by David Healey
“Not for anything that you’d want to know about.”
The driver laughed good-naturedly, then whisked them from the airport to the hotel. On the way, he explained that the hotel near the airport was popular with travelers from all over the world and was much larger and modern compared to the traditional hotels within the city itself, which were more like Gasthäuser—guesthouses. “I know you Americans like everything the bigger, the better,” he said.
In the lobby of the massive Hilton hotel, Cole was taken aback by the shiny glass doors, the gleaming trim, the expansive veined marble. He gave a low whistle.
“This sure ain’t the Apple Blossom Motel,” he said. “It’s kind of fancy.”
“We’re just like rock stars,” Danny said happily. “Or country music stars, at least.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
But things kept getting better. Cole was half-convinced that they must have been dropped at the wrong hotel, but sure enough, the clerk had a reservation for them, along with a voucher for meals.
“We even get our own rooms,” Danny said. “We don’t have to share.”
“It's something, all right,” Cole agreed, still amazed by the lavish surroundings. Not for the first time this day, he realized that he was a long way from the ramshackle cabin where he had grown up in Gashey’s Creek. Back then, he’d been lucky if he got some biscuits to go with his squirrel stew. He had slept on the bare wooden floor of the loft with his brothers and sisters, body heat alone keeping them warm on winter nights. When he had gotten older, there had been a mattress stuffed with corn husks. During the war, he mostly slept on the cold, hard ground and hadn’t minded.
After washing up, they’d come back down and had a massive breakfast in the hotel restaurant, with the waiter squeezing fresh oranges table-side for their juice.
Sated, they made their way back up to their separate rooms. Danny was excited to give the cable television a whirl to watch the German version of MTV. Cole was more interested in a nap before they had to meet Colonel Mulholland that afternoon.
He closed the door, took off his shoes, and tried to get settled on the enormous bed. However, he just couldn’t seem to relax. The soft mattress kept threatening to swallow him whole. So much luxury felt overwhelming. After a while, he gave up and pulled some of the blankets onto the floor. Just like old times. With the reassuring feel of the hard floor beneath him, Cole finally slept.
Cole awoke to the sound of somebody pounding on the door. Annoyed with himself, he realized that he had overslept. Traveling had taken a bigger toll than he had expected. Not as young as I used to be. He glanced at the Timex on his wrist. He was supposed to go down and meet Colonel Mulholland in just half an hour.
Through the peephole, he saw that it was Danny knocking. Cole unlocked the door.
“I can’t believe I had to wake you up,” his grandson said. The boy noticed the blankets and pillow on the floor. ”Pa Cole, did you fall out of bed?”
“Something like that,” Cole replied. “Just give me a minute. I’ll be ready. Don’t you worry about me.”
He slipped into the bathroom. A shower would have been nice to help him wake up, but he settled for putting on a fresh shirt and splashing some water on his face, trying to get rid of the groggy feeling. It felt like his head was packed full of wool. Well, that was jet lag for you. Back home, it was close to his bedtime. At the moment, his bones felt every one of his years.
He emerged from the spacious bathroom feeling only marginally refreshed. However, seeing Danny bubble over with enthusiasm was better than a cup of coffee.
“Here, you better take my extra key,” Cole said. “Just in case I don’t wake up next time.”
“Why wouldn’t you wake up?”
“Because I’m dead, that’s why.”
“That’s a terrible thing to say!” Danny replied, but he was grinning. He had gotten used to Pa Cole’s dark sense of humor over the years. “Do I have to give you my extra key?”
“What, are you worried I might walk in while you are entertaining some cute young Fräulein?”
Danny’s face turned the shade of a mountain sunset. “No, that’s not—”
“You hang onto your keys,” Cole said. “C’mon, let’s go down.”
Danny looked him up and down. “You look kind of nice, Pa Cole. You’re wearing your sports coat again.”
“I reckon it’s best to look nice when you’re going to meet a ghost from the past.”
