Posts Tagged ‘World War Two’

TWO BROTHERS

Eberhard and Werner Helwig are two brothers living on opposite sides of the world.  They write to each other with birthday and Christmas greetings. Werner lost Minna when she was eighty years of age, but is not alone. He shares the family home with Richard and Rosel, their daughter Patricia and her two young children.

Eberhard and I share our home with visiting friends and family members, several seasonal backpackers, plus Willing Workers on Organic Farms - the wwoofers who help me maintain the garden.

At Christmas they exchanged these photographs.

Werner Helwig at Wolferborn

Eberhard Helwig with a granddaughter at Glen Aplin

Life is about choices.  Due to ill health at the end of World War Two Werner was lucky when he was taken in by Minna’s family in Wolferborn. He married Minna, who inherited the family farm land and village home. Being an educated man, Werner not only managed their property prudently, but was frequently sought out by other villagers for advice. They reared two children, Richard and Margot. They have three grandchildren and several great-grandchildren.

As revealed in The Forgotten Ones, Eberhard chose to leave Germany and immigrate to Brisbane, Australia in 1950. Two years later he married Elizabeth, the daughter of the German architect who supervised the construction of the Housing Commission homes at Zillmere. Eberhard went on to gain further qualifications which qualified him to become the site manager of commercial structures like hospitals and department stores. After the construction of the Myers Department Store in Toowoomba Eberhard moved his family to the city. He and Elizabeth had two children, Christine and Andreas. They now have four grandchildren and two great-granddaughters.  Elizabeth chose to end the marriage in 1974.

I met Eberhard in 1986 and we were married in 1988. We visited Germany in the spring of 1990 and again in the winter of 1997. In 1992 we purchased our property at Glen Aplin and established Das Helwig Haus B&B. We closed this business two years ago and have retired on site. I wrote an account of our way of life operating a hospitality business in a wine tourism district in my published book Wildflowers, wilderness and wine.

I continue to write about the Granite Belt and our way of life on http://fayhelwig.com

Enjoy!

Wildflowers, wilderness and wine

CHAPTER THIRTEEN concludes.

We awoke to the sound of rain pelting against the window of our hotel room. In a desultory manner we ate our breakfast, hoping the sun would break through the clouds, but it wasn’t to be.  This was the day that we had planned to take a short scenic train trip further up into the mountain and then walk for about two hours to view the Trummelbach Falls.  I was looking forward to hiking along a mountain trail photographing the closer mountains covered with evergreen forests and the mountain peaks  in the distance glistening with snow. It was not to be. When the downpour eased to a drizzle we shrugged into our rain coats and we set out to walk along the shores of the Brienzersee.

Lake Briensz-Panoramio photo by Vicenc Vila

The walk was good exercise, but frequent showers drifted across the lake and we soon decided to return to Interlaken. Yet what could we do other than look in shop windows? We decided to make it a rest day and spend much of the day in our room.

This quiet time allowed Eberhard to continue sharing his account of his experiences during the final months of World War Two.

“I remember that we had one really big celebration at Wiesbaden. It was the night that we were promoted to the rank of Fahenjunker Unteroffizier. We were invited to the Warrant Officers’ Mess where we feasted on good food and drank champagne. Everyone toasted everyone else and it was unthinkable not to drink a toast.”

“Did all the candidates pass their examinations?”

“No. A few, less than ten, failed their tests. The Wehrmacht insisted on maintaining their previous high standards, come what may. We all staggered off to our quarters after midnight with at least two bottles of champagne under our arms.”

“Drunk?”

“Yes indeed. But instead of drinking coffee the next morning, we opened the extra bottles and kept on drinking.”

“The hair of the dog that bit you,” I laughed.

“It wasn’t a laughing matter. We were in disgrace!”

“Why?”

“At the 8 o’clock parade we were berated for leaving one hell of a mess all the way to our quarters. We were informed that we could overcome this shame if we cleaned the grounds. By 12 o’clock every bit of broken glass and vomit had disappeared from the road and garden strips and we were all sober.”

