Claudine's Story: Memories of Germany

Above photo: Hohenschwangau Castle, one of the many places Claudine and her husband visited for their "honeymoon"

 

Living in Germany

 

I had only been married to my soldier husband for a year when he told me he was being stationed in Germany — and that I would follow. I needed to get a passport and wait for my travel orders, and I was so excited. I was finally going to live in a place I had only read about in books. Germany... a land of mountains, castles, music, literature, history, and the place that gave us Christmas trees. I could go on and on.

I boarded that big old plane and flew into Frankfurt. My husband was waiting behind a gate, but I had to go through customs first. The customs officer was very kind. He asked if I had anything to declare. I said no. Then he looked at my passport and asked, "What country are you from?" I shyly told him, "I'm from Texas." He and the other officers got a big laugh out of that and said, "Okay, little lady from Texas, go on through and welcome to Germany.”

You have to understand — I was from Ennis, a small town near Dallas, and the farthest I had ever traveled was El Paso. The only "foreign country" I had ever visited was Juarez, Mexico, just across the border. So this was a whole new world for me.

It was early November when I arrived, and to a born-and-raised Texan, it was cold. I was used to 100-degree days and warm nights. In Texas, November meant light sweaters. In Germany, I needed a heavy coat and real winter boots — not cowboy boots!

I loved seeing the Autobahn for the first time, watching the countryside pass by, stopping for something to eat, and wishing I could speak German. Later I learned that most Germans spoke English better than many Americans, and they were so kind about it.

We arrived at our apartment — we had to live off base while waiting for quarters on post. The lady we rented from had prepared a meal for us. I met her, her son, and some neighbors. They treated us like royalty and made us feel welcome.

Everyday life took some getting used to. I had to learn how to dress for cold weather and snow, and I had to learn the customs. Our landlady helped me so much. I didn't want to be like some Americans stationed there — always griping, acting arrogant, and complaining about Germany and the German people. I wanted to learn. I wanted to be a grateful guest.

The Cold War was going strong, and Germany was still divided into East and West. My husband was constantly going on "field maneuvers," which were really war-game practices. I was alone a lot, but I made friends. I learned that you don't just walk up to a German and start talking. You slowly earn their trust. Once you do, they open up, and they want to learn about your country. They were fascinated that I was from Texas. They asked many questions, and I shared what I could — without arrogance. In return, they shared their culture and history with me.

Our first daughter was born at the Frankfurt 97th General Hospital. By then we had our base housing, and I had many friends to help. Our German friends visited when we brought her home. They brought gifts and well-wishes. One even said we must have some German blood because our baby had blond hair and bright blue eyes — really, she was born with that white-blond hair.

Then Viet Nam began heating up. When our baby was five months old, my husband got orders to go. It was sad and scary, but the wives helped each other. We had only two weeks to pack up, return to the States, and prepare for him to leave for war.

By the grace of God, he came home safely. And yes, back to Germany we went for his next assignment. This time it was Grafenwöhr, Germany — the big Army training center. He wouldn't be leaving for field maneuvers anymore. While he was in Viet Nam, I had trained to become a nurse, and in Grafenwöhr I worked at the base dispensary.

The two periods of living in Germany were very different. The first time, he was gone constantly. The second time, he was home, he had a higher rank (which meant more money), I had a job, and we had more time to sightsee, eat out, and truly enjoy Germany.

 

German Friends and Culture

 

Because I worked on base, I met many Germans who worked there as well, and I got to know quite a few of them. We often shared meals and conversations. Once they realized I was genuinely interested in learning, they opened up to me. I was happy to share things about my state, my culture, and my country, and I felt as if we had always been friends.

I welcomed them into our home, and they welcomed us into theirs. They were pleased that I wanted to learn about their culture, their daily lives, and what they had endured during WW II. Many of them had lived through it. I had only read what was in American history books, and I wasn't born until after the war. I tried very hard not to be an arrogant American, but a good ally and a respectful guest.

Some of the memories they shared with me about living through the war were hard to imagine. Americans cannot begin to understand what it would be like to endure bombings — hearing the sirens, hearing the bombs fall, not knowing where they would land or what they would destroy. They told me about electricity being cut off, food shortages, and having no money because there was nothing left to buy. They told me about shivering from the cold, hiding under whatever they could find, and living without hope that the horrors would ever end.

They described what it was like to walk outside and see everything they had ever known destroyed. As an American, I cannot begin to imagine any of that. These are the stories that have stayed with me all these many years. I shall never forget them. I am grateful they trusted me enough to share such painful memories.