They took the elevator to the lobby, not saying much. Like a kid, Danny kept wanting to press all the buttons, making stops at each floor. Cole told him he could ride the elevator on his own time. There was that fluttery feeling in his belly again, which Cole was quick to blame on the elevator ride.
In the lobby, Colonel Mulholland was already waiting. Cole had wondered if they would even recognize each other after all these years. Cole still saw himself as a young man, but knew that the mirror said otherwise. To his surprise, Mulholland hadn’t changed all that much. He was still tall and lean, except for a bit of a paunch that hinted at good living. He wore eyeglasses with a bluish tint. Mulholland’s back was straight as a ramrod. In fact, from his posture to his close-cropped haircut, Mulholland looked very much like what he was, which was a retired Army officer.
“Caje Cole, as I live and breathe,” his old officer said, grinning ear to ear. “I’ll be damned if it’s not my favorite hillbilly.”
“Colonel Mulholland,” Cole said, gripping the man’s hand.
Mulholland laughed. “I’m just Jim these days.” He turned his attention to Danny. “This must be your grandson that you said was coming with you.”
“Nice to meet you, sir,” Danny said politely.
They spent some time catching up. It turned out that there was a Mrs. Mulholland, who would not be accompanying them today.
“She has heard enough about the museum,” Mulholland said with a laugh. “Of course, she will be coming to the museum opening. It’s going to be quite a party.”
For Mulholland, there were children and grandchildren, too. They all lived back in the U.S.
It was funny what you remembered about someone, Cole thought. The Mulholland that he remembered had been a decent officer, both courageous and fair, even if he and Cole hadn’t always agreed on how to fight the war. As a very young man, he had led Cole’s squad across much of Europe.
The one time that he and Mulholland had really clashed had been over a French Resistance fighter named Jolie Molyneux. The young lieutenant had set his sights on Jolie, flirting with her in his polite manner and his high school French, seeming to think that she would naturally gravitate toward him as an officer who was superior to a mere enlisted man, but it had been Cole who caught her eye.
There never had been anything polite about Cole. A brief and fiery wartime romance resulted. That affair prompted some tension between the two men until Jolie had been wounded during Cole’s fight with the sniper known as Das Gespenst and she been forced out of the picture.
Of course, that had been a lifetime ago. Cole wondered if Mulholland had ever told his wife about his infatuation with a lusty French Resistance fighter. He sure as hell had never said a word to Norma Jean. A smart man didn’t reminisce about old girlfriends and flings in front of his wife. Cole liked his head just fine without it being flattened by an iron skillet.
Mulholland turned his attention back to Danny. “I’m glad you’re here representing the next generation, although I’m sure you are sick and tired of hearing your grandfather’s war stories.”
“He’s never said much of anything to me.”
For the first time, a troubled look crossed Mulholland’s face. Both he and Cole knew that there were some war stories better left untold. He forced a smile. “Well, over the next few days, we’ll see if we can share the ones that matter,” he said diplomatically. “If you’re all set, let’s head over to the museum. It’s not open to the public yet, but considering that you are one of our VIPs for
the grand opening, we can give you a preview.”
To Cole’s surprise, Mulholland was driving himself around Munich in a silver BMW. He explained that he had been stationed for so long in Germany that he had gotten a driver’s license, a car, and even an apartment where he lived except for trips back to the U.S. to visit relatives.
“At least we’re on the right side of the road over here,” Mulholland said. “Driving in England is a whole different story, believe me.”
“At least there aren’t any landmines this time around.”
Mulholland laughed. “You’ve got that right.”
Looking out the car window was a strange experience. Cole kept expecting to see bomb-damaged buildings and German POWs marching past with their hands in the air. However, the scars of war had long since healed. He could not think of a small city that looked more prosperous than Munich. By far, the broad streets and well-kept buildings put any grungy American city to shame.
