Coming Home

The second day at the military archives at Freiburg yielded some information about the BR21 Wurfgranate (really, a screaming Mimi “rocket” rigged under a German fighter plane’s wings), and some analysis from the testing airfield Rechlin.

Running out of time, I was soon on my way northwards to interview a Knight’s Cross holder who had fought on the Russian front and managed to make it to the Americans at the end of the war, an incredible story told with humor and self-effacement.  Then, with hardly a pause, I was on to the widow of a JG2 fighter pilot.  She is 85 but a whirlwind of energy who doesn’t shy away from poking fun at herself or anyone else. She is a tremendously sweet, funny, helpful person who can barely sit down for a meal. I fell in love with her instantly.

She had piles of books, binders, photo albums and files waiting for me. I started scanning as fast as I could and she stood ready to make copies on her printer. We worked through as much as we could before she laid out another feast for dinner.

After dinner I went through three binders of letters from all over the world her late husband had answered until his death in 2004. We found a gentleman who had asked about the BR21 ten years ago, copied his letter, and pulled out lots more before we finished what we could around 10 pm.  Like the loving grandmother she is, she put me up under the eaves of her home where I laid down on a soft bed buried by layers of down comforters, closed my eyes and slept straight through until 7 am.

After thanking her profusely over breakfast, I was on my way again through the beautiful Sauerland region to another veteran who had defused mines as part of the Falke 29th Panzergrenadier Division in Russia and Italy. Scanning his unpublished combat photos from the front like a madwoman, I had to take my leave after only a few hours and reach the house of a Hermann Goering Division soldier who had also fought on the eastern front as it rapidly receded ever deeper into German territory.

It’s really terribly emotionally wrenching to only have a few hours when I really could have spent days with each one of these very fascinating and hospitable people. Knowing there are only a few years left until they are all gone and their stories and the connection to the past they provide vaporizes hurts.  Considering I’m not independently wealthy and have to get back to work soon, though, even the most wonderful things have to come to an end.

Soon I’ll be on a plane bound for home and a world filled with my American veteran friends. Vive la California!

From the Ruhr with love.