Refugee in search of a homeland

Both of us wanted to go on to university after school, I to study agriculture, he to do humanities.

Pastor Borchert gave a moving address on Sunday. He gave thanks to God for saving Westerhausen from the ravages of war, and for bringing peace to this area. He also remembered those that would not come back from the war, the millions that had died, and would still be dying, before the end. I thought again of Günter, was he among the dead, the prisoners, or still fighting somewhere? The uncertainty about him etched an indelible mark on my soul.

On Monday we received the surprise visit of Tante Margaret, Mutter's youngest sister. She had heard where we were and had waited for our area to be occupied by the Americans. She stayed with us for a few days. When I mentioned that I had to go to the Quedlinburg hospital, she agreed to come with me.

We left early, as the eight-kilometer-walk would take us quite a while. When we came to the outskirts of Quedlinburg, an American patrol stopped us. They wanted to send us back again.

"No, we want to go to Quedlinburg," said I in my best English. "Where do you want to go?" the soldier asked us in the broadest American drawl.

"What did he say?" Tante Margaret couldn't understand. "He wants to know where we are going," I said in German. To the American I said:

"To visit some friends." "Friends???" He did not seem to understand, or did not want to understand. "No friends!"

I searched my brain for another word. "Acquaintances," I remembered proudly. "Oh, yeah, acquaintances. You may go." "What does that word mean?" Tante Margaret wanted to know. "Someone you know, but who isn't a friend."

"It worked like a magic pass word." We laughed as we entered the town of Quedlinburg. Tante Margaret went her own way, while I went to the hospital. The specialist took my turban bandage off and examined me carefully.

"Looks fine to me. The doctor in Beeliz has done a very good job. You don't need another bandage, a band aid will do. If you get any problems with the wound, see your local doctor. You don't have to come back to me again."

That was great news for me. I waited for Tante Margaret, and we went back to Westerhausen with no further hold-ups.

Meanwhile, Frau Koggel had been listening to the radio. She was following with great interest the news about Hitler, whom she still adored. On the 20th, his birthday, he broadcast his usual address to the German people from his bunker in Berlin. According to Frau Koggel, he indicated

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