Our Father's Generation

by F. M. Worden

  “If you’re here, I will.”

  She smiled and said, “I work here every day.”

  “Ha, things are looking up,” I said to myself.

  I walked back to the bakery and to my room. I spent the rest of the afternoon writing letters home. Then lay down and took a nap. When I woke, I was as lonely as I had ever been. I was feeling sorry for myself and said so out loud.

  I went down to the bakery; Alfred was there alone.

  I asked “Where’s Jennifer?”

  Alfred kind-a hung his head and said “She has gone to Switzerland; the Golden family have all gone. It’s been planned a long time. I now own this bakery. Jennifer asked me to tell you good bye and she said she will miss you.

  There I go again Jinxed with women. Find one I like: she’s gone I hope they will be safe.

  I said a silent payer to God to keep the Golden family safe.

  I felt hungry, so decided to go back to the café I had been at this morning. There I saw the young woman I had talked with this morning still working. I took a table by the window. She came and took my order. When she came with the food, she sat down and asked questions about me ; I told her my story. Right away, she became friendly and told me her name was Rose. She said she had never met an American.

  “It’s time for me to go home; would you like to walk me there?”

  “You bet I will.” Walking her home, I told her I had planned to go to church this evening. “Will you go with me?”

  “Yes, I don’t belong to that church, but I’ll go anyway.”

  I left her standing on the porch of her home. I said to myself, “I feel better meeting this good looking girl.” I could hardly wait to see her again. It was not far to my room from her house. I took a short nap.

  On the way to her house, I stopped at the bakery and had two donuts for supper. As I approached her house, she met me on the sidewalk. She asked, “Do you go to church much at home?”

  “Most of the time I go every Sunday.” We walked to the church and went down to the basement where the young people were meeting. It was a little strange, to say the least. There was little talk of Jesus or of God, a lot of talk of the new Germany. One girl asked Rose why she was there. “You don’t belong to this church.” Rose only looked away.

  I told the girl, “She’s with me.” That’s all that was said.

  After the meeting, Rose and I walked on the way to her home. She had said very little, I was afraid I had offended her somehow. We were passing a short wall of a house. I asked if we could sit and talk awhile. She sat right down, took my hand and said, “Frank, you are the most pleasant boy I have ever met. You must know that I am Catholic, do you care?”

  “No, I think that’s swell; you are the kind of girl I am looking for. Rose, would you leave your country and come live in America if you fell in love with me?”

  “I can’t answer your question, only if I fell for you.”

  We stood, I took her in my arms, she looked up at me, and her beautiful round laughing eyes looked straight into mine. Her dimpled cheeks and long brown hair made a perfect picture in the dim moonlight. I could not help myself, I kissed her soft lips. She pulled away, then came back and kissed me hard on the lips.

  “I’ve never been kissed by a boy before.”

  “I hope I’m the first and the last.”

  She was smiling as she spoke, “You speak German very well, did you learn it in school?”

  “No, my grandparents are German, they speak it all the time, so does my Father. My mother is French. She made my brothers and I learn as we grew up. We also speak Mexican, as that’s about all the cowboys on our ranch speak.”

  “That’s wonderful, Frank, to have command of so many languages.”

  “I wish I was better.”

  By then we had reached Rose’s home. As we climbed the steps to the porch, her mother opened the door and said, “It’s late, Rose, past your bedtime.”

  Rose turned to me and said, “Thank you, Frank, for a swell evening.”

  Her mother pushed her through the door and gave me a hard look, never saying a word. As I walked away, I said to myself, “I don’t think that woman cares for me.

  I had a fitful night, I dreamed of Lilly and her mother, somehow Jennifer and Rose seeped into my dreams also.

  It was Monday morning; I had a bike to go get. I sang all the way to the auto shop. The song was {Bicycle Built for Two}.

  At the shop, she sat out on the sidewalk all polished and shining. Wow! She looked better than I expected, I asked if she ran. Hans said, “Like a top. She’s full of fuel and waiting for you, I checked her out complete. She is ready to take you anywhere you want to go.”

