Out of the Ashes

(Late April 1945.  After fleeing from the advancing Russian Army my younger sister and I found refuge at a boarding school in Droyssig, near Leipzig, southwest of Berlin.  I was 14 years old.  We did not know the fate of our mother and two youngest sisters)

. . . . . So we lived our lives, carefree and selfishly enjoying our good fortune, while our world was quietly, or not so quietly, tumbling around us.  We had the inherent ability of all children to take life as it comes, and to live it to the fullest, regardless of circumstances.  The hard facts of war caught up with us sooner than expected.  One day our principal called us together and informed us that we were moving into the basement in the left wing of the building.  I expected this to be a precaution against possible air raids.  We packed our toothbrushes, combs and a little extra underwear and moved.  The basement had been furnished with bunk beds, tables and chairs and we made ourselves at home.  Books and games had been brought in from our library; things to do to pass the time.  We were here to stay for the duration.  Not until we heard the muffled sounds of gunfire did our teachers tell us the real truth.  We were not preparing for possible air raids but for an attack by the American Army.  Even though the principal played down any danger, she did warn us of a possible tank attack and artillery fire.  She urged us to be calm and to be cooperative, should any foreign soldiers come into our shelter.  My mouth turned dry, as if a ball of cotton had soaked up every bit of moisture in my system.  Apprehension tensed every muscle in my body.  The stories I had heard about our enemies were too horrible to contemplate.  They would offer candy bars laced with razor blades, or poisoned cookies, to German children and watch them die.  My mind was racing, trying to figure out a way to save my sister and myself, to no avail.  We were trapped.

The muffled sounds were coming closer, occasionally a few single explosions could be distinguished from the rest of the noise.  Then an artillery shell hit the building.  It shook only slightly, not nearly as much as I did.  Irmgard was quietly playing with her doll, as if nothing had happened.  She was so much braver than I was, or maybe she did not know as much as I did?  I felt such a coward and it made me angry, but I kept trembling, just the same.  Then it was quiet for a while.  We ate a cold meal and settled down for the night.  The rumbling continued off and on throughout the night and the next day, when it finally came closer and closer.  Numerous hits on the building kept us from sleeping that night.  Some shells landed on the upper floors of our wing, but most hit the front portion of the building.  The shelling stopped again and it was quiet once more.  Not until the following day did we hear the tanks rumble down the street next to our shelter.  I expected soldiers to storm in any minute and take us all prisoner, instead our principal walked in quietly and asked for our attention.  We had been asked to evacuate the building.  It was a perfect site for headquarters for the Americans, the Amis, as we called them.  Plenty of dormitory space for the soldiers, a large enough kitchen to cook for an army and the teachers' rooms made perfect quarters for the officers.

After gathering our few belongings we marched in single file to the front entrance of the building, where a rather nice looking Ami soldier directed us toward the castle, a few hundred yards away.  Crossing the street we were surprised by the sound of more machine gun fire.  It was impossible to tell from where it came or at whom it was directed, so we started running for the safety of the thick walls of the castle.  Once inside we sat around the fireplace in the great hall, waiting for further orders.  Single shots rang out now and again, interrupted by bursts of machine gun fire, but soon all was quiet.  The Amis had won, there was no more German resistance in our little town.

Later that day provisions were brought from the school and mattresses were placed along the walls of the huge main room in the castle.  We made ourselves at home -- one more time.  After supper we settled down for our first night under foreign occupation.  So far it had not been at all as I expected.  The soldiers had not bothered us.  We had not even seen many of them, except a few on tanks as they were rolling through the town.  Then they moved into our school.  Temporarily we were under house arrest, until the commandant could decide what to do with us.  Certainly we were no threat to the Amis, but any large gatherings were forbidden by order of the occupation forces.  So we stayed within the castle grounds for days on end, until the restrictions were lifted and we were free to roam. 

Curiosity won over apprehension; we needed to look our enemy in the face.  Marching down the street toward our school we saw some young, tall, good-looking guys in clean, handsome uniforms, flirt with the kitchen maids from our school.  They were looking out the basement window of OUR school, shamelessly flirting back.  I was appalled.  Those were German girls, consorting with the enemy; it made me almost sick.  Years of propaganda had done i