Thoughts on Leaving the Old World

As you likely know, I am an aviation contractor living in Germany working for a defense contractor on US Army, and other allies, helicopters. It has been an exciting time for me as I learned quite a bit from a variety of people whose experiences run the gamut from the armed services of the US, Great Britain, South Africa, the former-Rhodesia, Germany and others, to manufacturers such as Airbus and Boeing, to people have have contracted nearly all their careers. It has been a really wonderful experience professionally.

And, of course, outside work I have met people who escaped communism by fleeing or by simply walking away as the weight of socialism came crashing down around them. There is the one who fought against Robert Mugabe with the Rhodesian Air Force, and the retired Deutsche Post (German Post Office) worker raised as Hitler Youth. There was Kurt, the former East German who built and serviced cranes worldwide, and who rode to Daytona's Bike Week on a Kawasaki. He was welcomed with open arms when he feigned a lack of English-language proficiency and laid on a thick German accent ("You can't come in here on THAT!" 'Bitte?' "Where're you from?" 'Deutschla.., uh, Germany.') So many stories, so much rich history, and I have found that it IS true that a big difference between Europeans and Americans is that Americans think 300 years is a long time, and that Europeans think 300 miles is a long trip (even if you can take it in your car at 200 mph!)
There are many things I will miss in Europe. The incredible history that is literally around EVERY corner is certainly one. The incredible public transportation system is another. The extensive bike trails and lanes all over the country are very useful, and I have made extensive use of them almost daily, commuting on my bicycle 11 kilometers (about 6.7 miles) to-and-from work each way.

And despite the German reputation for arrogance, I have found them to be very kind and welcoming as soon as they realized I was trying to learn their language and customs. It can be frustrating to try and learn a language and after saying something in the second language, having the person you're speaking to answer in English, "Can I help you?" or "Is there anything else?" Realizing I was trying to learn, their compassionate answer was to make it easier by speaking to me in English. I was so tempted on many occasions to say, "Yes! Please reply in German so I can learn!"

I will miss the English Church of Heidelberg, a wonderful, small, Anglican congregation with a parish deep in Old Heidelberg. Sharing the parish with a local Old Catholic congegration, Easter Service/Mass was incredible as a joint, dual language service in German and English. The English Church has German, Nigerian, British, American members, as well as one from Sierra Leone.

But, there are things I won't miss here. I will NOT miss US Army Garrison Baden-Wuerttemburg and their seemingly callous attitudes toward the people they support. Over a year before shutting down the local bases in Mannheim, the USO and library were closed! Additionally, the post theatre was shut down for renovations, reopened, and then closed less than a month later with signs posted stating the building had been deemed unsafe! (Your US tax dollars at work.)

I will NOT miss German radio. Folks if you think American radio programming is bad, try pulling up some German station on the internet. It's almost completely American Top 40, hip-hop and Euro-pop. The irony is that the concert scene here is unbelievable! Appearing here in Mannheim since I have arrived were Santana, Molly Hatchet, Skorpions, Peter Gabriel and so many others. Don't look for them on the radio, though.

Another thing I won't miss is the litter. Litter is all over the place here. Smoking is part or the cultural identity here and cigarette butts are everywhere, along with bottles, wrappers, boxes, paper, fast-food wrappers and cups. I have seen people standing outdoors beside a municipal waste basket toss their trash on the ground and walk away. Seemingly, there is no sense of personal responsibility concerning keeping their town and country clean.

Graffitti is everywhere, too. It is pervasive, and most of it is surprisingly artistic! I have even encountered a shop in Heidelberg's Old Town that catered to graffitti 'artists'!

While I like the autobahn and the freedom to drive as fast as I feel I can do safely, I'm not at all fond of Germany's other roads. It is amazing how many major roadways inside towns will be four lanes wide with a large median in the middle, lined with trees and flowers, and will end abruptly with no outlet whatsoever. Of course, on my bicycle, I can just take off down the nearest alley, sidewalk or path. And I have.

