| Berlin, 1945 No 5 Army Film & Photographic Unit, Wilkes A (Sergeant) |
When World War II was in its final stages in Europe, my father dropped out of high school in order to join the Army and get overseas, where both his brothers were. My Uncle Louis was in the Pacific, my Uncle Charlie was in Europe. Uncle Louis was in the Army Air Force, my Uncle Charlie was in the infantry, 63rd Infantry Division.
The war ended before my Dad could get overseas, but that's where he went once he was done training. He was assigned to occupation duty in Berlin.
Dad had a lot of pictures of the ruins of that once great city, much like that above. The city and the aftermath of the war made quite an impression on a 17 year old kid, away from home for the first time. He spent three years in Berlin, he must have had a great time given the amount of trouble he got into with the Army!
But for a couple of really good sergeants I had in my youth, I might have made similar mistakes as my Dad did. Those guys kept me on the straight and narrow.
I have a special connection with Germany and the Germans. Probably because of my father. I learned German in high school and seemed to have a natural aptitude for the language. A lot of folks think I am of German descent because of that and my affinity for Germany. But nope, not a drop of German blood do I have.
I lived there for seven and a half glorious years. Not at some big American base where you were isolated from the culture. I was in NATO. Most of the people I worked with every day were German. My neighbors were, with two exceptions, German. We got along well. We lived in a small village near the Dutch border, a lovely place. My favorite officer in my entire time in the Air Force was a Luftwaffe Oberstleutnant², Gerd Bauer. A fine man.
At any rate, Berlin is also in my blood, so to speak. While that remains true, I never got there in my time in Germany. You might ask why? Well, I was waiting for my parents to come over to Germany so I could show Dad the new city. But they never made it over³, so I didn't go. I did get the opportunity to meet a real Berlin couple one New Year's Eve, but that's a story for another time. So I've met real Berliners. (Note, it's just Berliner, not "a Berliner," which is a type of jelly donut⁴.)
Lately I've been reading up on the last days of the Third Reich. I am very familiar with the Western Front at this time, a little (perhaps a lot) less familiar with the Eastern Front. In the East the Germans were essentially retreating and had been retreating since Stalingrad. Russia was always a nasty front from the very beginning all the way up to the end. (Watch Downfall for a taste of the end.)
At any rate, I feel a story coming on. Not sure when it will start but it will be near the end of the war and involve the events leading up to and probably including the fall of Berlin and the aftermath of that event.
Nasty times, hope I can do them justice. (And hopefully this isn't another false start.) Anyhoo, here's a good Mark Felton video of the Battle of the Seelow Heights. The last battle before the Soviets got to Berlin. A scene setter if you will ...
¹ Berlin remains Berlin. Not sure how true this is today with the ongoing invasion of Europe by non-Europeans, but it was true for a long time. Even under the Soviets and their flunkies.
² Lieutenant Colonel
³ My mother doesn't like to fly. Long story there, probably not worth telling. Kinda irks me to this day.
⁴ The President, in a speech in Berlin, stated, "Ich bin ein Berliner." What he was saying at this early point in the Cold War is that he was a man of Berlin. Linguistically he should have said, "Ich bin Berliner." No need for the "a" in that sentence, which changes the meaning a lot. The Germans found (and still find) that malaprop amusing, but they knew what the President was trying to say and respected him for that.