  I paid him, got on and kicked the starter. She fired right up. “Thank you, Hans!” I yelled over the engine noise and rode out on to the street.

  It was an hour before I had to be in class, so I took a ride around town, and then parked in the lot at school. Several guys came over and told me the Army had many bikes with side cars like mine. After class, I drove around some more. Hunger got to me, so I went to the café Rose worked at. She wasn’t there. I asked the boss about her.

  He told me she only worked part time now, she had studies to do. She worked a few hours in the mornings only.

  I rode passed her house with no results. I went on home to the bakery and parked in the shed at the rear of the building. I went in the shop to see Alfred to tell him about my bike. He gave me some strudel for my supper. I retired to bed after writing letters home to Mom and Uncle Bob.

  The week fairly flew by. I had heard more disturbing words about Jews from my classmates. I tried to defend them, saying we had many well known Jews in America and no one said anything bad about them.

  One smart ass boy said to me, “You don’t know the Jews in this country. They own everything, all our trouble was started by them.”

  “The Jewish people I have met in Germany have come to be my friends; they don’t brag or are pushy at all.”

  That boy didn’t like what I said but he would not challenge me. After that, I didn’t hear much from the students about the Jews.

  I kept going to the café Rose worked at, but I had not seen her in quite awhile. I began to wonder if my kissing her turned her away from me. I thought I sure was jinxed when it came to women. I thought I should turn to God, maybe he could help me.

  I hope he can find a girl I could be with awhile.

  Chapter 7

  Rose – Doctor Wolfe

  This is what I came to Europe to learn. Professor Hoffmann was a wonderful teacher; he made the subject of architecture easy. I now see why my Uncle Bob wanted me to come to Europe. The days flew, the subjects were first rate, I loved this school. Even most of the students were becoming friendly.

  Saturday morning I was up early. I wanted to take a ride on my bike and see some of the countryside. At Rose’s café, I was eating breakfast when Rose came to work. My bike sat at the curb in all its glory.

  From my table, I saw her stop to look at my beauty. She came in and talked to her boss, then came to my table and sat down. She said, “My boss just gave me the day off. You want to make a day of it with me?”

  “Holy Cow, you bet! We’ll take a ride out into the country.”

  She said, “We should go tell my daddy we’re going for a ride.” Her words took me back a bit.

  “Are you sure he’ll approve of me and my motorcycle?”

  “Oh, yes,” she said. “I told him all about you. He likes Americans. Frank, he was in the war and was captured by the Marine American soldiers. He said they treated all the captured Germans very well. He wants to meet you and see your BMW, he had one when he was young.”

  “I’m going to like your Father; he’s my kind of man. When can we go to see him?” All my fear of meeting her father suddenly disappeared.

  “He’s the desk man at the main Police Station; it’s in the heart of Munich. We can go see him now.” We went out to the bike. I gave her a leather helmet
and goggles. She put them on, I told her she looked just like Amelia Earhart.

  She asked, “Who’s that?”

  “Only the greatest woman American flyer. You could pass for her.” She got a big laugh out of that. She gave me the cutest smile I ever saw. I pulled my helmet on and fired my beauty of a bike up. She climbed in the sidecar and we were off to the police station.

  At the station, I backed the BMW into the curb where there were several police bikes parked. Rose jumped out and strolled right into the station. I had to hurry to catch up with her. She went right to the policeman behind a desk. He got up and came around the desk to meet us. What a good looking man her dad was. He saw me and put his right hand out and I shook it.

  “This is Frank, my American friend,” Rose said proudly.

  “Who else?” her father said looking at her with the helmet and goggles on. He asked, “Are you going flying?” he was laughing as he spoke.

  “Don’t you laugh; Frank told me I look just like Amelia Earhart? You know who she is?”

  “Yes, pet, I read the papers. She’s a great American woman flier.” I liked her dad. “Where are you kids going?” he asked.