So, as I prepare to go home to South Carolina, I am excited about what adventure the Lord will send me on to next. I have yet to visit Auschwitz, Luxembourg or the other four mini-nations here in Europe. Sadly, too, I haven't been able to visit old friends in France, England and Ireland. But, I'm hopeful those opportunities will come. Time will tell.

World War II Stories in Print, on Film and as Oral History

In the past few years there has been a surge of new and interesting books and movies on the Second World War. I guess this should really be expected as so many of the "Greatest Generation" are leaving this World. Productions such as "Band of Brothers," "Saving Private Ryan," "Defiance" and the highly fictional "Inglorious Basterds" have helped to bring the greatest military cataclysm in history to a new generation. Additionally, I have encountered some amazing books recently such as "The Mascot," an incredible true story about a young Russian-Jewish boy who became the beloved mascot of a Latvian SS unit in World War II. Additionally, I have encountered some living personal histories here in Germany that are fascinating.

Just yesterday, I spoke with a Briton who spoke of his father, a Pole who fought at Arnhem in the 1st (Polish) Independent Parachute Brigade fighting with the Brirish Army. The Poles were nearly destroyed by the defending Nazi SS troops (this action was dynamically portrayed in the classic "A Bridge To Far") when they made their much delayed jump into the Netherlands. This man fought in France at the beginning (he was there working in his father's business), was captured and sent to a concentration camp and escaped during a British air raid. He then found his way back to France and then to England where he was able to join the Polish Army in exile. This man's son, the man I met, became a British Para (as the British refer to their airborne troops), and is now retired and working as a contractor in the IT field here in Germany.

Then there is the landlord of one of my colleagues, who was eight when the "Amerikaner Panzers" (tanks) arrived in Sandhofen, less than ten miles from here. His mother warned him to "stay away from the Americans! They're here to kill Germans!" When he and his mother went to bed that night the American tanks were 100 yards down the road. When he awoke in the morning (before his mother awoke), an American tank was in their front yard. He quickly dressed and as most any eight-year-old boy would do, ran out to see the tank. "The soldiers gave me food and chocolate," he related to me in his broken English and my broken German. "I loved the Americans," he told me through a huge, chuckling grin.

Today, I rented a 'New Release' at the Army shoppette called "Max Manus, Man of War." I have seen this DVD over the past month sitting on the shelves and finally rented it. I looked at the cover and sort of expected another film in the same vein as "Inglorious Basterds." Instead, I found a gem of a Norwegian film based very closely on the exploits of a Scandanavian national hero. (In retrospect, I can imagine Warren Zevon using this man as the model for his 'Roland the Headless Thompson Gunner.' If you've never heard it, check out Zevon's 1978 album "Excitable Boy." It was also the last song he ever performed publicly.)

Max Manus was a Norwegian mercenary infantry volunteer who went to Finland to fight the Soviets in the Winter War of 1939-1940. Despite odds of around 14-to-1, a lack of armor and a small, obsolescent air force, the Finns scored a miraculous tactical victory in the 3 1/2 months of war, fighting the communists to an embarassing and bloody stalemate. Nevertheless, sheer numerical superiority led Finland to relinquish nearly a quarter of its territory in the ensuing peace talks. Upon the German invasion of Norway in April of 1940 all the Norwegian volunteers, including Manus, were discharged from the Finnish military and sent home.

Upon his return to Norway, Manus and a boyhood friend formed a nascent resistance group that was eventually incorporated into the larger national resistance led by the Norwegian King Haakon 7, and his government- and military-in-exile.

It's a fascinating look at a small nation's efforts to stand up to overwhelming evil and might, and how the efforts of a few individuals can have far-reaching and positive effects despite truly overwhelming odds. It's a timeless story that, sadly, unfortunately, has lost most of its cachet in our current society.