MY YEAR IN GERMANY

The troop ship SS Washington had thrown off the moorings and began to slip slowly away from the dock at the Brooklyn Navy Yard.  I stood at the stern and contemplated where I would land if I took a flying leap.  Yes, I’m really on my way to Germany!  No turning back now.  For better or worse I had committed to a two year contract with Army Special Services, and the Washington, loaded with 1000 women and children would take me there.

It was the middle of May, 1952, and we were headed for Bremerhaven, Germany, and thence to all parts of the American Occupied Zone.  Nineteen of the 1000 on board were, like me, Special Service girls.  Once in Nurnberg we would be assigned to Army Service clubs throughout Bavaria, which pretty much covered the entire American Zone of occupation.  In 1952 the peace treaty had not yet been finalized and Germany was split four ways with the Russians occupying the Eastern zone, the British the Northern, France the Western and the US the Southern.

The crossing was unusually rough, and before we reached England forty foot waves kept most of us in our bunks, stacked three high, and I had a middle bunk.  In the dining room,   if one was able to brave it, our food trays would slide about a foot as the ship rocked (unless one was careful to hold on to it).  Stabilizers that hold modern ships steady in storms were not available in the Washington.  One dependent lady went into labor with the ship’s roughness, and a helicopter from England was able to hover over the ship and hoist her aboard.  The next day we were in Southampton, England.

The chaplain who had prevailed upon the Special Service girls for help in entertaining and supervising the many children aboard rewarded some of us by escorting us ashore, although the Captain had announced that no one was to leave the ship.  We had tea at a tearoom, did some window shopping and even visited a department store. (Here I first learned that to Europeans what we call the first floor is the ground floor, and the first floor is what we called the 2nd)  Next day the ship docked at Bremerhaven.

How did I happen to go there?

I first learned about Army Special Service in California.  I went there in June, 1950 to visit my sister Grace and her husband, Harvey Testa.  I worked three months at the Ensign Carburetor Factory, assisting in the Engineering and Time Study department.  Then I was hired to teach sixth grade at Centennial Middle School, in Norwalk.  I lived with Grace and Harvey and when they moved into a new house in Downey, I found transportation with a fellow teacher for the five mile ride to school.  On Saturdays I enrolled in a graduate class at USC, and took buses and trolleys to attend.  One day recruiters were there taking applications for Army Special Service.  I submitted to an interview, and they had me on the word “travel”.

I returned home to Alabama at the end of the school year, but soon after had a letter offering me  a tour of duty in Japan.  When I discussed it with my parents they were horrified.  I decided at the last minute not to go, and got a job teaching Physical Education at Gadsden, AlabamaJunior High.for the coming year.  Not that I knew that until the first day of classes: I was interviewed and hired by the Gadsden Superintendent to teach English and Social Studies (my majors) but someone with more pull than I switched the assignments.  So now I, who had been excused from college gym classes until my Junior year because of a heart murmur, then pronounced by my doctor ‘fit’at age 19, I had to take two years of P.E. classes in the last three semesters of college. 

At the Junior High I had every class doing 15 minutes of calisthenics, and if I stopped, they stopped.  Also, my girls played championship softball, and were so fiercely competitive that all I needed to do was stand and watch.   On rainy days we joined the boys, and the male P.E. teacher was a great square dance caller, so we square danced.  I walked a mile each way to school, and with all that exercise and activity at the end of the year I had lost inches, but not pounds.  I was in the best physical condition of my life, and when the Army sent a letter in April offering me Germany, I decided to go.  Mama said I had the ‘itchiest’ feet of any girl she ever saw, and Papa said, “Kate, there are 5,000,000 single women in Germany.  You’ll never get a husband!” (But Mama also said she would not sleep a wink while I was gone.)

After a thorough physical exam, lots of shots, and two weeks training at Fort Benjamin Harrison in Indiana we had a free week-end..  At that time Johnny was stationed in Rantoul, Illinois, just across the state line.  I called him to see if we could get together, and he immediately invited me over.  He explained that his girl friend, Betty Brown, lived in Danville near by, and she would be happy to have me stay with her.    So I hopped on a bus, and pretty soon was met by Johnny and Betty.  Except for the fact that she seemed to talk baby talk to Johnny I liked her very much.  She was a tall slim blond.  Her mother, a widow, was exceptionally nice, and I could tell that she liked Johnny. (They were married before I got back to the states) We had a lovely weekend, except for one thing:  I lost my billfold!  It didn’t have a lot of money in it but it had my shot record.  When I got back to the base I had to repeat all those shots, and the smallpox vaccination which didn’t take the first, did now, and I had a very sore arm for the crossing.

