Our Father's Generation

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Our Father's Generation Page 17

by F. M. Worden


  The next morning, I said goodbye to Inga and Olga. I told Inga I could fall for her if we stayed together. She told me she had a heart ache parting from me. We both shed a tear when I left with Erik.

  We had no trouble on the road. He dropped me off several miles out of town. Well after dark, I made my way to Doctor Wolfe’s house. I slipped into the back yard. Looking thru the kitchen window, I saw Bette working there. I gently tapped on the window. She saw me, turned the lights off, then hurried to let me in.

  “Frank,” she said, “I’m so glad to see you. How did you manage to get here?”

  I quickly told her my story. In the dark, we went upstairs. “You must not be seen here. The Doctor will see you safely out of Germany.”

  Was I glad to hear her say that? When Dr. Wolfe came home, he told me my policeman friend would help get me out of Germany. He said he had talked with him several times about coming to get me free of the army. Now I knew I would be okay. Gosh these people, my friends, were good to me. I was to hide at Doctor Wolfe’s house until arrangements could be made for my leaving Germany. I stayed in the attic room for over a month. Doctor Wolfe or Bette would bring food and drink once a day mostly in the evening hours.

  On one evening visit, Doctor Wolfe wanted to talk. “Frank, there’s bad news. Germany has invaded Poland. War has started. The United Kingman, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa and France all have declared war on Germany. I and your friend the Policeman have made preparations to get you out of Germany. Your policeman friend has Nazi papers making you a messenger for the Fuhrer; no one will dare try to stop you. Here is a letter he gave me for you from his daughter Rose. A military truck will come for you and your bike early in the morning. You will be taken to the Salzburg road, go to Budapest and see the American Ambassador. I’m sure he can see that you will get safely home. Bette and I are leaving for a medical conference in Switzerland, we won’t be back. Bette’s mother has some Jewish blood; it will be trouble for all my family when the Nazis find out. Go with God, Frank, and all our blessings.”

  Doctor Wolfe gave me the papers and the letter from Rose. How could I ever thank these people, my friends? Frau Dreesen had sent me an envelope of money, God bless her. Doctor Wolfe left, I was on my own.

  Early the next morning, the truck arrived. Two men helped load my bike and I was on my way to the Salzburg road. I was dropped off just before it got daylight. One of the men gave me a map and said, “Good luck.” The truck turned back and drove away.

  I thought of Jennifer and the Golden family. Surely God had helped them into safety. How sad it is people have to leave their homes. I hope it will never happen in America.

  Little did I know the mess Germany had coming. I would bet if the people in Germany could see the future, things would be different. A terrible world they have made for themselves.

  Chapter 11

  The Long Road Home

  Watching the truck disappear back toward Munich, I had never felt so alone. I felt tired. I found a side road, took it for a ways, found a safe place and took a short nap. After my nap, I looked my bike over and discovered I had new tires all around. “Thank you, Doctor Wolfe.” What a nice person he was. I also looked behind the seat in the sidecar and found to my surprise four cans of meat, four cans of fruit, a leather jacket, a blanket, a light green tarp, a tin box with a knife, a small compass and some matches. Doctor Wolfe thought of everything.

  I passed the checkpoint going into Austria with no trouble. I passed through Vienna late the next day, refueled, drove to the border and crossed into Hungary.

  I found a spot just off the main road to take a rest. I opened the letter from Rose. She wrote that she was happy at the convent and had applied to go to the Vatican to study nursing. She finished with, “I pray for you each night at Vespers.” Her letter made me sad as I missed her a lot.

  The next day, I continued on my way to Budapest. It was late in the day before I found the American Embassy. The place was a hubbub of activity. A staff member told me they were pulling out for home. There was no room for me to go with them. He said, “You’ll have to find your own way home; maybe you can get help in Rome at our Embassy. Goodbye and good luck.”