Seven years later, in 1997, Eberhard and I had the opportunity to visit Wiesbaden.

The vines grown along the Rhine, Ahr and Moselle Rivers now make the Rhineland-Palatinate the largest wine-growing region in Germany. Roman rulers resided in the 2000 year-old city of Trier on the Moselle River in the fourth century and also left their mark on the city of Wiesbaden.

When planning this trip, Eberhard had told me that Wiesbaden was situated across river and to the north of Mainz, now the State capital, which was once an important medieval trading centre on the trans-alpine route across the Brenner Pass. The district benefits from its situation on the southern slopes of the Taunus Mountains. This position ensures exposure to sufficient sunlight to produce the necessary sugar in the grapes.

Wiesbaden kurhalle & fountain

The snow was thick on the ground and the fountains were iced over when I photographed the famous baths of Wiesbaden, where the Romans had once enjoyed their thermal heat.

“We were transferred from Wiesbaden to the Offizier’s Akademie at Weilburg, which is a picturesque town on the Lahn River west of Giessen. The academy was positioned high on the side of a ridge overlooking the town.”

“What did your training entail?”

“The emphasis was on every gunnery system in the German infantry and artillery. I had always been a good shot and at Weilburg enjoyed great success with the anti-tank guns. The Americans had crossed the Rhine River on March 7. Our training exercises often became impossible as allied dive-bombers roamed the German skies from morning to night. Only rainy weather kept them away.”

“Was Weilburg a target.”

“Sure. The town was an important railway change point from east to west in Germany. The town lay in a steep valley below our academy. At the time I was baffled, wondering why our establishment was never bombed, yet the railway station was a daily target.”

“I remember one particular sunny morning when a group of us were marching towards the railway station. Our destination was a neighbouring town where we had volunteered to give blood at an army hospital. We boarded the train, but quickly scrambled out again when the engine shunted into a nearby tunnel.”

Eisenbahntunnel in Weilburg a. d. Lahn - Panoramio photo by FSup

“It was safe, but you weren’t!”

“Yes. The driver had received a warning that enemy aircraft were approaching. We dispersed, running up the opposite side of the hill. From there, I could see the dive bombers coming towards us.”

“Could you take shelter?”

“Three of us hammered on the back door of a house, hoping to get shelter in the basement, but nobody came.”

Time would have stood still in those panic stricken moments as the young soldiers realised they were exposed on the open hillside.

“I expected to die! I saw the Mustang circle towards us, high up the hill and release three bombs, which came straight towards us, parallel to the hill. They whooshed over the house and exploded two hundred metres behind us, ripping up more railway track.  A close call.”

“Did you make it to the hospital?”

“Eventually. My blood was transfused directly from my arm into the arm of a wounded soldier. My reward was two dry biscuits and a cup of coffee. No more trains ran that day, obliging us to march back to Weilburg. I didn’t feel the best after giving half a litre of blood. Strafing aircraft frequently forced us to jump into ditches. This delayed us until we had cover of darkness. We didn’t arrive back at the academy until very late that night and I believe our commanding officer had given us up for dead.”

“I talked to the commander and asked him why we had no anti-aircraft defence? In reply, he offered me a chance to shoot down a few enemy planes. The next morning we mounted a heavy machine-gun on a high-level tripod at the western side of the academy with a clear field of vision across the Weilburg valley.”

“Did you have to wait long?”

“No. Promptly at nine o’clock the first six dive bombers arrived from the west.”

“Sounds like they thought they were flying with impunity.”

“By that time they were! They roamed over the whole countryside and shot at anything that moved, but never at our academy. Years later, I discovered that the Allies had already selected certain establishments for their use as army camps after the war.”

“So that was the explanation. Did you bring any planes down?”

“No. But our machine gun restricted those pilots as they flew in to attack the railway station and we could see them dodging our bullets.”

Steinerne Brücke in Weilburg a. d. Lahn Panoramio photo by FSup

“I found life in the academy bearable because I contacted the cook on my arrival. I offered him my tobacco rations with the proviso that late in the evenings I could enter the kitchen to bake a few noodles or make Bratkartoffeln – potatoes fried in a pan until crisp.”