We had been issued uniforms in Indiana: 2  two piece suits (blue, no brass, plain buttons) , a cap (one always wears the cap when outside), a trench coat in olive drab, and we had also been instructed to buy two or more plain white shirts, with reversible collar. Also to buy low or medium heel closed toe oxfords or pumps (navy blue), and to bring one or two evening dresses.  Before boarding the train in uniform our sleeve patches had to be attached (to suits, trench coat and to caps) An Army bus met our train in New York and took us a to the Henry Hudson Hotel, and I was assigned to a room with Virginia Uncovic We had two days of sight-seeing in New York which included a tour through China Town, and all the major Manhattan sights.  That night we went to the Copocabana Night Club, where Lena Horn was the featured vocalist. (I think it was Cab Calloway’s band) It was a brief, but lovely visit to the big town, then it was time we boarded the SS Washington.

We were finally here!  We boarded a train in Bremerhaven, and then changed trains in the middle of the night in Cologne, battling the language barrier for the first time. (We were told to go to the “J” car, but the conductor pronounced it ‘yuh’ and it took a  while to figure out what letter of the alphabet  that was..

  By morning we were checking in to the Grand Hotel in Nurnberg before being rushed off for orientation.   We met the Col. In charge of Special Services, and the ‘higher-up’ civilian employees at the Palace of Justice, where just months earlier the Nurnberg War Trials were held.  We even sat in that courtroom.  Afterward an American civilian man rushed up to me, saying, “Ruby, It’s so good to see you…let’s get together” Now that was the worst pick-up line ever, because no one ever called me “Ruby”.  (We talked later.  He was from Salisbury, N.C., buyer for the local PX, and was able to special-order shoes for me in size 91/2 AAA, but I can’t remember his name)

My bunk mate Virginia Uncovic was sent to Schwabish Gmund in the Black Forest.  Eleanor Holman went to Augsburg, Jeanne Ebbighausen went to Wurzburg and I was assigned to the Americana Service Club, right in downtown Nurnberg, across from the Grand Hotel.  I was billeted at “Girls Town” the female quarters for all American civilian workers.  The address was Dreisehnprizregentenuferstrasse. (13 Prince Regent Street).  It was just a short trolley ride to the club, and the Grand Hotel where we took most of our meals.

First Holiday, first mountain trip

After orientation on Thursday we were to report to our assigned clubs,  but Memorial Day weekend was upon us, and we had until Monday to start work.  So Jeanie, Ellie and I decided to take an over-night sleeper to Bertresgarden. (Their clubs were in the Nurnberg area)  Train travel was still free, but the Pullman berth cost a dollar.  We stopped in Munich and visited the Hof-Brau House, then traveled on into the Alps.  Our hotel was on a lake surrounded by mountains, and the high-light of the trip was taking a cog train up to the Eagle’s Nest, Hitler’s hideout.  The final assent is by elevator whose path had been hewn through solid rock.  Himmler’s home is also on the mountain top.  The view was astounding.  What a fantastic first weekend in Germany!  I returned there with the family group in ’77, and it had not changed. (It was in Bertresgaden that we learned that Elvis Presley had died)

The Americana Club was in a building which was actually a part of the walled city, with one of the four old-town towers across the street, the train station across form that.  With most of Nurnberg lying in ruins, these structures, and St Marta’s Kirk next door, were only slightly damaged.  The four towers, it was said, stood because they were not put together with cement, but just stones fitting together. The center of Nurnberg was practically leveled. Whole blocks were nothing but rubble.  Women and a few men were already working at cleaning and stacking brick which could be salvaged from the bomb sites.  Seven years after the fighting stopped, Germany was only beginning reconstruction.  Churches were gutted, and some leveled.  It still looked like a war zone.  It was said that the intense bombing was to destroy ball bearing factories which were located there.  Returning there in 1976 with Cathy, two sisters and two nieces it was surprising for me to see how well the town had been rebuilt, using the same style, probably the same material, so that one could hardly tell which was new.