  How’s that for help from your country? The only thing I could do was start for Rome…a thousand miles or more away. I found the road to Yugoslavia that went west. I looked for and found a spot to spend the night. The next day, I saw I was traveling along a large body of water and railway tracks. On my map it was Lake Balaton. Late that day, I crossed the tracks, parked in some bushes, spread the blanket, laid down and went to sleep.

  The next morning, being close to the water, I decided to take a bath or really a swim. After my swim, I felt clean again. I had just finished dressing when I heard a large splash, a big fish or someone else taking a swim I thought. I crept along through the bushes. To my surprise, I saw a person was having a swim. I watched for awhile and the person swam to the bank and stood up to walk out. HOLY COW! It was a bare-naked beautiful woman. I watched her get dressed. She put on men’s pants, a shirt and an old torn dress coat. She put her long blonde hair up under a man’s cap. She started to cross the tracks toward the road.

  I yelled at her, “Who are you?” For a minute I thought she was going to run.

  She called back, “Who are you?”

  “I’m an American; on my way home.” I hope, I said under my breath. At my call, she ran straight at me and into my arms. I thought for a minute she would knock me down, instead she ran into my arms and put her arms around me.

  She yelled at me, “I’m hungry, I’m hungry. Do you have food? Did my guardian send you?”

  “No one sent me and I have some food, please follow me.”

  I lead her to my bike and handed her an open can of meat. She ate with her fingers as fast as she could. I stopped her as I was afraid she would get sick from eating so fast.

  Looking her over, she appeared to be a tramp. I started asking questions. “Who are you? Why are you in Hungary dressed like a tramp? Where do you come from? Are you really an American?” She sat down on the blanket and started to cry.

  I tried to console her by saying, “You’re ok now, you’re with me. Please answer my questions.” Gosh, this was a pretty girl, big round blue eyes, dimpled cheeks and kissable full red lips. I saw her body as she came out of the water. She was a real beauty.

  Through here tears she told me her story. “My name is Laura Brownell; my parents were killed in auto accident near our home in Dallas, Texas. My Father was an oil man. He had a partner that my Father had willed to be my Guardian. He took a job in the oil fields in Rumania and made me come with him. A week ago, I told him it was my 18th birthday. He came to my room that night and said I would have to sleep with him to pay back his kindness and money he spent on me. I was shocked. I told him I was in my period. The next day when he went to work, I took what money I could find in his room, took these clothes. I stole these shoes from another room. I have hitched rides and walked to be here. My feet are so sore I can hardly stand it.”

  “You poor kid, that guy is a dirty rat, let me see your feet.” She had big blisters on both heels. “We’ll get something for them in the next town.”

  We pushed the bike over the tracks; I gave her goggles from a side pocket. I fired it up and turned west on the road. We could not talk over the noise of the engine. I stopped early and found a spot to stay the night, just a few kilometers from the Yugoslavia border.

  I couldn’t do much for her blisters. I put some grease from the bike on them. She said that made them feel a little better. We finished another can of meat and tried to sleep.

  The next day back on the road, we got in line with cars, trucks and busses crossing the border. We were waved right on through. I guess the guards were lazy or didn’t care.

  We arrived in the town of Zagreb, found a small hotel and rented a room. I went next door to a café, purchased a basket of food, and took it to our room. We had our first good meal. We both f
ell into bed and went to sleep. In the morning, we found a shop and bought boys clothing for Laura. We went looking for a doctor and found a female doctor. She lanced the blisters and put some kind of salve on Laura’s heels.

  With Laura’s feet in stockings, we went back on the road going west. I pushed the bike hard all day. As evening set in, we came to a small town called Rijeka where the road turned south. Without any trouble, we found a café in a hotel with rooms and a bar. The owner was a Frenchman, a very friendly and talkative guy.

  His business was far from booming. He wanted to talk with us; he introduced his wife, a dark good looking woman about thirty. He told us she was an Albanian he had met and married four years ago. She gave us a big smile and spoke perfect English. I could see his wife was taken with Laura. We ordered a meal and the two of them sat down and talked with us. I asked about the news of the world, as we had been out of touch awhile. He told us that Germany was occupying France. France had surrendered. England was taking their troops by the Channel from a place called Dunkirk. He was really upset over the situation.

