From the Land of Westphalia to the Shores of the Pacific

It was time to say goodbye.

Saying goodbye to my working companion was not too hard.  One of them let it be known that I was pretty stupid wasting 850 Deutsch Marks on a trip across the ocean, where I could have bought an electric sewing machine for that money.

Some of the neighbors came to the house to say goodbye. One neighbor had made potato pancakes, my favorite dish. I could not get them down; they stuck in my throat.

 Two sisters had become mothers a couple of months ago, and their babies were so cute.  My big brother tried to help me with everything like he had always done while my father fought in the war. My father kept saying, “I wish I could give you my knowledge of the English language.”  My mother, on the other hand, was just quiet.

Time came to put my few belongings into the wooden box (no suit case), among them a crucifix, which I had received from my god father at my first communion and a picture of the Virgin Mary.  All was safe in the box. My large leather purse held my tickets and a little extra money tucked away.  My clothes for the next morning were hanging on the closet door.  All was ready and I went to bed, trying to keep from sobbing.

The next day, this was it.  I shook hands with my father, sister, brother and my mom, (hugging and kissing openly was not done in Northern Germany).  All of us cried inside but tried to hide it.  My girlfriend had arrived, and the two of us took off.  About a block down the street I turned around and saw my mother clinging to the garden post.  I believe it was the most intense pain I ever experienced.

We boarded the bus filled with students and commuters. We transferred onto the train which took us to Cuxhaven.  There were all kinds of people, some crying.  I said goodbye to my girlfriend and walked on to the ship.  I found my cabin and learned the upper berth was mine.  My wooden box was already there.

I walked back on deck. The ship pulled away from the pier.  All of us stood at the railing looking back until land was out of sight.  It was May 6, 1956.

By now it was almost dinner time.  I had not lost my appetite.  Pork roast and gravy, red cabbage and potatoes were being served.

People at the table were friendly.  I actually enjoyed myself until I became violently ill.  I believed I was seasick, but the steward insisted on calling the doctor.  Dr.Wesselhoeft examined me and informed me that I had an acute appendicitis infection and that I needed to be operated on at once.  When I woke up I found myself in the ship’s hospital. All this happened before we had reached Le Havre and Southampton.

Actually, I felt pretty good.  I had never been fussed over so much before.  After a couple of days I was transferred to a first class cabin where I had my own poster bed.  The captain came to visit, and so did other passengers on board. My, did I fit the description of a green horn.  I could not speak a word of English but was not worried.  Ignorance was bliss.

The sea was rough and the sandbag on my wound would move every time the ship rolled from side to side or back and forth.