The German Mark was exchanged at the rate of 4.2 to the dollar, so goods on the German economy were cheap to us. (The dollar today is worth .73 cents to the Euro, which Germany now uses).  The German language I learned mostly had to do with trade, dining, and travel.  Wie Fiel meant ‘how much?  Mach snell meant ‘hurry’.  Wo ist der zug nach (city)___?   Meant ‘Where is the train to ___?  And all the ‘w’s’ were pronounced as “v”.

I wish I had learned more of the language.

As Junior member of the six-woman team at the Americana Club, I was assigned duties no one else wanted at the beginning.  I was to be travel director, tour guide, monthly report writer, and at the same time join with all the other girls in calling bingo, checking out pool equipment, joining in card games, setting up tournaments of various kinds, pouring coffee and serving doughnuts.  With one other girl I was in charge of reviewing and scheduling floor shows for our once a month Big Show.  For half a day we sat and watched act after act of dancers, acrobats, dish spinners, singers, comedians and magicians. They each had a going rate, and we had a budgeted amount of money to spend, so we had to choose what we liked and could afford.

 In order to conduct the Saturday Walking Tour of the city I had to learn my way around town: a little of the city’s history and what happened to it in the war, (Most of the bombing on Nurnberg happened on one night, January 25, 1944, and was prompted by its being the center of Germany’s ball bearing industry- and unfortunately many of the old town’s churches and land-marks were also hit) the castle, the Albrecht Durer House, the city museum, (with its many medieval torture devices) the home of the brothers Grimm.  Those were the main points of interest within the walled city.  Those plus a few statues here and there that had escaped bombing.  Usually I had about a dozen G.I.’s following me around.  As travel director I was in charge of keeping a shelf full of travel pamphlets available for G.I.’s going on leave.  It was mostly a lot of fun.  I didn’t even mind doing the monthly program reports, and Peggy, the club Director, said I made it sound so good she wished she had been there!  (She was, of course)

 Special Service Colonel Todd was a man much detested by some, but he was from Alabama, and he liked me.   As integration of the Armed Forces was just getting under way he came to the club one day to ask Betty Province (from Chattanooga) and me if we were going to be all right with it!  One of the other Recreational Specialists was black.  She was Mildred Jackson from Jacksonville, Florida, and one of very few people I knew who had a car.  I humiliated myself one hot day that summer, when I came into the office and said. “Whew! It’s so hot! I’m sweating like a nigger at election”. I looked up and saw Jackie and both of us sat with our mouth’s open for a minute. Then she started to laugh, and I apologized.  It was a phrase I had heard all my life, but most inappropriate and thoughtless of me.  Jackie became a stalwart friend.

The staff consisted of Peggy, Director (MN), Jackie, Ass’t Dir.(FL) and four Program Directors: Betty(TN) Shirley (CN), Fran (VA) and me(AL).  We also had two German Secretaries, Margo and Ilsa Hyde, who was married to a nere-do-well American who was supposed to be an Artist. (I never saw any of his work) Her father was a Doctor.

The club also had a six-piece band, which played American music several nights a week. We sometimes had celebrity performers who graced us with their presence: I had the ‘honor ‘of calling Eddie Fisher to the phone.  It was a little bit cheap of me to say, “Is there a Cpl. Fisher in the house?”  The soldiers often brought their German girl-friends there to dance.  On Friday nights we had square dancing and western music party.  There was a library in conjunction with our club, and Jeanie the Librarian was a friend, but she was not part of our staff.  A Chaplain held services in the library on Sundays, and sometimes other days.  Mostly I attended services at the church next door, St. Marta’s Kirk which was the main Protestant service. (Chaplain Olson there happened to be Episcopalian.)

Weekends and holidays were our busiest times, and we were expected to work through holidays, but those days could be taken as compensatory time in conjunction with our regular two days off each week, so if you had two Compensatory days you could take a four day holiday, which we often did, without taking annual leave. Betty Province was off to Italy, and when she returned she brought me an appliquéd shawl, and a leather book cover.  Most of the girls who had been there  several months, or even years, had already traveled throughout Europe.  I didn’t make a list: I wanted to go everywhere!  It was possible to go to Berlin, but special permission was required because  one traveled through the Russian Zone.

I jumped at the chance when Virginia called and asked me to accompany her on a journey.