At the wheel, Mulholland seemed to sense Cole’s bewilderment as the old soldier synced his memories with the modern Germany presenting itself beyond the windshield. “Now you see why some people joke that the Germans won the war, after all. Impressive, isn’t it? However, if you’re looking for monuments or historical markers, you’ll be disappointed,” he said. “The Germans have done all that they can to minimize recognition of the war.”
“Back home, there’s at least one monument to some war in every courthouse square and you don’t have to go far to find a historical marker on the side of the road. I think there’s one for every skirmish from the War Between the States. There might even be some markers for where the Yankees stole some chickens.”
“Yankees? The War Between the States? You must mean Union troops? The Civil War?” Mulholland laughed. “I know you Southerners have a different view. Didn’t we decide that we had relatives on opposite sides back then?”
“I reckon we did.”
“It’s funny, but Americans seem to tolerate Confederate monuments. There may come a time when they get pulled down. Who knows?”
“Wouldn’t be right,” Cole said. “It’s our history.”
“History has a way of getting swept under the rug,” Mulholland said. “Anyhow, here in Germany, that’s already been done. There’s almost nothing to recognize that most of the country became a battlefield. There aren’t any monuments, not even to the thousands, make that the hundreds of thousands of Germans, who perished during the Allied bombings.”
Cole looked around at the pristine buildings, but what he still saw in his mind’s eye were the ruins of war.
“The closest you’re going to get around here to a war memorial is Dachau,” Mulholland said.
Cole was familiar with Dachau, one of the original and most notorious Nazi concentration camps, which happened to be located in the suburbs of Munich. Looking at some of the older pedestrians they passed on the sidewalks, Cole realized that it was entirely possible that some of them had lived here when the concentration camp was in full operation.
Cole shook his head. “Dachau. It is hard to imagine the evil that people allowed to be done to one another.”
“Awful,” Mulholland agreed. “But there’s a small museum that recognizes what took place there. The barracks and other buildings where the prisoners languished are being allowed to fall into slow disrepair because no one was interested in preserving that horrible and troubled past.”
“They ought to have bulldozed that place.”
“Maybe. The one museum that Munich is known for is the massive Deutsche museum. There are some exhibits to the aircraft industry that include the development of Messerschmitt fighters, but aside from that, you won’t find much military history. It’s mostly about transportation and science.”
From the back seat, Danny spoke up. The two men had almost forgotten he was there. “Transportation and science? Ugh. Sounds like a place for school field trips.”
“You’re probably right. That reminds me. I brought you something.” Keeping one hand on the wheel, he reached into the glovebox and took out a chunk of concrete about the size of a baseball, then handed it back to Danny.
“A piece of concrete,” Cole said. “That’s right generous of you.”
Mulholland laughed. “It’s not just any chunk of concrete. It’s a piece of the Berlin Wall. That’s the real deal. I picked it up myself.”
“Wow!” Danny said. “I’ve seen the Berlin Wall all over the news.”
“This is a truly eventful time in Germany,” Mulholland said. He was referring, of course, to the fall of the Berlin Wall that had divided free Berlin from East Berlin. “Needless to say, the German people are elated to finally be reconnected with old friends and family that they had not been able to communicate with for more than forty years.”
They had all seen the news reports. The economy of East Germany was far behind that of the West, which had flourished under the capitalist system enabled by the Allied victory. The beautiful city around them was evidence of that success.
Mixed with the elation that the wall had finally come down was the growing concern that the former Communist territory might be a drag on the economy. These Germans would need jobs and decent educations. Germany had a lot of work to do ahead of it in finally reuniting the country. In some ways, the reunification was the closing chapter of the war era. Although Germany could fit neatly inside the state of Texas with room left over, it was geographically large for Europe. It was no small task to combine the two sides into a single modern nation of nearly eighty million people—equivalent to one-third of the current U.S. population. Back during WWII, Germany’s population had been closer to one-half the size of the United States, which had grown exponentially.
