studying the Bible when we were growing up, my siblings and I did receive a religious education at home and in our confirmation classes at church. We learned to follow the Bible’s teachings to tell the truth, and to work hard. We were taught to always consider the needs of those around us and remember that we have an obligation to them.
Because the local Lutheran pastor served several other villages at the same time, he only held services in Puggen every second Sunday. On these Sunday mornings, my family dressed in our best clothes and walked over to the small fieldstone church in Puggen. Seated in our family’s pew, we joined thirty or forty other people from six or seven local families in the community for an hour-long worship service. On special Sundays we would sometimes attend church in the nearby village of Rohrberg.
After the church service, our family would sit down at the dinner table for a formal family lunch, our largest meal of the week. We would refrain from eating until my mother sat down and recited the prayer, “Thank the Lord for He is good and His mercy endures forever.” Similarly, we waited to leave the table until she gave another prayer or otherwise dismissed us.
Over food, we would talk about the farm gossip in Puggen or politics, but there was not much banter unless it was of a very socially acceptable type. When the meal ended, my father would sometimes hitch up a couple of horses to our family’s open-air buggy. Our family would then pile into it for a drive around the fields or the nearby pine forest. Sundays were relaxing and enjoyable for me, but I never looked forward to the next five days of the week once I started my schooling.
At age six, I began my education in Puggen’s one-room schoolhouse, located on the first floor of a two-story building right across from our farm in the center of the village. Our teacher, Herr (Mr.) Kunne, lived in the rooms next to and above the classroom with his family and taught perhaps 30 to 40 local children.
When Herr Kunne entered the classroom, we would all immediately stand at attention behind our desks until he said, “Good morning boys and girls. Please sit down.” Because the pupils in the large classroom ranged from first to eighth graders, he would then have to give separate lessons to each grade, though everyone would, of course, hear it all.
In running his class, Herr Kunne maintained strict discipline and none of us ever dared to challenge him in any way. While he was always demanding, his dictations proved especially difficult. Depending on the number of errors a student made in copying his dictation, he or she might receive a spanking with a switch in front of the entire class or have to remain after school to complete additional assignments.
Although maintaining only average grades in all subjects, I was generally able to avoid Herr Kunne’s punishments. When school let out, I would return to our house to do my homework. Afterward, my time was spent on farm chores or playing with some of the other children in the village.
Early on, I became friends with several of the boys my age in Puggen: Otto Werneke, Fritz Dampke, and Otto Tepelman. Among my peers, I tended to be a more reserved and private person, like my father. For me, friendship was less about camaraderie and more about exercising leadership and cooperating with others to accomplish some purpose.
Upon finishing fourth grade in 1930, I left the village school in Puggen and spent the next eight years attending a larger and better school in the town of Beetzendorf, located about six miles from our village. Like many upper level schools at the time, this school required the payment of a small tuition, which helped support a dedicated and professional staff.
Every morning around 7:30, I would set out on my bicycle for the 30-minute trip to school, even if it was raining or snowing. This journey was often miserable in the cold and snow of winter, since I was dressed in the short pants that most of us wore year-round. A pair of knee-high stockings provided my calves with a little warmth, but my knees were often red and numb by the time I reached the school.
While we remained together with the same group of male and female students throughout the day, our teachers would circulate among the school’s classrooms to provide us with an hour or so of instruction in history, German literature, science, mathematics, English, and French.
The school offered more engaging give-and-take discussions between the instructors and students, but my academic struggles persisted. A couple of times, my parents had to read me the riot act when I received a note from the school informing them that I was not doing well in my classes. Such letters bothered me deeply because of my parents’ disappointment, but my performance never greatly improved.
It was rare for children from Puggen to attend the school in Beetzendorf. Children were only required to attend school through the eighth grade and most either apprenticed to learn a trade or began working full-time on a farm or in some other employment after that. As part of an extended family that included teachers, doctors, and lawyers, my parents perhaps placed a higher value on education than most other families in our farming community. This commitment was also demonstrated by my father’s willingness to pay my tuition in the midst of the Depression.
When outside the school buildings during recreation periods or after class, the boys would wear caps with colored bands identifying their class year. While discipline was strictly enforced inside the school building, there were occasional full-scale brawls right behind it. Typically, these slugfests resulted from disputes among boys of different class years or from different villages around Beetzendorf. In one instance when another student began calling me names, I engaged in one of these fistfights, but I generally tried to avoid such crude behavior.
On most days, I rode my bike straight home, where I would work on my homework assignments and help out around the farm. Despite the many hours spent completing my farm chores and schoolwork, I generally enjoyed a carefree youth and often found time to pursue other interests and activities.
GROWING UP
Probably more curious and adventurous than most other kids, I always wanted to explore my surroundings and learn what was going on around me. At the same time, my father and mother were especially strict parents and disciplined me sternly if I misbehaved. While they accepted my independent spirit, they also taught me responsibility and respect for authority.
One summer afternoon when I was about ten years old, I was playing soccer with some other local kids in a sports field just behind our farm. Feeling the urgent call of nature, I opted not to take the time to run back to our family’s outhouse and instead headed into a nearby field of rye about five feet tall.
Unfortunately, a neighbor saw me and informed my father that his son had trampled another farmer’s field, an almost sacrilegious act. When I returned home that evening, my father gave me a forceful lecture on respecting a neighbor’s crops. Though I tried to explain the urgency of the moment, my father dismissed my pleas and reinforced his point with a severe spanking with a wooden switch.
About this same time, I joined a group of other boys from Puggen who wanted to play a prank on an elderly man in his seventies who regularly walked down the sandy road that ran between our farm and the pastures to the south. There was some debate over what we should do, but everyone eventually agreed on my scheme of outfitting myself as a ghost in order to scare him.
While the boys remained behind in the woods to watch, I went out to the road covered by a white bedsheet as our victim approached. Though hardly able to see anything in the darkness through the sheet, I knew he was coming closer to me so I began making what I thought were creepy noises.
Much to my surprise, my supernatural appearance did not produce the desired alarm. Instead of cowering in fear, the old man began whacking me repeatedly over the head with his cane. With my plan gone awry, I attempted to make a run for it, but could only manage to stumble away blindly. Alas, the identity of the culprits behind this fiasco was obvious in a small village like Puggen. On reaching home that night, my father made me pay a visit to the gentleman and apologize.
Being athletic, I enjoyed playing a number of different sports when growing up, especially soccer. In the winters we played ice hockey on a frozen pond located about a half-mile from the school in Beetzendorf as part of the school’s physical education class. Often lacking enough players to have a game, one of the teachers would occasionally join us. To express our gratitude, we took every opportunity to knock him onto the ice. Those games provided a rare opportunity to ignore the normal social rules that demanded respect for those in authority.
Equestrian sports were not a hobby of mine, but I often rode on horseback and developed into a competent