My first big trip was to Belgium.  Virginia Uncovic, my ship mate, invited me to go with her and two friends, one of whom had a car.  No gas stations peppered the highways, so her trunk had to be filled with jerry cans of gasoline, enough for the whole trip.  It didn’t leave space for suitcases, so we traveled very light.  The trip took us through Luxembourg, through the city of Aaken, (a famous battle field) and on to Brussels.  It was a beautiful city, not nearly as damaged as most of the German cities.  We were impressed with the lighted highway around Brussels, so bright that we were asked to turn off the car lights, even at night! We had time for one museum, in Antwerp,  but it had to be a short four-day trip, so we were back to work soon.  (Virginia was the first of the nineteen girls I went over with to get married.  She was wed before Christmas!)

Assignment switches were common and pretty soon Gloria Enokian joined our club roster.  Gloria was Armenian, Orthodox Catholic, already of dark complexion, she was constantly sunbathing.  She lived on yogurt, nuts and fruit, she was quite beautiful, and became one of my very best friends.  She was from Fresno, CA. and had been a social worker. (Most of the Special Service girls had been either teachers or social workers) Gloria lived across the hall from me in Girl’s Town.  She was the most sought-after girl in the club, but rarely dated.

After Labor Day I again was able to take off for four days, but there was no one available to go with me.  I couldn’t wait to go to Switzerland, so I decided to just go alone.  From the railway station in Zurich I was able to find a Bed and Breakfast nearby.  I took a tour, visited a few churches, bought chocolate, and had dinner alone in a squeaky clean restaurant, alone. I did a lot of window shopping, strolled by the lake, took pictures, and had a fairly enjoyable time, but not as much fun as it would have been with a companion.  When I got to the train station I tried out my small amount of German and said, “Woe ist der zug nach Nurnberg?”  The stationmaster evidently understood me, and answered, “Bahnstag sepsehn” (17) but I thought he said “bahnstag sexsehn” (16) and that was the train I boarded.

A really cute American G.I. sat across from me, and when he was ready to get off the train in Stuttgart, he tried to persuade me to get off and he would take me out to dinner.  Oh, no, I couldn’t do that, so I stayed on the train, reading a book, until several hours later the train stopped, and a cleaning crew came through the car.  

“Vas ist los? “ The kind gentleman took me by the hand and led me to a map.  We were in a northern German town called Lauda.  No trains to Nurnberg on the schedule, but with hand motions, lots of jabbering I finally understood that I could get a train to Wurzberg, and that was in the right direction.

In Wurzberg, late at night, there was at least an RTO (Railway Transportation Office) operated by the army.  The sergeant there informed me there were no more trains to Nurnberg tonight. There were no hotels available because of a wine-makers convention, but he made a few calls, put me in a jeep and took me to the nearest army base, where I spent the rest of the night in the VIP quarters.  Lucky for me there were no visiting Generals that night.  In the morning I was able to continue on to Nurnberg.

In October Jean Ebbighausen contacted me because she wanted someone to go with her to Paris!  Everyone wanted to get to Paris, especially me.  I had to take some annual leave for this trip, but of course I wanted to go, and was so happy to be able to arrange the time off. 

Before I went to Zurich I bought a Zeis Icon camera, which took great pictures.  I couldn’t wait to photograph Paris.  We made reservations at the Hotel Palais d’Orsey, and got our tickets.  We would be traveling on the Orient Express!  It travels from Paris to Istanbul  and has a stop in Nurnberg.  I found that I loved traveling by train, and it wasn’t too difficult to take pictures out the window.  There were few stops, because this was an express train, and we arrived in Paris at the Gare de Nord.  We knew little about the metro trains, so we took a cab to our hotel.  We could not have been happier.  The room was o.k., but the view was spectacular. We were in a corner room, with windows on two sides. Out one window we could see the Eiffel Tower, and out the other, far in the distance, we saw SecurCour, a beautiful white church on a hill in the Montmarte district. We were in a fantastic location.  With four full days in Paris, we savored every minute.

We couldn’t wait to go to the Louvre, and set out by foot.  Then we decided to be brave and try a bus.  We had a map book, and were following it closely.  When the bus arrived         I was trailing behind Jeanie waiting to board, then noticed that one had to board in the rear.  I called to her, but she didn’t hear me, and the bus took off with me on it, and Jeanie running like crazy trying to follow.  It crossed the Seine River, and I got off at the next stop, retraced our route and met Jeanie in tears on the river bridge.  She was so unnerved we had to stop at an outdoor cafe and regroup.  We decided to wait until the next day for the museum, and continued walking, recognizing landmark places as we went.  There was The Red Mill, (Moulon Rouge)there were artists painting on sidewalks everywhere, and pretty soon we were at that beautiful white church on the hill, Secur Coeur.  We watched a wedding party come out, pose for pictures and drive away in a carriage.  A whole group, four or five, young men came out of the church speaking English, so somehow we were able to stop them for conversation.  Unfortunately they were all on their way to Rome, priests in training! (But there was nothing about their attire to give that away).

