The rainbow never sets

We rushed out and there it was, a blazing inferno. Quite awesome against the black clouds.

"It looks like fire-works," I said when I saw the sparks flying, fanned by the strong wind.

Suddenly the rain came down. Not as usually starting with a few big drops. This was an instantaneous deluge. We needed to run only about ten meters to our tent, but by the time we reached it we were all completely drenched.

We lit a kerosene lamp to give us some light, but our mood was still gloomy as night. All the joy of camping had gone. We were all damp and couldn't get comfortable. Outside the storm was still raging, and we were wondering if our make-shift tent would hold. Then we heard voices over the thunder and tumult: "Where are you? Halloo! Horst, Bernd É"

Our faces lit up: "Here in the tent," answered Horst, and he held out the lantern.

We could see a torchlight approaching. By now it was pitch dark. We recognised the voices of Onkel Werner and Tante Margaret. They stepped inside our tent, shaking the rain from their coats. It was still pouring.

"As soon as we saw the storm approaching we got into our car. We thought you might like to come back with us."

We nodded silently. Then Horst began to tell his parents about the lightening, how it had struck the wheat stack and how we saw it go up in flames. On our way to the car we looked to where we had seen the fire. There was nothing to be seen, all was black. Next day we heard that the deluge had put out the fire. Only the top of the stack had burnt. That was lucky!

After this experience, we never camped outside again, but Mutter made sure that we would not get bored at home. Her family lived in Germany, and so during the summer holidays of 1938 we travelled by car to her mother, who lived on an estate in Hulm, Silesia. At the border our car was searched, I didn't know what for. Eventually the border guards let us go. We were very impressed with the beautifully sealed roads in Germany, so different to our pot-holed gravel roads. The villages looked neat and tidy with trees and flowers in the gardens which surrounded the homes.

Onkel Helmut, Mutter's brother who had had polio as a 16-year old, which left him rather physically handicapped, managed the property, and Oma Hulm, as we called her, looked after him. From Hulm we made several excursions: Once to Beckern, where Mutter's sister, Tante Alice with her family Mackensen lived on a small farm. To Förstchen, where Onkel Wilhelm, Mutter's eldest brother farmed, and to several historical ruins and castles. Only the dungeons made a big impression on us, with their torture chambers. Quite horrible, and all so dank and no daylight!

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