I never blamed the German people for starting the war. I always felt that ordinary people everywhere were simply living in the wrong place at the wrong time.

What I miss most about German culture and daily life is the orderliness, the purpose behind everything. I miss going to the little shops I loved, asking questions, and getting good answers. I miss the people who were willing to share their stories, their culture, their history, their recipes, and their cooking. I miss becoming friends. That is what I miss most of all.

 

Travels and Discoveries

 

Grafenwöhr was near Nürnberg, and there were so many places to see there — not just the WW II sites, but the deeply historical ones as well. We visited the Kongresshalle, the Zeppelinfeld, and the Grosse Strasse. We saw where the Nürnberg Trials were held. We visited these places in the late 1960s, so they weren't sanitized — they were virtually as they were when the war ended.

Our German friend who went with us told us all about each place. He gave his side of the “why” and “where” of everything. It was fascinating — hearing history from someone who had lived through those years.

One of our older German friends, who had been young at the time, knew I wasn't there to judge. I was there to listen and learn. I could visualize the speeches, the rallies, the thousands of people shouting. He told me what life was like when he was young, and one story has stayed with me forever.

He said that during the Great Depression, he and his mother went to buy bread. They stood in line for a long time waiting to get inside the bakery. Every so often, someone would come out and change the price on the sign. When it was finally their turn, the price had gone up again, and his mother said, "We have to go. I don't have enough money to buy us bread." Hearing that broke my heart. I had heard all my life from my own parents how bad the Depression was, but hearing it from him — a child who went without bread — was incomprehensible. All I could do was cry for him.

Then he told me that when "that madman," as he called him, came along promising to open factories, give men work, and put food on tables, people believed him. And when they realized the truth, it was too late. They didn't protest. They kept silent out of fear. This is what a German who lived through that time told me. I didn't judge. I listened and learned.

I saw the old part of Nürnberg with its stone walls. I walked its historical streets. I visited places where history was made — not just 20th-century history, but centuries of it. The German National Museum. So much history, so much to see. Never enough time.

My husband and I saved our money so we could take a long vacation. We called it our "honeymoon," because we hadn't had the money for one when we married. This honeymoon was one that people only dream about — and I got to live it.

One of the German ladies I worked with mentioned she was taking the bus to visit her daughter in Munich. I told her we were leaving for our vacation at the same time and would be going through Munich. We offered her a ride, and she accepted. She told us places to visit, but since we wouldn't be there long, she told us about Merrell Barracks (US Army). She said it had been a German barracks and that we could still see the pockmarks from WW II on the entrance. We went — and there they were. A piece of modern history.

From Munich, we went to Berchtesgaden in the Bavarian Alps. We stayed at the General Walker Hotel, which had once been used by high German officials. It was beautiful. The mountains and scenery were breathtaking. From there we took a trip up to the Kehlsteinhaus — the Eagle's Nest perched high above Obersalzberg. Yes, it was built for Hitler, but the view was incredible.

We visited towns and places our German friends recommended. We couldn't see them all, but we saw what we could. We visited the beautiful Neuschwanstein Castle built by King Ludwig II — a fairy tale come to life. We took a horse and buggy ride up to it, partly because it was fun and partly because we were too lazy to walk. Our friends told us that was the way to do it. We visited Hohenschwangau Castle and Linderhof Palace — all marvelous. The guides were wonderful and seemed pleased that we loved hearing the history.

Our last stop before Austria was the Zugspitze, Germany's highest mountain. We took the cable car to the top, taking in every view. The day was clear, and from the summit we could see four countries — Germany, Austria, Italy, and Switzerland. We had lunch in a restaurant up there, and our friends had told us to be sure to order the Bohnensuppe (bean soup). Oh, that soup — made with white beans, sausage, onions, potatoes, carrots, and celery. The seasoning was perfect. It tasted heavenly. And of course, it was served with ample German bread.

We entered Austria, and our first stop was Salzburg. We saw beautiful churches. We visited the Salzburg Catacombs, where early Christians worshipped in secret, fearing execution. We saw Salzburg's oldest Christian cemetery. So much history. We visited St. Peter's Abbey. We saw Mozart's birthplace, his piano, and the places where he composed his music. So many things. So much history.

From Salzburg we drove to Innsbruck — also beautiful, also full of history. We visited well-known places, saw cathedrals, walked historical streets, and enjoyed everything — the people, the food, the atmosphere.

As for lesser-known places our German friends suggested — even those were memorable. I can’t name just one. I wish we had had more time to see everything, but again, not enough time. Not nearly enough.