What was I thinking? I had come out on this trek in heels!  Not  very high heels, just low heel pumps, but this was a situation that called for athletic shoes, and my feet were killing me.  We had walked about five miles, but at least we were able to figure out the map for the metro (train) to get back where we started.  I don’t remember dinner, but we slept well that night.

Since the Eiffel Tower was closer we set out for it the next day, stopping along the way to admire the sights.  Certain ladies on the boulevard had their hair dyed in strange pastel colors.  Many of them were leading poodles, with their coats dyed to match !  We saw the Bastille, Concorde place, the Arch of Triumph and by lunch we were at the Eiffel Tower.  We took the elevator up, but Jeanie was afraid of heights, and hugged the wall.  On the second level up there is a restaurant, and how cool would it be to eat there?  We did, but were quite indignant that the waiter didn’t bring our salad… until we were just ready to pay the bill and go.  Who knew that the French eat salad AFTER the main course?

The view from the Eiffel Tower is spectacular.  It was a clear October day, and many trees were changing color.  It was a wonderful time to be in Paris.

That night we decided to live it up and take a night club tour.  It included Foleys Begere, with a lot of high kicking girls danced topless, then another club where the show was even a little more risqué, with adagio dancers.  We felt that we had become the height of sophistication!   But we still hadn’t seen the Louvre.

We made it.  Next day we got an early start and visited the most talked about museum in the world, the Louvre.  There was room after room of famous paintings.  One could follow the development of art through the centuries.  The two things I remember best are the Mona Lisa, with her enigmatic smile, and the sculpture , Winged Victory, (with a missing arm)

We saw more of Paris on a bus tour, which took us all the way out to Versailles, several miles from Paris. The grounds of Versailles are vast, well manicured and spectacular.  Inside we could image Marie Antoinette and Louis staging their many costume balls and lavish dinners.  Most impressive was the Hall of Mirrors, where the peace treaty of the first world war was signed.

I really can’t remember where we got them, but everywhere we went we found stickers with the name of the city or country, and plastered them on our suitcases.  Even a battered old suitcase got admiring glances if  it was covered with exotic names.  Mine was getting there.  By the time I returned stateside it was covered.

Seventh Army Headquarters was in Stuttgart, and the Seventh Army Band was famous  among the troops.  Whenever there was a parade or some important army function they were there to play.  Such was the case several times that summer, and somewhere along the line a clean-cut young soldier came up the stairs into the club, and yelled out, “Where is Catherine Tankersley?”.  I was there, and so indicated.  He opened his arms and yelled “Cousin!”  His name was Jim Tankersley and he was from Illinois, and he played French Horn in the Seventh Army Band..  Each time thereafter when they came to Nurnberg he asked me to go out with him, but there was always a reason why I couldn’t, until late October, when he appeared again, and I agreed to have dinner with him.

We went to a restaurant called The Flying Dutchman, and were served an excellent meal, with wine accompaniment.  A band played, and although the dance floor was pretty crowded, mostly with US soldiers and German girls, but a sprinkling of Americans and quite a few German couples.  It was a rather large place.  When the check came  Jim squirmed a bit, looked sheepish, and said, “I guess they don’t take (American) Script, do they?”  Well, of course they didn’t It was a German restaurant/ nightclub.  I hesitated a moment, then said. “I think I have twenty Marks or so”.  So of course he ‘borrowed’ it, saying he would pay me back tomorrow.

And of course this is where another story comes in:

It was there, at the restaurant 'Fliegender Hollander'- the flying Dutchman, that George Cinnamon and another Lieutenant went for dinner on Halloween night, 1952.  They had just spent six weeks in the field on maneuvers. The two spent much of their evening trying to decide whether a certain young lady, with a corporal from the 7th Army Band, was American or German. When they exited the restaurant and found the corporal and his date unsuccessfully trying to get a taxi, and offered their assistance, they found out.