“All of the excitement about the Berlin Wall has overshadowed the museum opening somewhat, but I won’t complain. There’s such a thing as too much attention. Our museum board has faced some controversy about opening a museum. Considering the way that Germany has downplayed the war, that’s not surprising. But we need to tell the story of the war before those of us who remember it are all gone.”
In the backseat, Danny hefted the chunk from the Berlin Wall. “This is really cool. Thank you.”
“If you think that was cool, you haven’t seen anything yet.”
Mulholland drove past a soaring ultra-modern building built of stone and huge sheets of glass. With the sunlight glinting off it, the building looked like the tip of an iceberg exploding from the ground. This building made it clear that it had something to say.
The BMW pulled into a long entrance road, freshly blacktopped, that led to a parking area.
“Whoa,” Danny said. “Is this the place?”
“Welcome to the World War II Museum of Europe. Or to put it another way, Das Museum des Zweiten Weltkriegs in Europa.”
As Mulholland parked the BMW and they got out of the car, Cole said, “Quite a place.”
“Ha, you haven’t even seen the exhibit hall yet,” Mulholland said. “You’re one of the stars of the show.”
Cole wasn’t sure that he liked the sound of that. Just a few minutes before, Mulholland had mentioned that there was such a thing as too much attention. Cole agreed.
He stood for a moment, taking in the monumental grandeur of the building, and then slowly followed Mulholland and Danny toward the entrance. He didn’t know what to expect, but he suddenly dreaded the memories that this museum was dragging up.
Chapter Five
The museum grand opening was to be held in two days, which left them time to explore the city. Cole wasn’t one to sit in his hotel room. If he and Danny had come all this way, they were going to get out and see something. Plus, he wouldn’t mind tracking down some more Bratwurst, which he had sampled at dinner. Grilled, garlicky, and served with Sauerkraut … the stuff was that damn good. He didn’t remember eating any Bratwurst during the war, most likely because there hadn’t been much of anything to eat in Germany back then.
“You know, I’ve got an
idea,” Cole announced the next morning over breakfast, once the waiter had finished squeezing their fresh orange juice again. He pulled out the cocktail napkin on which the old German soldier he had met on the plane had written his telephone number. To his surprise, he had found himself thinking about their conversation. Several things that Hans said had resonated with him and left a positive impression. “I think I would like to invite Hans to the grand opening. I think he’d appreciate it.”
“Sure.”
“I’ll need your help to call him. I don’t know how to work these damn German phones.”
“We don’t even need to use the phone,” Danny said. “We’ll just ask the hotel concierge to call him for us.”
“The what?”
“You’ll see.”
Cole shook his head. Danny was learning fast. Cole felt like he was getting left in the dust.
They finished their breakfast, eggs and fried potatoes with ham, with lots of hot German coffee, then headed over to the concierge, who obliged by placing the call and handing the phone to Cole. He could handle this part. Not only did Hans agree to attend the museum dedication as Cole’s guest, but he also invited Cole and Danny to meet him in the city later that day.
That afternoon, they met Hans at a coffee shop not far from the Marienplatz, a wide cobblestoned square in the heart of Munich. Expensive shops and restaurants lined the surrounding streets. The city itself dated far into ancient times and was known as the capital of Bavaria. Loosely interpreted, München as it was known in German, translated to “The Monk’s Place” in reference to the ancient monasteries around which the city had grown.
“There you are!” Hans said as they came through the door. He shook Cole’s hand vigorously, smiling. The old man’s grip was strong. “Forgive me, but I already feel as if we are old friends.”
“Us old-timers need to stick together,” Cole said.
Hans turned to Danny and shook his hand enthusiastically as well. “It is good to see you helping your grandfather. Who knows, you may even learn something from him?” The old German turned to indicate a pretty teenage girl at his elbow. Cole had to admit that he hadn’t paid attention to the girl when he had first entered the shop. However, he could see that Danny’s eyes were riveted on her. “Allow me to introduce my niece, Angela. My grand-niece, actually. Like Danny here, she is keeping an old man out of trouble.”