Every place we visited, everything we saw, was memorable. I will never forget. They are my precious memories — ones I can look back on and relive.

 

Food and Everyday Memories

 

I don't remember the names of the bakeries or markets — they were just off the base in Grafenwöhr — but I remember everything about them.

My first stop was always the meat market. I bought a selection of their sandwich meats, their wonderful Fleischsalat, sausages, and fresh meats. And always some of that good butter. Then I went to the little sweet shop where everything was made fresh. They had so many goodies, and they always gave me samples. Their hot chocolate was to die for — served with a generous dollop of fresh whipped cream.

I learned quickly that German hot chocolate wasn't sweetened like in the U.S. You added sugar to taste. You should have seen my face the first time I tried it! The Germans and I had a good laugh over that.

There was the scrumptious Black Forest cake — I always took home a couple of generous slices. I could have eaten both, but I always saved one for my husband. At Christmas there was Stollen, and year-round there were chocolates, cookies, and treats too many to name. The smells... oh, the wonderful smells. I can't remember everything I tasted, but everything was good, and nothing ever went to waste.

My last stop before going home was the bakery where that good German bread was made. I took home loaves of bread and plenty of Brötchen. If I couldn't find something in the commissary, I went to the little grocery market. They had pickles, wines, fresh vegetables, and when in season, white asparagus. The same with berries and cherries. I bought good potatoes, carrots, cabbages — all fresh, all delicious.

I learned many recipes there. I learned how to make Schweinebraten, how to cook sausages properly, how to make schnitzel, sauerkraut, sauerbraten, bohnensalat, German fried potatoes — so many recipes shared with me. And I shared some of our Southern recipes with my friends.

When we returned stateside, I could find some of the foods and ingredients in the commissary, but not all. The flours, potatoes, beans, and some vegetables were different, so I improvised. Good — but not quite the same. That's why I was so happy when Aldi stores began opening here. Aldi is from Germany, and they carry some of the things I had been missing. Their big jar of German-style sauerkraut is wonderful, and I can make it the way I learned so many years ago.

The bakery, meat market, grocery store, and sweet shop were places to stop, look, smell, sample, and buy. The people were generous and helpful. The other little shops sold clothing, shoes, sewing supplies, and so many other things. I visited most of them. I always felt welcome.

There were two restaurants we especially loved. One was an Italian place — the lasagna, pizza, and pasta dishes were all delicious. But our very favorite was the Milch Bar. We went there several times a month, at least once a week. We got to know the owner and many of the customers — Germans, U.S. soldiers, and families.

The owner was kind enough to show me how to make his sauerkraut. That's still the way I make it today. He taught me so much. If the place wasn't too busy, he would tell me to come back into the kitchen, and he'd show me how to make different dishes. I loved it. I learned. And I was so very thankful.

 

Looking Back

 

Living in Germany shaped my life in ways I didn't fully understand until many years later. When I first arrived, I was barely eighteen. I grew up there. The first time, I lived in Germany for two years. Our first daughter was born there in 1966, and then we had to leave because my husband received orders for Viet Nam.

The second time we returned was in 1968, and that is when I truly came to know the people and make lasting friendships. I saw historical places, learned about events I had only read about, and listened to the stories of my German friends — their lives, their memories, their experiences. They shared freely because they trusted that I wasn't judgmental. They knew I only wanted to learn.

Living in Germany helped shape my adult life. I learned a culture other than my own. I got to know people who were not from my country. I loved every minute of it, and I am so thankful. I'm sure most of my older German friends have passed on now — after all, I am 80 years old myself — but I have lived a good and, I think, extraordinary life. I'm happy to be able to share some of it.

After all these years, I can truly say I loved Germany. I have so many memories I can look back on now. It was the best place I ever lived, and I am grateful for the adventure. And to add a little humor — our second daughter was "made in Germany." She was born after we returned to Texas in 1971.

These are the memories I remember best.

I would also like to add something about my family. I belong to Ancestry.com, and I did DNA testing for myself and my youngest daughter. I didn't have the opportunity to do one for my husband before he passed. Through my research, I discovered that on my mother's side, my 7th-great-grandfather was born in 1698 in Finkenbach, Donnersbergkreis, Rheinland-Pfalz, Germany. He, his wife, and their son came to America when it was still the British colonies. His son later fought in the American Revolution.

I like to think that this bit of my ancestry is why I felt so at home and welcome while living in Germany.

I want to thank my newfound Canadian friends for letting me write about my experiences and memories of living in Germany.

 

Claudine Bratcher, Fort Worth, Texas