The rainbow never sets

our tent. We would take turns to keep watch for two hours while the others slept, just as we had read it in our books about red indians.

We got some blankets and pillows, and some food that needed heating up over an open fire.

It felt like the real thing, especially when my turn came to keep watch. "Wake up, Dieter," said Günter, "for the next two hours you must walk up and down, and don't let anyone see that our tent is hidden here under the tree. Wake Bernd when it is his turn to take over from you."

It was eerie to be up at night all by yourself. The owls were calling in the distance, the moon shone its silver light over the park and over the manor house, which was nearby. It was good to think that someone friendly lived so close. I imagined all kinds of foes hiding behind the tall trees, and from the lake came strange noises. It was altogether spooky and not as nice as I had imagined it. I was glad when my time was over, and I could wake Bernd.

"It's your turn now," I said, and crawled under my blanket where I felt secure again.

That was the last watch I did. Bernd tried to wake Günter at 4 am, but couldn't. None of us minded, as we all had a turn at watching, and we slept wonderfully, till the sun was up. Then we heard a strange noise.

"What was that?" asked Günter. We each got our tomahawk and crawled out to see. The noise came from the footpath. Could it be some foe imitating a bird call as a signal to attack us? We were glad it was daylight.

There, from behind a bush came a turkey hen with her 25 or so pheasant chicks. Our turkeys were used to finish breeding pheasant eggs that were found in a nest on the ground when the grass was cut. Our workers had instructions to leave the grass cutter immediately and bring the still warm eggs to where the clucky turkeys were sitting. Once they hatched the turkey mother would lead her pheasant chicks and shelter them under her wings. When they were bigger, they were released in the park, where the turkey hen guided them, until one day they all would fly away and leave her on her own.

We began to laugh with relief. No enemy after all so early in the morning. It had been a wonderful night, we all agreed, and we should do it again.

Not until 1938 did we repeat a night out. This time it was going to be in Strykowo, and Horst was going to be in it too. That gave us lots of confidence, and anyhow, we were much older then. The tent was made of tarpaulin. They didn't have such a nice park as we did, so we went into their woods instead, which was quite a distance from their home. We were taken there by Onkel Werner by car, and left to fend for ourselves. We had to cook dinner properly, none of that warming up business.

"Thick pea soup," I said, "we all like it, especially with some ham or bacon."

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