The rainbow never sets

"Dear Mr. Tieman, Today I have finally received your address through the search services of the Red Cross. I would love to hear from you whether you have heard anything about your son, who was drafted into the Grenadier Reserve Battalion 96 (Krotoschin) in December 1944. I used to live in Posen and knew your sons before the military service. As we were together in camp I remember him telling me a lot about the property you had, that he had lived in Poland before the war and that he could speak Polish. To describe him, he was about 1.72 m tall, slim, oblong face, dark hair. As I know both your sons (I was with your younger together in the FLAK, I can't remember his name. Was it Horst? or Günther? I had gone through three years of imprisonment and suffered heavy, soul-shattering experiences, that I do not remember his name any more, but so that you see that it is your son I am talking about, I have written all the above. In any case, please let me know if you have had news from your son. I may be able to give you some information. I have returned from Russian POW camp in February 1948 and looked upon this as my duty to let you know about this. Yours sincerely, Klaus Henning." Güglingen Kreis Heilbronn, Maulbronner Str.1., 19.7.48

After Vater had written to him, my parents had received the sad news that Günter, in all probability, had been killed by the Russians in January 1945.

Güglingen, 16.8.48 Ñ "Dear Mr & Mrs Tieman, Many thanks for your kind letter, which I wish to reply immediately. I am specially glad to hear that your youngest son Dieter had been pulled out of the FLAK position in Posen in time before the Russians came. That way he was spared the suffering of a Russian POW camp, and did not have to fight to the last in the fortress Posen. Now to your son Günter. I would like to give you an accurate account of the events which led to our being taken prisoners. Günter and I were in the same training group. We both got on very well together. He would often talk about you, so that your family had become quite familiar to me. When the front collapsed in January 1945, we were stationed in Krotoschin. Again it was our fate to stay in two holes in the ground next to each other. We also stood watch together at night. When Krotoschin became a fighting ground, the fighting became very hard. I remember exactly, that we drank a bottle of red wine together in the Krotoschin Brickworks and had expressed the hope, that we would be able to break through. Then we tried to break through and we succeeded. We headed towards Silesia for days on end, while the Russians were all around us. One night we rested in a village. Next afternoon, the Russians were already there. It was impossible to leave our house, as it seemed such a good hiding place. The Russians made themselves at home, smashed everything to pieces,

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