  “For a ride in the country,” Rose answered with lots of enthusiasm.

  He turned to me and asked, “Do you have a sticker for your bike?”

  “No, sir. I didn’t know I had to have one.”

  “Come to the desk, I’ll issue you one.” He went to a drawer and gave me a large red sticker with a black swastika on it. “Put it on your front wheel cover, it will take you anywhere you want to go, almost.”

  I thanked him and said again, “I didn’t know I had to have one.”

  “You bought the bike from Hans. He should have told you, you had to have one.” Rose’s daddy was a nice guy. I’d met many good people like him in Nazi Germany. He asked again where we were going.

  “For a ride in the country,” Rose told him.

  Her daddy told us not to go north. The army was having some kind of war maneuvers that way. “Go southeast. I’ll give you a pass to go thirty meters, no farther.”

  “I would like to take her to the movies when we get back.” As I spoke, I gave him my best eye to eye look.

  He said, as he gave me a hard look, “You have her home by midnight.”

  “Yes, sir, I will, I promise.”

  On the way to the bike, she was skipping and kind of dancing, she jumped right in the side car. She was as cute as a bug, just as cute as a girl could be. I’m a lucky guy, to have met her. It seemed I’d been very lucky meeting nice girls.

  I got on the bike and looked across the street at a huge flag hanging from the building; it was red and had a white circle with the black swastika. I asked what the place was.

  “It’s Gestapo headquarters. A place you don’t want to go,” she said. “From what I’ve heard, no one wants to go there. My daddy says people go in and never come back.”

  I fired up and we headed southeast to Roseenheimer str., across the Isar River and on to the road going to Salzburg. It was a clear, cloudless fall day; the blue sky was never bluer. There was a bit of a cold nip in the air, my jacket felt good. I rode slowly, the fresh air in our faces made you glad to be alive.

  Rose was having a great time with both hands in the air making them float. She was smiling and laughing until a big bug hit her square in the face. I pulled over to see if she was hurt. “It hurts,” she was almost crying. A big red round welt appeared on her left cheek.

  I lifted my goggles and said, “Come over, I’ll fix it.” She leaned over and I kissed her cheek. She got out of the sidecar and climbed a small rise and sat down. I climbed up and sat beside her.

  I was looking her hurt over when two German soldiers pulled up on motorcycles. Both men came around my bike and stood before us. Both had rifles slung over their backs. The older one demanded our papers. She went to the sidecar and got hers. I gave him my passport and the pass Rose’s father gave me. The other one was looking Rose over pretty good. He was about our age. The one with me made me take off my helmet and goggles he made me stand and raise my hands, he patted me down. The other started to do the same to Rose.

  In no uncertain terms she said, “Don’t you dare touch me.” He didn’t.

  The older one said, “They’re just kids. What’s a nice German girl doing with this American?” he was addressing Rose.

  “That’s none of you business.” She came over and stood next to me.

  He threw my papers on the ground, gave Rose hers and told the other soldier, “Let’s go,” in a gruff voice. They fired up and left.

  Rose said, “Two nasty men. Let’s go, I know where there’s a village we can get something to eat.”

  We rode a little farther. She had me turn off on a dirt road. In a few meters, we entered the village of Miesback. A beautiful little village set in a mountain meadow. There was a small café and we had a sandwich and a beer.

  Back at the bike, we had drawn a crowd of youngsters. They were looking the BMW over. Rose climbed in the sidecar and put on her helmet and starting telling them all about the machine. More kids came. Rose told them I was an American. One little girl touched me. She said I looked like everyone else. Rose told them that some of my people were from Germany.

  One girl came and gave me a St. Christopher medal on a chain. “It will keep you safe in Germany,” she said.

  I tried not to take it but Rose said I should. “This village is Catholic, see the church?” She pointed to a beautiful little chapel, I hadn’t noticed it before. Rose said, “I’m a Catholic, too.”

  “I guessed that,” I told her.