“Where did you get your supplies?”

“With a few friends, I visited local farmers and bought potatoes, bacon and eggs, which we cooked when the opportunity presented.”

“That was enterprising.”

“Sometimes we were disturbed by air-raid sirens. We only got caught once by an officer. He had heard an unexpected noise from the kitchen. At the time, we were supposed to be outside in the trenches.

“I had been seconded to the anti-tank company within our battalion, because my superiors thought my knowledge of weaponry was excellent. A platoon was formed and instructed in the use of the Panzerfaust – fist against tanks. They were highly accurate and destructive hand held bazookas and whenever they found their target the tank had no chance of survival.”

Plainly the young soldier saw this transfer as recognition of his artillery skills, evident since that first school competition at Bad Swalbach when his Idstein team were awarded medals.

“The members of our platoon were issued with bicycles with special holding straps to carry two bazookas – one each on the left and right of the centre bar, plus two on the rear carrier. We still had our old army rifles, very similar to the 303 and of the same calibre, which we strapped across our backs. I thought we were a disgraceful sight traversing the countryside.”

Eberhard’s eye for the ridiculous marred his enjoyment of recognition within the battalion. Just as he had detested the shabby uniforms, he resented the incongruous picture of a bazooka platoon mounted on bicycles to confront a tank column.

“I had no time to register my disgust.  Out of the blue the order came!  We must march towards the Rhine – the whole assembly of the Offizier’s Akademie.” Eberhard’s voice evoked the drama of the moment. “We left Weilburg within twenty-four hours, marching out into the dark of the night, tramping through the forests that thickly cover the Taunus Mountains.” Eberhard paused, the silence giving impact to his words. “This was no normal battalion of soldiers, for we were a thoroughly trained battalion of young officers all approaching our commissioning as Lieutenants.”

My skin tingled with a momentary sense of exhilaration, imagining the sight of this magnificent band of young men courageous in the face of their destiny. Each youth was in peak physical condition, trained to march with precision, fanatically determined to follow orders to fight to the death to protect his Fatherland.

To be continued.

Wildflowers, wilderness and wine

The annual remembrance of Armistice Day, 11th November 1918 has just been observed throughout the Allied countries. Here on the Granite Belt of Queensland, Australia this is a poignant occasion, as 500 hundred men who had served in the Flanders battlefields of France were settled on land here to grow apples in 1920.

The story is told of their settlement here in Fay’s book Wildflowers, wilderness and wine. http://www.australia-book.com.au Overseas readers may obtain Wildflowers, wilderness and wine on http://stores.lulu.com/strictlyliterary

Why Eberhard and Fay ploughed a small field in front of their home and established a Remembrance Field of Flanders poppies timed to bloom for 11th November is recounted in Fay’s blog about her life on the Granite Belt of southern Queensland, Australia http://fayhelwig.com

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Our route by train was to take us to Frankfurt to Mannheim to Heidelberg to Karlsruhe along the Rhine River down to Basel and finally Zurich in Switzerland.

Saarland map

I saw this as an opportunity for Eberhard to tell me more about his earlier years in Germany.

“The Saarland, which borders on France and Luxembourg, was the smallest state in the Federal Republic of Germany. Like the Ruhr region, it has borne the imprint of the coal and steel industries for generations, but today it is the location of one of the most modern automobile plants in Europe.”

The political development of the Saarland reflects the vicissitudes of twentieth century German history: After the First World War the Saarland was claimed by France, but placed under the control of the League of Nations. France nevertheless retained considerable political influence and important economic privileges. The coal mines, for instance, passed into French possession. In a 1935 plebiscite the people of the Saarland voted to reintegrate the region into the German Reich, which repurchased the mines.

After World War Two, in 1947 the Saarland was constituted as an autonomous territory in economic union with France. In 1956 France agreed to the integration of the region into the Federal Republic of Germany. That assent was a milestone on the road towards Franco-German understanding.

Near Saarbrucken - Panoramio photo by Thomas Röhl

“The date of my transfer to Saargemund still sticks in my mind. It was July 19, 1944.  Our train never reached Saargemund that day. It was halted twenty kilometres from the town.”