  He said he had gotten into trouble in France and had to skip out of the country. “I’m still a Frenchman.” The tears rolled down his cheeks. He told us that Italy had joined Germany as an ally.

  “What bad luck! We’re on our way to Italy and the American Embassy in Rome.”

  The Frenchman told us his name was Jon. He asked us to stay awhile to see how things would go in Italy. He said he could find jobs we could do for our keep. Laura and I decided to try it for a few days. Heck, we chopped wood and stacked it for him. I even repaired a water line that had broken. Jon found jobs we could do all the time.

  Laura and I stayed in the same room; we even slept in the same bed. I never tried anything, she was such a sweet girl. She told me she was a virgin and she was saving herself for her husband to be. It was tough but that was the way I left it. Some nights, the way she dressed and smelled, I want-a tell ya, it was a tough deal for me having her so close. She looked like an angel when she slept.

  The Frenchman’s wife, we called her Sis, took Laura shopping several times and purchased clothing for her. One time she purchased a beautiful Yugoslav dress and scarf. In it, Laura looked like a native. I became more attached to this girl with each passing day. Having her sleep next to me every night added to my frustration. I had fallen in love with beautiful Laura.

  Two months passed so quickly I had hardly noticed the time passing. Laura had something to do with that. She and I were doing odd jobs out back. I stopped, turned to her and asked, “Laura, honey, will you marry me?”

  She turned her head away, walked a few steps away. I thought, “Damn, I’ve spoiled my chances for her.”

  She turned to face me and said LOUD AND CLEAR, “Let’s get married today.” She rushed into my waiting arms: I planted a passionate kiss on her beautiful full red lips.

  She said loudly, “I’ve been waiting for you to ask. I love you, Frank.”

  We hurried in to tell Jon and Sis we wanted to get married. He told us to get ready; he would go get a Priest within an hour. A quick bath, a change of clothing, with Laura in her new dress, we were ready.

  Sure enough, Jon returned with a Priest and a big group of people. To tell the truth, neither Laura nor I understood a word the Priest said. Anyway, there were papers to sign and we were legally married.

  After the ceremony, a great time was had by all. A band started playing and dancing broke out, singing, too. I’ll tell one thing, the Slavs are kissing people as we both got kissed many times by old and young alike. That night, I had the most enjoyable time I ever had. To love someone as I do Laura is the best you can have in this life.

  The next day, Jon told us he thought we could continue on to Rome. “The Italian Army is having a bad time in North Africa. I’m sure no one will bother you.”

  Early the next morning, we thanked Jon and Sis for their kindness and loaded the sidecar. We took the coast road south along the Adriatic Sea. Our destination was the town of Dubrovnik where we could get a ferry to cross to the Italian town of Bari. It was on the east coast of Italy.

  The weather was clear and cool making traveling by bike pleasant. As we rode, we traveled south and the country was beautiful. It was hilly, wooded, with ocean views. Once in awhile, when we could get close to the water in a secluded spot, we took a swim. Laura looked so cute in my boxer shorts with no top. I told her that there would be none of that topless stuff when we got home. She laughed and laughed, saying, “What’s the matter, Frank, afraid the boys will look?”

  In one small village, we stopped for an overnight stay in a hotel where we were invited to join the festivities of a wedding party. Laura put on her native dress and we danced and had a wonderful time. The food was great, the people gracious and friendly. It was a fun time.

  Traveling on, we reached Dubrovnik late in the afternoon. The ferry was still in Italy. We had a three day wait. Again, the people were friendly and kind to us. The trip by ferry made us pretend we were on a cruise for our honeymoon. Another most enjoyable time. We arrived at Bari, Italy, early morning and got directions to Naples. We had to travel all the way across the Italian boot. The scenery was beautiful; Italy is truly a beautiful country. The bike ran like a top, it was burning a little oil, no problem though. My speaking Spanish learned from the Mexican cowboys at home helped with conversing with the natives. The two languages have many similar words.

