As I travel down memory lane and allow my mind to wander through the past events, what strikes me as probably the most inspiring and lasting impression of my stay at Berchtesgaden , would be the people that I made contact with from January ’66-Early April ’67. As I ponder those days gone by, I look into my reflection and I see nothing but greatness within all that I encountered. From the medics, the ski patrol, life guards, Chaplin’s, all military staff, those wonderful and colorful ski bums, the MPs ( I was one of them), German employees and last but not least the inhabitants of Berchtesdagen itself. Those were the lasting impressions and treasured memories.
Where does one start to bring the ship back on course. In writing of that time in my life from 66-67, my mind is like a down hill racer. Grab a beer, don your bundhosen, crease the bird shit hat, unlace the hiking boots and hopefully this will entice and warm your memories as well.
“..As you stand in a stream of water … it will move on….”---Indian prayer
At this point, a few things that I think might be missing from all the written postings, timeline contributions etc etc are images and reflections that were/are important to me. If I should be wrong or missed some of the key elements, I must have been drunk. I am adding information as I recall it And for those that were there during my time, I hope you readers may fill in some of the missing pieces.
Yes, I saw and appreciated the tailor that worked in the basement of Strub Kaserne. What a kind person. And he appreciated the Commissary coffee I gave him from time to time. The German workers who had meals in the Kantine over the EM Club at Strub as well. The German Dr. at the clinic with the scars on his face. He removed a wart from my arm and a cyst from my ear. I think he came in 2nd place on the Saber dance. Herr Michael Mueller, who was the putzfrau at the Hdqtrs and MP station. What a gentlemen. He was a guard at some location during the war as some location near the ‘Gaden. I visited him and his family, after his retirement, near Schaffhausen Falls in Sept ’66 on a swing by on a return leave trip from France. He lived in a military building between the Berchtesgadner Hof and the theater. He told me that right after the war ended, that it was sort of like starving time for him and his wife. So he donned his Bavarian outfit and posed for photos and the $$$$$ poured in from occupying troops of Berchtesgaden. He stated that is how he survived. One other person of special note was our interpreter at the MP station, Kurt Engler. When I returned to B’Gaden in July ’99 with my soon to be wife, I looked him up and had quite a visit. His take in particular, on the absence of the American forces and how it had impacted the area. And now the influx of as he put it, so many Eastern European tourists. Not that he was disgruntled, but the quality and absence of manners and their attitude. He and his wife own a dress shop. Now located near the four seasons restaurant. I inquired where I could buy some bundhosen. He laughed and said that they were no longer in style or available. I was so disappointed, but in some way he had a few remaining in stock. And they fit!!!! My last pair had to be pitched I think about 1975. we managed to do a lot of catching up and rehashing the old days, but as he said….To much change. Not enough thought by the local planners. As we sat at a gasthaus sidewalk and I looked out into the distance, I could hear the voices and the nameless faces of those that I had lifted so many .5ml of beer with. Beer (bier) a four letter word. That in itself brought back a thought of my return to the states in June ’67. I had my first beer with my dad, while family finalized my return an hour or so later. I damn near choked on that whatever it was I was drinking. I have since brewed my own German style from which I take up every now and then. Never could drink state beer since Germany. And have since toned down that consumption as well. Wondering if it was the 17 liters at the Octboerfest in ’66. hummmmmmmm.
At the sidewalk I looked to the Watzmann, the Untersburg and finally to the Eagles nest. And I remember thinking back to the time in May of 1945, when my Uncle, a member of the 101st made that final trek up to Obersalzburg and the Nest in the sky. To this day he will not talk about any of his WWII experiences, other than one time I did get him going a bit. And that was about B’Gaden. He made the jump on June 6 and survived all the campaigns without a scratch ----- One of the lucky ones ---Until he was riding one of Goering’s horses and got clipped by a deuce and ½ near the bahnhof I believe. Took nearly a year of recuperation in a Belgian hospital before he was able to go home. Still crippled to this day.
As I go about this narrative, I am reminded that somewhere in this house, I have a list of people in a notebook with names and not current addresses. Will list them later and who knows what will pop out of the Lamp if rubbed just the right way.
When I first arrived for duty as an MP, I had a rude awakening, as