In November 1944 all schools in our district were closed. By rules and regulations I had another six months to complete my eight years of primary schooling. But the military battlefield had entered our district. We had already experienced the air raids and bombing in the previous two-years. On many occasions at night or day the aircraft became disabled in the air raids and broke up, fell to the ground within a distance of a few hundred meters from our farmhouse. Only on one occasion I had noticed a single survivor stepping out of his wrecked plane.
The Volksturm started to be formed in our district. The brown shirts (NAZI) were going around looking for men. Lucky there was an age limit in place. October was the cutting off point. It turned out that every one born before that day, had turned 14 must join the Volksturm whether they wanted to or not. One arm or one leg damaged was no excuse unless you were more then 65 years old or under 14 years of age. I had been disadvantaged due to my legs in entering school one year late. Luck was on my side that my birthday was the 20 November 1930, to escape on the compulsory Volksturm services. Suddenly I became the oldest boy in the neighbourhood. All my primary school classmates
were taken into the Volksturm. Children of equal ages born in the same year, and who had been one or two classes in front of me, were taken into the army,
“Volksturm”. It was luck that all from our district returned, but some had received wounds to bear for the rest of their lives. Hubert Spiecher who was 75 years of age could barely walk without a support, but his son a cripple by birth had an accident when he lost the first joints of all four fingers on his right hand in a straw cutter; he was taken into the Volksturm. Our nearest relative, Uncle Josef, was well over 75 years of age and his farm some 5 kilometers away from us had to manage his farm with his two daughters. His two sons from his first marriage were already killed in military service during the War.
In the last days of the War
From February till May 1945 was the worst time for me working on the farm.
While bringing the cows into the stable or taking them out into a paddock, on many occasions I was spotted by English fighter planes and had to dig for cover. I was chased by German army officers and forced to accept their weapons and told that I had to shoot any foreign enemy military person. I was too frightened to answer anything, yes or no. I simply froze and waited until they were gone, then hid the rifle and the explosive given me in the nearest bush in the trench and ran home to hide in the cellar for a while until the military had
changed their positions. In the meantime Mum and my two younger brothers kept looking through the windows to see what was going on in the district. Some army officers were persistent in going on with the War, whether they were afraid of the brown shirts (NAZI) or whether the brown shirts were afraid of the officers was dig three Infantry trenches on our farm to their specifications. They demanded that I should dig trenches, moving three cubic meters of dirt per hour for the German army. Those requests I completed just two days before the first American armed vehicle appeared in our district. We had the surrendering white flag already hanging out of the top story farmhouse window. I saw the heavy camouflaged truck driving slowly in the bottom of the valley on the dirt road. No shots were fired and I took Mum's camera, sneaked out of the stable and took a long-range photo of that vehicle.
The officers in charge in our district had cornered me many times; they got me to dig three Infantry trenches on our farm to their specifications. They
demanded that I should dig trenches, moving three cubic meters of dirt per hour for the German army. Those requests I completed just two days before the first American armed vehicle appeared in our district. We had the surrendering white flag already hanging out of the top story farmhouse window. I saw the heavy camouflaged truck driving slowly in the bottom of the valley on the dirt road. No shots were fired and I took Mum's camera, sneaked out of the stable and took a long-range photo of that vehicle. I dropped the camera back in the kitchen and ran out, grabbed the shovel and started to fill in all three trenches. In each trench were machine guns and grenades left behind by the German soldiers and some dangerous military pieces I had put there to be out of harms way.
"Baumhof" our farm land in Germany in the last days of World War II.
American Troops arriving, April 1945.
As I was working as fast as I could to fill in those trenches the foot patrol soldiers fired onto me with their machine guns. Afterwards I figured out that those soldiers most likely belonged to that vehicle which just had passed through. The bullets missed me over the head by a few centimetres. Frightened by the noise, I threw myself on the ground and the firing stopped. Then I crawled inside the farmhouse and ran into our cellar. Mum and my two brothers already had taken shelter. We all cried and did not know what was coming next.
After a while somebody was banging on our front door and calling out in a strange voice. He did not give up calling and repeated the banging on the door.
Mum decided that she would go and see. As she opened the door there was a bunch of American Negro soldiers standing with loaded rifles, asking in a very complicated language, whether any men were in the buildings and kept asking Mum, call all persons to come here. Mum called us to come up out of the cellar.
Then one soldier stood guard over us and told us to stay put while the others checked the house, barns and stable. We did not eat that day or sleep the next night and luckily the animals were all inside in the stable. Germany surrendered on 8 May 1945. But our district did not become safe.
It became very restless and unsafe because all the army training camps in Wipperfuerth had been used as War prison camps, their gates were opened and the War prisoners were set free. There was no food for them to eat. Wipperfuerth, including its surrounding district, like many other regions in Germany plunged into a post War period of hunger and misery. As the War prisoners slowly found their way home to their country of origin, Germany became divided into east and west. The Berlin wall was in progress to be built and Wipperfuerth and its district had to accept an influx of more than one million people from East Germany, many of them were refugees who had lost their rights to their country of origin. All rooms were counted and we had to share two people to a room regardless of the conditions of the room.
The crowded conditions continued until the late 1950’s. In a confusion of identity justice fell short for some of Hitler’s regime associates. The doors were left open in Europe at some Catholic Convents and monasteries for shelter where some of Hitler’s associates had taken the opportunity in sheltering so they could travel to other countries in the world for their own safety and escape the punishment for their crime.
In the first year, summer and autumn after World War II it became chaos on our farm and in our farming district in Germany. Food was strictly on ration, as the government authorities handed out coupons. We had no farmhand people left in our district to help us out in harvesting our potato crop. A retired painter, Lutheran by religion from Remscheid, a man well over 65 who had been storing his household belongings on our farm during the War years voluntarily offered and gave us a hand in harvesting our crop. But the Catholic nuns were the first people to call for 100 kilos of potatoes to be handed over to them as they had spent a few hours with my father in his last days saying prayers before he died.
Mum handed over the two 50 kilo bags of potatoes, which we had to deliver as well. The Nun came back thanking us for our deed; she sat down on the edge of our old potato field took her rosary out of her pocket and said some payers. I asked my Mum for whom is she praying this time. My Mum gave me a very hard smack on my backside. It took me many decades to learn and understand the doctrine and philosophy of religion. Ever since I have been asking myself over the differences of religion and the powers it can have over people and for what reasons.