Part 2       THE YEAR I SPENT IN GERMANY

It was the very next day after my somewhat aborted date with “cousin” Jim –whom I never saw again - that George Cinnamon showed up at the Americana Service Club.  He explained that he was Executive Officer of the 70th Armored Field Division, and their day room was completely out  of ping-pong balls: could we possibly supply, or at least loan them?   And although several girls were working that day, he singled me out for the request.  How did he know I would be working? I have no idea, but it was my job to find him ping-pong balls, and as it was time for my break, I walked out with him. 

He inquired  whether I got in safely before curfew last night, etc…By the way, he said, his friend Archie was taking my friend Betty Provence to a football game at Soldier’s Field, and would I like to come along on a double date?   That sounded safe enough so I said yes.

Our army had renamed the stadium Soldiers Field, but to the Germans it was the parade ground where Hitler came to make his important political speeches.  Now all the swastikas were removed ,goal posts installed and the field marked off for football.

When the evening was over and Betty and I were back in girl’s town, she asked me if I had enjoyed the evening and what I thought of George Cinnamon.  It had been great fun, with constant jokes and laughter, and I said, facetiously, “I liked him:  I think I’ll marry him!

Indeed there were lots of dinner dates and outings, and even a foursome trip to Garmisch with Archie and Jeanie the librarian (she also was a good friend, and she had a car.)  The guys called her “Jeanie with the light brown Taunus”.  Although I had been to the mountains before, neither Jeanie nor I had been to this area, and with snow covering everything it was lovely.  We went  into the mountains  to ski: my first and only time on skis, and I quickly found out my ankles wouldn’t take much of it.  Meanwhile the guys were off on a different course, having a great time.  The mountain top had one restaurant, but by the time we went in to eat their only entrée was Macaroni and Cheese, but it was the best I have ever eaten!

Not too long afterward we all planned a trip to Vienna, but the 70th was on field exercises again, and three lieutenants delegated me to get travelers checks for them .  It resulted in me having to sign them and dole out their money when they requested in Vienna.

What a beautiful town. Right away we saw jeeps traveling around with four flags, and four M.P. –one from each of the four occupying countries.  Whereas  Germany was divided in to four zones, Austria was occupied jointly by the four nations.

We all took  a guided tour, saw the Hapsburg castle, the Vienna Woods, with memorials and tombs of several composers.  On Saturday night George asked me if I would like to go to the Stats Opera if we could get tickets.  He talked to his hotel concierge, who seemed quite excited that he was able, at the last minute, to get the tickets for us.  We presented them at the box office and were handed over to a guide to escort us to our balcony seats. When we entered a private box we noticed quite a lot of attention coming our way: We were in the Royal Box!  (If no statesman had requested it, it was sold at the last minute) What we enjoyed was  The Gypsy Baron,  a Strauss Operetta.

On Sunday we all congregated in the lobby for another excursion, this time to a nearby church to hear a concert by the Vienna Choir Boys.  Later we boarded a train for our return to Nurnberg, our group filling a compartment.  A few miles outside Vienna the train stopped and a whole company of Russian Soldiers boarded, heading for the Russian zone, where they would guard their border with the U.S. Army district.  I was carrying a Time Magazine, which had Stalin on the cover (he had died)). That attracted their attention and they kept their noses to the class enclosure of our compartment, making us all very nervous.  I hid my camera above the seats, because I had taken some pictures of them loading; but in Nurnberg I forgot about it.  No more Zeiss-Icon.

Christmas was upon us, and we were working overtime.  On Christmas Eve, after the club closed at ten, George was there to take me to a Christmas party at the home of  Colonel Boone, whose daughter Dani was a friend of mine, but she was also engaged to George’s roommate.  It had snowed earlier, and then cleared, so that a full moon made the countryside almost like daytime.  Several people I knew were there, including  Chaplain Olson, pastor of St Marta’s Kirk which we both attended.  When we returned to girlstown and sat a few minutes in the parlor, George brought out two gifts for me.  One was a bottle of perfume, Nuit de Noel, and the other was a Royal Copenhagen figurine of mother and child.  I was overwhelmed, and embarrassed that I had nothing for him.  We sat and talked for a hour or more, about his family, about my family, about our faith, our hopes for the future… the serious stuff.  He even allowed that it was his hope that our futures would be together, but first he had to explain that he planned to try to get into the Air Force.  Lateral transfers were not allowed, so he would have to take a discharge and then enlist in the Air Force.   Sooo O.K, I got it.  This wasn’t going anywhere after all, not right away, anyhow.   So we came to a mutual agreement that we’d stop seeing each other regularly, and see how things worked out ‘down the road’.

