The track was as it had ever been, and as a bonus she could see in the distance a horse-drawn vehicle approaching her. How lovely! she thought. And what timing! That’s what I like to see.
As it drew closer, she stood aside to admire the bay cob pulling its heavy oak wagon of occupants and their belongings. At first, she assumed they were gypsy travellers, but the driver – a rather severe looking man – was dressed in Bavarian traditional costume, together with his wife and two children, with what appeared to be all their worldly goods. She smiled at them, but their reaction was one of disdain as the driver cracked the whip above the horse’s flanks, causing Hanne to jump and the cob to quicken its pace.
Maybe they are on their way to a traditional fair. Those things can be stressful for those taking part.
Not many minutes later, also approaching along the same track, were two boys pushing a handcart loaded with a large sack of grain. Again, she stood aside for them to pass and again they did not acknowledge her. They weren’t particularly old – probably both under ten years – and were dressed in the manner of children of the ’30s.
She was now sure that a traditional folk fair must be gathering or be underway somewhere in the district and that the boys were probably members of the same family that had passed with the horse and wagon. She called out, ‘Grüss Gott!’ but neither boy responded nor looked back at her.
It didn’t matter that there was no response. People have their reasons, and it was such a beautiful morning for a walk. She was convinced this was the right thing to do before heading for home. Well worth getting up early and putting the house in order first thing. If only Sandy could be here with her.
As the temperature began to soar she stopped to catch her breath. Above her, two buzzards squealed as they gained altitude on the warm thermals of a cloudless sky.
Ahead, yet another element of what was becoming a rather bizarre and fragmented carnival came into view and this time kicking up dust. Three German soldiers kitted out in combat uniform and carrying rifles. This unnerved her for a moment as she assumed that they were soldiers on exercise for some reason.
For a third time, she stood aside to let them pass, and it was then that it was clear to her that the men were wearing WW2 uniforms; they weren’t in modern uniform at all. Again, they didn’t acknowledge her gesture; it was as if she wasn’t there.
Re-enactment? Surely such things were frowned upon here.
It occurred to her that these rather surreal travellers were “ghosts” of a kind and perhaps ghosts of her making. If so, then what was around the corner? She didn’t have long to wait. Now feeling a bit more apprehensive as to what she was experiencing, she could feel something drawing her forward, that she must continue her walk. This was most unlike her, but the pull to carry on was overwhelming.
She hadn’t gone many more paces when again she saw ahead of her an even larger column of spectres the like of which she struggled to believe, yet there they were solid in form and proceeding directly toward her.
If these are apparitions of an age past to which I am the ghost, then why not stand in their path?
Coming directly at her a US military jeep towing a large field gun, and behind that a Sherman tank followed by assorted infantrymen all in step. She stood her ground until such time as the apparition appeared so real in sight and sound that it would run her down, and so like a rabbit she leapt at the very last second to avoid being run over. Not one face turned to look at her and not one voice was raised in annoyance.
The dust kicked up covers her from head to foot and chokes her; but rather than curse, she is amused and even thrilled by the experience.
If I’m being shown something, then this really is a show and a half!
Looking back along the track from whence she’d come, to see if she can see the progress of the troops, or the boys or the wagon, but there’s no sign of anything or anyone.
Too liberal with the schnapps last night. Oh, if only Heike could have been with me for this!
In any other circumstance, she would run fleeing from the scene, fearing for her sanity; but this morning, the sheer pleasure of witnessing so many phantoms thrills her like a fairground ride.
What next?
As if on cue, two men approach in the distance, walking a large dog. It is only as they get closer that she sees them clearly in uniform. Yet again, she stands aside. This is the best of all those who have passed her: it is the friendly guard dressed as she remembered so well from that summer’s day in 1963, his sleeves casually rolled up, his field cap tilted in jaunty style, and prancing at his side, head held high, the chocolate-loving Alsatian. Yes, her memory was spot on! He was indeed a ringer for Clint Walker.
He could have been a movie star who might have achieved great things had the world he’d known been different. Neither man sees her; the dog doesn’t see her. They walk on into the far distance watched by an incredulous English woman in late middle age.
Ten minutes on, breathless, she reaches her goal.
The deer lookout is still in place; the ladder and platform are just as they were all those years ago, though she suspects that the timber has been replaced as least twice since that summer of ’63. She puts her foot on the first rung and worries that now it is too steep and that she doesn’t want to find herself stuck and unable to get down like some woosy pussy up a tree.
I’m not so old that I can’t do this.
She convinces her rational fears that it really isn’t difficult, and before she knows it she reaches the platform and makes herself comfortable.
As then, she must be quiet. The deer must still be around somewhere. She settles her breathing as best she can.
Below, a child’s enquiring voice startles her. ‘Hello! What are you doing?’ she asks.
‘I’m looking for deer,’ Hanne replies.
‘There are not as many as there used to be,’ says the girl. ‘Can I come up and join you?’
Hanne shuffles across the platform and beckons the girl to join her. Together they sit side by side looking out towards the far horizon.
‘If we’re very quiet, we might see a doe and her fawn,’ the girl tells her.
‘Yes, if we’re very quiet.’
***
The Reunion Page 39