I am intrigued. Eberhard seems to think I should understand the significance of the date. “What was the problem?”

“We sat on this train for three days in the middle of nowhere, being strafed by enemy planes. Finally, we heard rumours of an unsuccessful assassination attempt on Hitler.”

“The Wolf’s Lair plot?”

“Yes, the von Stauffenberg conspiracy. From that day, the soldier’s salute with the hand on the cap was changed to the salute of Heil Hitler, performed with a straight out arm thrust. Every soldier of rank was obliged to become a member of the National Sozialistige Deutsche Arbeiter Partei.”

“You told me you had never been a member!”

“That’s right. Previously I had declined to become a member of the Partei, and for the remainder of the war I continued to refuse to join the Partei.”

“How did you get away with it?”

“I neither filled out my forms, nor returned them. My best friend, who had been with me throughout my boarding school years, saw fit in joining the Partei. He proudly stuck a membership badge on his tunic pocket.”

“Thinking back today, I can say I became a competent soldier, but I never agreed with policies of the Partei.”

“As you’ve said. You were disgusted with shoddy treatment your mother received.”

“True. Also, I never saw the validity of the Russian campaign, although that was something I couldn’t discuss with anyone.”

“What about jokes – could you laugh about Hitler in private?”

“Only if you told the joke behind your hand to a trusted friend.”

“Do you remember any?”

“Well, someone might be telling a story about the Fuhrer and when they were about to say his name, throw their hand over their mouth and exclaim, ‘Ah Shit!’ A pretence that they had forgotten his name.”

“Any others?”

“A favourite came from a well known comedian, who apparently asked what he should do with a picture of Hitler. His question was, ‘Will I hang him, or should I stand him against the wall?’ These were simple jokes, easily remembered, that allowed many people to express their scorn for a leader they didn’t respect.”

Chemin à proximité de Sarreguemines Panoramio photo by Les Argonautes

Eberhard warmed to his narrative.  “During those three days when our train was stationary, we spent much of our time under constant attack from Allied dive bombers. The Allies had the habit of flying at right angles to a train and shooting up the main engine and immobilising the train in this way.”

“A troop train was a logical target.”

“They didn’t only target troop trains. Every so often they saw fit in flying along the railway line and machine gunning the passenger carriages.”

“Deliberately shooting at civilians?”

“Yes. Hitler had declared total war. He asserted that all Germans were in the service of their country. The amount of civilians killed in air raids was horrendous. I saw sights on those shot-up trains that I’ll never forget.” Eberhard studies my face.

I can’t hold his gaze. I look away to avoid the pain revealed in his eyes.

“Fay, the carnage of war still haunts my dreams.”

“Was it the bombing strategy of the Allies to kill all the inhabitants and reduce Cologne, Dresden and Hamburg to rubble?”

“The allies were attempting to destroy the morale of the civilian population, particularly the factory workers.”

“Did it work?”

“No, but the loss of life was immense. I understand seventy-five thousand German children alone were killed by indiscriminate bombing. Day after day, night after night the bombing continued. It’s said that a thousand civilians died every day. I can remember lying in shelter watching hundreds of planes fly overhead – like a never ending cloud.”

“When eventually we arrived at our new camp, our commanding officer confirmed the news that there had been an assassination attempt on Hitler and how miraculously the Fuhrer had survived it. According to rumour, two thirds of all the soldiers inside Germany and occupied countries were deliberately stranded on the train system to make them inoperative.”

“Did Hitler fear an army coup?”

“Yes. By that time many of the Generals realised that we could never win the war and were desirous of an honourable peace. The Western front was crumbling and the Russians were pouring in from the East.”

“So, the Generals had concluded that Hitler must go?”

“Yes. We young fellows were still blindly patriotic never thinking we Germans could lose the war.  Even so, we surmised that there must have been many more people involved in this assassination attempt than the dozen we were told had paid dearly with their lives. I learned after the war that about five thousand people were executed because of that conspiracy.”