  We wished all the kids good luck, good bye and drove back to the main road. We drove a few meters on to the east and stopped by a big lake. We sat talking for a while. The shadows began to get long. We had to head back to Munich before it got dark.

  In town, we stopped at the Carlton café and had supper. Now it was after dark, I wanted to take her to a movie. She wanted to see a German film called {Triumph of Will.} It was showing at a local movie house. She told me her Father didn’t want her to see it until she grew up. “Do you think I’m old enough to see an adult film?”

  “Is it a dirty film?”

  “Oh no, it’s about Germany, the Fuhrer, the Nazi party and all that. I would like to see it.”

  “Okay, let’s go have a look.”

  What a letdown that film was, I wasted my money on that awful movie. You would think by that movie that the Nazi party was the second coming of Jesus Christ. What a phony, I think half the people in that movie house thought that Hitler was the German Messiah the way they were applauding at every mention of Hitler’s name.

  I got Rose home around eleven o’clock. We sat on the front porch until her mother came out and told her, “It’s time for bed.” I wanted to meet her mother again. I could see where Rose got her good looks. I told her mom that, I got a great smile from her. I told them good night, drove home, put the bike in the shed and went up to bed without a shower, I was dead tired.

  I was awakened by the sound of glass breaking. I jumped from my bed, looked out the window down at the street below. What a terrible sight, two men in brown clothing were beating an old man with a club. Others were breaking windows out of all the shops that I could see. What was going on? I asked myself.

  A young man came from one of the shops across the way. He tried to run up the street. Three of the hoodlums knocked him down and beat him with clubs unmercifully. The poor guy never had a chance.

  It was all over in a few minutes the street became quiet. It was Sunday morning. What a way to greet the Lord’s Day. I got dressed as quickly as I could and went down on the street to see if I could help these poor people. Other people had come out to help. The man beaten so savagely was dead; Good God, what a mess all the shops had their windows broken out, all accept the bakery. All the windows were broken that had the Star of David on them.

  I was helping an older man when Alfred came to help me to
get the man into one of the shops. His wife was there. She was crying uncontrollably. When she saw we were trying to help, she led us to their rooms in the back of the shop. This old man was a clock maker. The hoodlums had broken both his hands; at least he was alive. We laid him on a bed, she said she would take care of him now.

  Alfred said we should get over to the bakery. “The thugs may come back. We better be off the street.” I followed him over to the bakery. Inside, he said, “This kind of savage beating of Jews and destroying their property has been going on all night. The radio has named it {Pogrom}, the Destruction of Jewish Property. The Nazis are calling last night {Crystal Night}, the breaking of Jewish glass. I would feel bad to be a German today.”

  “Surely the police could have stopped these men?” I questioned Alfred.

  “No, they just watched. I saw it time and time again as I came to the shop. The police just stood by and watched.”

  “How can that be? The police are supposed to help the people.” I was more confused than ever.

  Alfred suggested we should stay off the streets today. “I have food in the ice box and a hot plate in the rear room. We can fix our meals here.” He said he was concerned for our safety. “These thugs running the streets may jump anyone they find out there. Let’s not take the chance.” I agreed to his suggestion.

  We stayed all day in the bakery. I got to know Alfred a little better that day. He told me if I ever needed him he was more than ready to help me. Jeepers, what a nice guy he was.

  That night, I stayed in my room and had a fitful night’s sleep. I wrote Mom and Dad a letter but said nothing of the trouble I had seen. If my incoming letters were being opened, I was sure outgoing ones were, too. I played it cool.

  Monday morning, I got the bike out and rode to school without breakfast. There was a buzz going on about Crystal Night. I didn’t hear many students condemn the brown shirts’ actions against the Jews.

  At lunch, I went to the school cafeteria to eat. A young lady came to me and told me Professor Hoffmann wanted to see me in his office. I hurried to finish my lunch and went to his office. He was having his lunch out of a brown paper bag. He asked me to sit down as he wanted to have a talk. “You had trouble in your neighborhood where you have rooms?”