town in the area, where we met with an educational expert to evaluate my potential as an engineer. Although only an average student in school, the results of my engineering aptitude test were excellent.
Engineering colleges, however, mandated two years of “hands-on” experience as a prerequisite for all students intending to pursue three years of academic coursework in the Diplom Engineer-Fach program—an engineering degree program with a more practical, rather than theoretical, orientation. Taking a train to the town of Luneburg close to the village where my father grew up, my father helped me find a large electrician’s shop where I could fulfill my two-year requirement working as a “voluntary”—which meant unpaid—apprentice electrician.
When I arrived in Luneburg to start my apprenticeship with the Johann Brockelt Company in January 1938, the head of the shop provided me with some basic instruction and immediately put me to work. Trained to disassemble, repair, and reassemble electrical motors as well as to install electrical wiring, I was soon performing all the basic tasks of the electrician’s trade.
Arriving at 7:30 in the morning, I worked until 4:30 each afternoon. My schedule included a half-day on Saturdays to make up for the one day a week that I attended electrical engineering classes at a special school in the city. Now pursuing a career of my own choosing, my academic performance greatly improved.
A major part of my work as an apprentice involved installing electrical wiring in newly constructed military barracks, unaware that I would soon be housed in such structures. One particularly cold winter day, I was up on a ladder installing lights on the ceiling of a large windowless room inside a barracks. To keep warm, I shut the door and lit a coal-filled drum below me on the floor.
Suddenly, I was struck by a tremendous headache and sensation of dizziness. Barely able to remain conscious, I climbed shakily down the ladder and stumbled out of the building. Only later did I learn that the culprit was carbon monoxide gas generated by the burning coal. It could have easily killed me if I had not managed to get out of the room and obtain fresh air when I did. Whatever such occupational hazards, my work as an apprentice electrician proved both interesting and useful to my career.
Though enjoying the freedom of being on my own, Luneburg did not particularly impress me. Located on the Ilmenau River, it was a river port and rail junction with about 40,000 inhabitants. Its infantry regiment, cavalry regiment, two battalions of artillery, and two Luftwaffe squadrons gave it the feeling of a military town.
Despite the daily five-mile commute into town on my bike, I preferred to be living out in the countryside on my Uncle Heinrich’s farm. Located in the village of Hagen just outside of town, I occupied a room in the same house where my father had grown up.
Before my arrival, my father had arranged for my food and lodging during my apprenticeship. He would also provide me with pocket money and pay for my weekday lunches at the boarding house of an elderly woman in Luneburg, while Uncle Heinrich would allow me to live in their large farmhouse as well as share their family suppers and weekend meals free of charge. This agreement served as a sort of compensation for the fact that my father had inherited nothing, whereas my uncle had received the family farm as the firstborn son.
My only complaint with my new accommodations was an uncomfortable bed that left my back aching in the morning. Examining the mattress, I discovered that one of the spiral springs was coming up through it. Approaching the matter like an engineer, I unscrewed the offending spring, pleased that I had resolved the problem so easily.
When I informed my uncle of my success in repairing the bed, he went through the roof, “You ruined the mattress!” Arriving home after work the next day, I found the mattress replaced with a sack of straw that would serve as my bed throughout my time in Luneburg.
In spite of a quite formal relationship with my Uncle Heinrich and Aunt Dora, my time in Hagen was generally pleasant and quickly brought me closer to people of my own age who lived there. In addition to my cousins Hartwig and Irma, there were two or three girls in residence there who were learning how to run a household under my aunt’s direction. Our group also included Bodo Voss, a distant relative who was learning to farm from Uncle Heinrich.
In the evenings after we had been dismissed from the dinner table by my aunt, the six or seven of us who made up our group enjoyed kidding around together out in the expansive ornamental garden behind the house. On one occasion, I thought that I could brashly slip a light-hearted kiss on the neck of one of these female trainees. Before I knew it, her hand swept through the air, etching all five of her fingers into my cheek. To this day, my cousins still tease me about that slap.
Our group sometimes went into Luneburg see a movie, have ice cream, or celebrate a special occasion. Five or six times I went into town with just Hartwig or Bodo to go dancing and meet local girls. Just before I turned 18, Bodo and I made the short train trip up from Luneburg to the major port city of Hamburg.
After our arrival, we headed to the Reeperbahn (River Street) in the Red Light District near the harbor. When we ventured through the door of a bar in the neighborhood, my hands were nervously fumbling around in my pockets as I was unsure what to expect.
Immediately, the establishment’s owner greeted me with a message over the loudspeaker system: “Stop playing with the nozzle of your fire hose!”
Red-faced with embarrassment, I quickly yanked my hands from my pockets and Bodo and I found a table. Pulling out the money we had hidden in our socks, we ordered a couple of drinks.
Within a couple of minutes, two “ladies” sat down beside us, blocking us into our booth. Though our female guests were uninvited, we felt obliged to buy them drinks.
Two farm boys presented easy marks for what were clearly a couple of professional bargirls. Before I knew what was happening, the hand of the one seated next to me had slid down into my pocket. My lack of experience in dealing with such an aggressive woman left me utterly petrified.
A scheme of escape quickly formed in my mind and I told my new partner that I had to pay a visit to the men’s room. Suspicious of my intentions, she refused to let me leave the table until Bodo’s companion persuaded her that my need was genuine. Though finally permitting me to get up, the woman closely pursued me to the restroom.
Upon entering my refuge, I immediately locked the door behind me. Crouching down, I peeked out through the keyhole. Like a sentry, the woman remained posted just outside. Five minutes passed before she at last wandered away. Seizing the chance, I made a quick getaway out the door of the bar and crossed the street where I halted to wait for Bodo.
Ten minutes later he caught up with me. The look on his face was furious. He berated me, “How could you leave me in there with those whores!”
At other times I went out in Luneburg separately from the group in Hagen. When returning to the farm late at night alone, I sometimes would find that the front door had been locked. Lacking a key, I would whistle to my cousin Irma upstairs and she would come down to let me inside.
Coming back late one night in mid-November 1938, my whistle produced no response. Taking an alternative route through the connecting cow barn, I entered the house by way of the attic. Reaching Irma’s room, I knocked on her door to inquire why she had failed to come downstairs. Receiving no answer, I opened the door and found her lying still in her bed.
When I spoke to her, she made no reply and failed to stir. At that moment, I saw the pistol laying next to her hand and the blood on her pillow. In a state of shock, I woke her older brother Heinrich who was home on leave from the army and told him that there was something gravely wrong with Irma.
Only a couple of weeks before I found her body, she had casually asked our opinion regarding the best way for someone to commit suicide. Never dreaming that such a beautiful girl might take her own life, I offhandedly suggested a pistol. Though no one ever offered me any explanation for her suicide, I can only speculate that she had been raped or had become pregnant. It is my belief that she simply could not stand the shame and put a pistol in her mouth.
Her tragic death was something that I never forgot, even with all the deaths and grief that followed in the years to come.
ROMANCE IN THE LAST MONTHS OF PEACE
September 1938–August 1939
