Fifteen years in a childhood paradise

In the donkey cart

A great deal of the magic of my childhood is connected with Christmas. Christmas 1931 we received a beautiful rocking horse. Günter was riding it, and I was trying to hold it by its leather reigns. As it reared up, I lost the grip, and I cried. But then it came back down. Its face looked like a real miniature pony. There was a bit in its half-open mouth, real hair all over its body, and a long mane and tail made from horse hair. On its back was a saddle. For us it looked like Vater's saddle. We would spend hours riding on it, for many years, sometimes both of us sitting on it, sometimes we shared the time willingly, sometimes we fought for it, and Irene had to mediate.

Irene Lucht was the only German girl in our village, the daughter of a machinist in our starch factory. She came regularly to look after us. She was about ten years older than we, had beautiful long plaits, and we loved playing with her. Later on she was to become Vater's secretary.

In 1932 Father Christmas brought us a rather unusual gift. Vater told us: "I couldn't leave your main gift here in this room. It's too big, and we left it in the yard. I'll take you there tomorrow morning in daylight."

We wondered all night what it might be. We had no idea. When morning came, we put on our winter clothes and went with Vater and Mutter to the stables where our coach horses were. There in a stall was a donkey.

Vater said: "This is your big Christmas present." We were quite beside ourselves with joy.

"Can we ride it?" we both asked together.

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