Next morning he called me early, waking me up to say, “You know what we talked about last night?  Forget it, and have dinner with me tonight.  After that  he was ready to call it an engagement, but I insisted on a “think about it” period. (What if he changed his mind again?)

From January 7th to the beginning of Lent  Germany  celebrates Fasching….continual party time.  People will celebrate in costume at various carnival community events and individual parties. Carnival parades abound, it is literally the weekend for people to live it up. Perhaps they ignored Fasching during wartime, but by 1953 the partying was in full swing.  GI’s took to the tradition. From the Thursday before lent through Monday (Rosenmontag) the partying is continuous, and feasting seemed to always involve a roast pig with an apple in its mouth!

George saw an ad for a seven day tour in Algeria, flying from Bern Switzerland, and we both decided to take leave a join it. We took a train overnight to Bern, where the rest of the group met at a hotel, then we all went by bus across the border to Mulhouse , France to get our Air France flight.  In the airport there were congregated many French soldiers returning from unsuccessful fighting in Viet  Nam!

My flight experience at that time was quite limited, but I had never been on a plane that put linen napkins on the tray table, and served two kinds of wine for dinner!.  In Algiers I shared a hotel room with another Special Service girl, but George and I did all our sight-seeing together.  A twelve year old boy with some English adopted us right away, he said in order to keep us safe from the pan-handlers.  Anyhow, we followed him to the Marketplace in Old Algiers (as the song says),where I bought a silver bracelet, to tour the Pasteur Institute, and to see a few other landmarks.

Next day we loaded a tour bus to go across the Atlas mountains into the Sahara, to an Oasis called BouSaada. We stopped in the mountains at a place called the Monkey Jungle, the guide gave a strange whistle and all at once we were encircled by monkeys swinging downs from rocks and trees all around us.  It was a bit frightening.

The tour was made up of American GI’s and Special Service girls, and three Belgians.  The guide spoke French with no problem, and would talk to them ten minutes in French, then turn to us and say,” It’s a mosque” or something almost as abbreviated to explain where we were.  But we were quite content to enjoy the views, and in Bou Saada the group was divided between two hotels, Americans in one, Belgians in the other.  An unusual cold snap had hit the desert, and the hotel’s only heating system was an open brazier in the lobby.  Along with a few natives, we hugged it.  Getting fed there was an experience, and we never really knew what we were eating, but no one got sick.  A trip to a mosque/school, a visit to a small store, and an evening devoted to belly-dancers for entertainment were the main attractions.  After the show was over and a man came around asking for more money to see them dance in the nude, we departed, with my roommate saying she was sick!  One day George and I decided to venture on a camel ride. Which was quite an experience, with the camel almost throwing me off as he arose from his kneeling position?

We got back to Bern with barely enough money between all of us to get hotel rooms and breakfast, before getting the train back to Nurnberg. (After we collected our combined monies George approached the lady manager showed her what we had, and asked what she could do for us.  She was most accommodating)

I was sent on temporary duty to Schwabach, an army base  maybe twenty miles from Nurnberg, and accessible by train.  It was a smaller club, with only three Special Service personnel.   The three of us lived in a house, took turns with cooking, with the help of a German maid who did our shopping, and a little man who kept out stoves stocked with coal and did the maintenance. (I hardly got used to his coming into my bedroom to stoke the fire very morning) while I was still in bed) Mostly we ate out – but Schwabach had few restaurants.  My colleagues there were friendly, but I never got to know them as well as the ones at the Americana in Nurnberg. On my days off I always returned to Nurnberg, where my room in Girlstown was still reserved for me.  On one of those trips I joined Gloria and Jackie for an excursion to Coburg. Luckily, Jackie had a Chevy, so we didn’t have to take the train.

We toured Coburg Castle, which was the family home of Victoria’s Prince Albert.  One room in the castle was called the Luther Zimmer (room).  It was where Martin Luther spent a year in exile after he tacked up his message on the church door, which started the Reformation.  He did most of his writing in that room during his year there.

We also toured the factory which made Hummel dolls, and my love affair with Hummel began.  If any figurine came out with a flaw it was broken, discarded. Evidently the nun who drew the Hummel figures was a native there.