My map showed that after Mannheim our train would cross the Neckar River. The train then took a route between the steep bank of the Rhine River and the Black Forest as we veered west towards Switzerland.

I knew that Eberhard frequently referred to Mannheim as his home town, because Heinrich Helwig, his grandfather, had owned a block of apartments in the centre of the old town, overlooking the town square. Due to its proximity with the industrial town of Ludwigshafen on the other side of the river, both cities had been heavily bombed during the war years. Unlike some of the other bombed cities of Germany, Mannheim was never rebuilt to resemble its former glory.

“I was so disappointed when I returned there after the war. It was just ugly with concrete.”

For this reason, Eberhard had not wished to spend time showing me Mannheim.

Eberhard's old map of Mannheim

Family photographs show a strong physical resemblance between Eberhard and his grandfather which became more pronounced as Eberhard reached manhood. Sadly Heinrich Helwig disowned his son Erwin Helwig due to his profligate ways and in so doing, refused to acknowledge any of Erwin’s sons.

Grandfather Helwig as a young man

When Eberhard visited with his grandmother in Mannheim he was obliged to tiptoe past his Grandfather’s office to avoid disturbing the old man. Heinrich Helwig died of a heart attack after being knocked down on the street by a man on a bicycle on New Year’s Eve 1935.

Eberhard remembered his grandmother fondly. He had spent school holidays with her and she had continued to provide advice after the death of his mother until she too died in  his third year at Idstein Teacher Training College.

Eberhard in the Hitler Youth uniform

The Neckar is a 367 km (228 mi) long river , mainly flowing through the southwestern state of  Baden-Württemberg, but also a short section through Hesse in Germany.  The Neckar is a major right tributary of the Rhine River.  Rising in the Black Forest near Villingen-Schwenningen at a height of 706 m (2,316 ft) above sea level,  it drops to (at 95 m (312 ft) above sea level.

After passing Heidelberg, the Neckar River discharges its water into the Rhine River, which makes the Neckar its 4th largest tributary, and the 10th largest river in Germany.

The name Neckar was derived from Nicarus and Neccarus from Celtic Nikros, meaning wild water or wild fellow. Since about 1100, Black Forest wood was transported by down river to Holland via timber rafts for use in shipyards.

The railway made it possible to transport timber to the port of Heilbronn, limiting timber rafting to the lower part of the Neckar after 1899. Thanks to the construction of 11 locks, ships up to 1500t could travel to Heilbronn in 1935.

Nor did Eberhard and I stop at Heidelberg during that 1992 holiday. It would be the winter of 1997 before we visited that marvellous city. I was wearing heavy duty treking boots, which I had bought in Germany in 1990. These proved totally unsuitable for the snowy winter of 1997. The wide cleats quickly filled with ice, so instead of providing grip as Eberhard led me up the steep side path to the walled garden beside the castle, I was slipping dangerously. Eberhard hauled me up the incline and we made the decision to get me insulated, winter tread boots before we continued our journey the next day.

Heidelberg Castle January 1997

From this walled garden we could view the castle  and walk through the extensive gardens heavily covered with fresh snow.

Everywhere there were professional photographers at work capturing views of the snowy scene. Heidelberg hadn’t seen such heavy snow for fifty years. Now all the winter postcards would need to be updated.

Heidelberg January 1997

Also from this vantage point we could look down on the snow covered roofs of the city.

Eberhard told me that Heidelberg had been spared any bombing by the Allies during the war as the Americans had always planned to use the city as their US headquarters within Germany.

Only one bridge was damaged when a pilot dropped a bomb on it.

To be continued

Wildflowers, wilderness and wine

Fay’s book Wildflowers, wilderness and wine was published by Strictlyliterary in 2009. It is available for Australian readers on http://www.australia-book.com.au

Fay also writes weekly about the district, the Granite Belt, where she and Eberhard established Das Helwig Haus in 1992 after returning from Germany. It was the gardens of Germany which inspired Fay to create of a tremendous organic garden around their home featuring many plants of the northern hemisphere. You can read about their present lifestyle on http://fayhelwig.com