  We took a lazy time going from Naples to Rome. In Rome, we found the American Embassy. We had to do some tall talking to get the Marine Guards to let us in. Once inside and meeting the Ambassador, we had a really friendly welcome.

  I sent my folks a cable to let them know where I was and that I was okay. I got back a message of that said they were relieved to know of my whereabouts. My Dad even sent money. I received a cable from the folks telling me my brother Tom was in England with the RAF. The bad news was we could not get transportation to the States right then. We would have to stay in Rome a while. The Ambassador put Laura and me to work, she could type and I became a chauffeur. I got to find my way around Rome pretty well.

  On one of our days off, we borrowed the car and took a ride to the Vatican on a chance Rose was there. A guard we spoke with was nice enough to summon a Sister Superior. I asked the older Nun if there was a Student Nurse, a Sister Rose living there.

  “Are you a relative?” she asked.

  “Yes, may we see her now?” I flat told a lie.

  The older Nun left without saying a word. We waited. In a few minutes, a Nun in a white habit appeared at the top of the steps of this building. As she came down the steps and toward us, I knew it was Rose. I felt like crying she was so beautiful. I had told Laura about Rose. I embraced Rose and told her how beautiful she was.

  Laura told her, “You are a beautiful person, I’m glad you became a Nun.”

  “I love being a Nun. If I hadn’t, I would be where you are now.”

  Laura replied, “We both love the same man.”

  Rose agreed and we three hugged. I kissed Rose for the last time. She turned, walked back up the steps and into the life she had chosen.

  We drove back to the Embassy in silence. Rose was never mentioned again.

  It was two months before we could get air service to Madrid, Spain; railway passage to Lisbon, Portugal; air service to Cuba, and airline service to my home in the Southwest.

  We had a marvelous homecoming with my family. Uncle Bob was great about my not getting a degree in Europe; he sure spent a great amount of money on me. All the folks fell in love with my Laura. I went back to architecture studies at a local university and worked for Uncle Bob again until December 7th. I spent four years in the Marine Corps and went island hopping from Guadalcanal to Okinawa. Didn’t get a scratch; I received a battlefield commission on Saipan.

  Back home, I finished my degree on the GI Bill and went to work once again for Uncle Bob. Sometime later, my Aunt Helen and Uncle Bob willed the business to me.
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  Laura and I have one daughter, two sons. I became an architect of some renown, designing building and homes for developers.

  Someday I hope to write about my time in the Marine Corps. At present, the men I served with and the memory of them and their faces are much too vivid.

  Book 3

  Brother Albert, The Infantryman

  Chapter 1

  Albert Tells His Story

  Albert’s story is dedicated to the men of the 90th Infantry Division {both living and dead} and to all Infantrymen who served this nation in war and peace. {GOD BLESS THEM ALL} Any reference to real people or places is strictly coincidental.

  Somewhere on the French Coast, Normandy Beach, the day after D-Day, June 7, 1944 - 6 a.m.

  I could feel the LST hit ground. Standing on the port side of the boat, I was more than ready to get the heck off this tub. We had been cooped up on her for four days waiting orders to move out. We crossed the English Channel in the night. The sling on my M1 was cutting into my sore shoulder. We had been waiting for orders to disembark for over an hour. My combat pack felt too damn heavy. We had just been issued a bandolier of ammo for our M1's, it weighed a ton. All in all, I felt sick all over. The trip over from England was rough to say the least. I was sick to my stomach and had a busting headache, so did everyone else. Some of the guys were puking, this tub smelled pretty damn bad.

  Looking down at the water below on the way in, I could see our infantrymen who had been killed on the first landing, floating face down in the surf. The sight made me even more sick. I said a silent prayer for the dead men, if there’s a heaven surely they’re there.

 

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