We also went to the border, the place that marked the separation of the American and Russian  Zones.  A fifty yard no-man’s-land separated the two, with guards huts and guards always in attendants.

George came up to Schwabach one day when I least expected, and brought an engagement  ring!  Before he left Oklahoma City he and his mom were downtown window shopping after a movie, and in a jewelry store he pointed ot a set of rings: “That’s what I want to buy for my bride”, he reminded his mother in a letter, and asked her to buy them and send them to him.  This time I accepted.

His roommate Tony Harrelson and Dani Boone were getting married on Valentine’s day, and  we were both to be attendants.  It was a beautiful ceremony, with bridesmaids in long blue velvet Elizabethan style gowns, carrying a white muff with a red rose pinned on it.  (I returned to the same dressmaker for my wedding gown a little later). Their reception was in Stein Castle, a real fairytale wedding.

Word spread quickly of our engagement, and George’s intention to return to the states and join the Air Force.  A hastily arranged bridal shower with my friends, and all the Nurnberg Special Service teem it seemed, brought more gifts than I had any right to expect, most of them lingerie. After a couple of glasses of champagne one of the girls confided that her roommate had said why was that cute Lieutenant Cinnamon marrying such a mousy girl!  But since all my friends thought that was hilarious, I didn’t take offense.

Getting married was not much of a problem when a G.I. married a German girls, but when two Americans wanted to marry, it was a different story.  Birth certificates, permission of commanding officers, letters of character reference from three Chaplains… then George had to hand carry it all to Seventh Army Headquarters for permission. Even so, we were required to be married by the German Tax collector before we could have a church wedding.

I invited all my friends, George invited his Battalion friends, and we engaged  St Marta’s Church for the ceremony. Eleanor Holman was my one attendant, Lt. Trefrey was best man.  Chaplain Olson performed the ceremony.

I had told my friends I didn’t see how we could have a reception, because I had only one hundred dollars to spend on it.  Gloria Enochian said leave it to her.  She arranged to have it at George’s BOQ, with his company cook volunteering to make the wedding cake, and she arranged for linens, flowers, all the trimmings. (The beautiful three layered cake was delivered in a two ton army truck). George wanted to be responsible for my flowers, and when they arrived there were FOUR DOZEN yellow roses!  Gloria came to my rescue again, trimmed them down to a manageable bouquet with enough left over for table decorations at the reception.  Rehearsal was quite simple, with the Chaplain leading me down the aisle, followed by Ellie, to meet George and Tref at the altar.

But when I entered the church it was crammed full of people!  Most of them were German, and elderly ladies on the front pews looked to be crying!  Boy, I thought, Germans sure like a wedding!  It was twenty years later that a friend from those days visited in Florida and said, “I really remember your wedding well.  It was the day they found and unexploded bomb across the street from the church, closed down all businesses and everyone took refuge in the church!”

We were taking a train to Garmisch for a honeymoon, but just before we were to leave for the station someone slipped handcuffs on George and the best man, telling us he was going with us.  At he station someone presented the key, t the nervous guys seemed not to be able to work them.  Finally the Col stepped in and calmly released my husband!

Since George had been stationed at Fusen, a camp near Garmisch, he knew the country well, and we visited Oberrammergau (where the Passion play is presented every ten years)and other historic sites.  On one excursion we came upon an artist hard at work painting the zugspitz, Germany’s highest mountain, which we viewed also from our hotel room.  We followed him back to his studio and George bought me two paintings forTake care, wedding gifts.

Back in Nurnberg we could not apply for base housing because George never knew when his request for release would come through, so we lived at the Grand Hotel, then for the last month in Germany we were sent to Baden Baden to await our turn for a flight home.  Just before our June flight I found out I was pregnant!

Our return flight was aboard a Northwest Airline plane, a prop driven plane, which landed in Shannon Ireland, Rekjavik Iceland, somewhere in Maine, then New York. The flight took twenty-four hours.  After each fuel stop  we had a new crew and each time we were served breakfast.  The plane was crammed with returning service families, and we seemed to be the only couple with no children.  Needless to say, the air was constantly filled with the crying children.

Three days in New York, with George traveling to Ft Dix, New Jersey with separation papers, and then we boarded a train for Alabama. My family welcomed George (Donald and Jo made a big display of being hicks to begin with) I stayed a few extra days after George left for Oklahoma to find us an apartment and look for a temporary job.

            This last part may need some editing, but here it  is……..

Love to all.