Dad had gone ahead of us since duty called, and somehow Mom took Sis and I to, I think, New York to catch a flight to Germany. Those were the days of flying when overall safety might not have been as good as it is now due to older technology, but overall comfort was much better. The cabin crew, otherwise known at the time as "stewardess" were nice and very attentive, provided Sis and me with small toys such as coloring books and talked with Mom and us as well as attending to the other passengers' comfort. I have a vague memory, fueled by Mom's telling the story, that at first I did not want the shrimp cocktail that they offered but after tasting Mom's I wanted all I could get. This continues to today.
I remember looking out and seeing how far away the ocean was. I think I slept for a while. Eventually we got to Frankfurt, or perhaps Rhein Main, and there was Dad and an official car to drive us to Ramstein. We were happy to see him, and I can't help but think that even at the tender age of 3 or 4 I must have looked at the German towns and countryside as we drove through it and wondered about this new to me but very old country. To this day, driving around in Germany leaves me with a sense of well-managed age, with the background sounds a bit different, the cool dampness of the land offering a lift to the spirit, and, at least for small construction, the far better German construction codes giving their buildings a sense of permanence that ours will never have. One thing that I do not remember and never asked my Mom was how she felt going back to what had been her second homeland; getting off the plane must have brought up a few concerns and perhaps some memories of a past that had ended only a few years before.
At first we lived in the small town of Ramstein, but I do not recall how long that was nor much about it. There was a gate to our driveway, and nice people around, but that is as far as my memory allows me to travel. Later, we settled into our quarters at Ramstein Air Base. The housing area was, and may still be, apartment buildings of about six units wide by about four units high with basement storage. They were painted in colors that were not quite weak enough to qualify as pastels, and were basically shaped like shoe boxes. There was a playground in the square formed by every four buildings, with sandboxes, swings, and other basic playground equipment. Life for us kids was good. Get up, play, go back home to a loving mother who took excellent care of us and taught us good manners and how to behave. Wait for Dad to come home. We had friends, and I can remember a group of us deciding we wanted to dig all the way to China and spent several days in one sandbox with that fun but futile pursuit. Dad went to work every day, he was an Intelligence Officer and had an office in The Cave. The dependents were allowed to visit the offices once (I only remember once but it could have been once a year). I remember the excitement of going into the area, how good it felt when I saw him, and how fun it was to see where Daddy worked. He showed us his desk, and I noticed the maps and other items that had heavy covers on them. Of course I asked what those where and why they were covered, and he said maps and other things that were secret and so could not be seen.
One of the times that Dad had an exercise he called Mom, and a few moments later Sis and I were being dressed in "nice" clothes and being told in no uncertain terms that Dad was bringing a guest home for dinner and we were to be on our best behavior. Dad arrived, and asked our guest to enter before he did. The man, who was tall and dignified was not that old, and dressed in a German uniform. He entered with a strong stride, and Mom greeted him in German and curtsied. I had never seen anyone do that before. I had no idea that my Mom even knew how to do that. But there was no time to stare, because the guest shook my, and Sis' hands and than it was off to dinner. I do not remember what we had, but I do remember the grown ups talking back and forth with interest and great depth. The conversation continued after dinner until our guest left, with handshakes and good cheer. It was only later, after I had learned some history, that I remembered what my Dad told me about our guest. He said "If there was still a Holy roman Empire, that man would be the Emperor." So I am thinking that he was either von Hapsburg or von Hohenzollern, and truly a nice person from the little time I knew him.
As one would expect, life went on, and not always in a good way for some in our little community. One day Dad came home and told us that one of our neighbors, who's kids we played with, had been killed in an aircraft accident. I asked why he just did not jump out with the parachute, and I was a bit surprised when he said that the plane did not have them, so it might have been a cargo aircraft. Also, one of the base generals was killed when his parachute failed on a training jump, and of course that was a time of sadness too. But overall, those years were pleasant for the Marshall family.
Incidents that stay in mind, despite the years: During our time there they opened a new officer's club on base, and we would have a meal there once in a while. There was a Chinese food restaurant in the basement, and I was surprised that the waiters spoke such good German since Mom talked to them in Deutsch. Mom took us to see movies at the Base Theater a few times, and we saw one movie featuring the hero getting trapped in a room that filled with water. Mom took Sis and me out of there during that scene, answering that we were to young to see stuff like that when we complained, but I think that her fear of being in confined spaces, that started during the war when she was trapped in a building that was bombed, must have kicked in big-time in that scene. Years later I saw the movie on TV, and thought back to a time when life was simpler but in some ways darker. I spent some time at various friends' apartments, and once in a while saw TV, which was something we did not have. The only show I actually remember was when the Beatles came to America and were featured guests on - I think - the Ed Sullivan show. The crowd went crazy, and an era was born. For some days later a bunch of us tried to sing Beatle songs, but my parents, who were great fans of classical music, told me to stop with the noise. I had the first nightmare that I can still vividly recall while there ... of going into the base chapel and looking into a coffin that was on a dais, then falling in. It was no ordinary coffin, because I went straight through the bottom and fell endlessly, past fierce demon heads that snapped at me as I fell, and snakes, and garish colors and things I know not what.
Dad bought a white VW Beatle, with a sunroof, and we traveled around a lot. All over Germany, into France, to Austria. By the time we left Germany we had over 200,000 kilometers on that car. Once in a while, Mom or Dad would bring some C-rations (or maybe K-rations?) when they were sold at the Commissary. Soon after that we would take a drive and have a picnic. It was fun eating real Army food, even if some of the offerings were not as good as others. At that time, there were many circuses in Germany, and we often went to them. I remember bits and pieces of those shows. Clowns, elephants, the big cat shows, acrobats etc. Two incidents that stand out from the many memories of so many excellent acts: First, my parents laughing when a women wearing a fur coat in the front row was sprayed by a tiger (good kitty!), second my Dad telling me that the guy performing the next act was world famous. His name was Unos (spelling unknown) and his skill was to balance on one finger. Mighty impressive indeed. We took road trips, often to camp out in our big blue tent, most weekends when Dad did not have duty or was not studying for his degree in history at the University of Maryland, European division. Getting that degree was one of his proudest moments. The guest speaker was Doctor Arnold Toynbee, one of the greatest historians in history, and while I do not remember a word he said I do remember how much Dad respected him. With his love of education, I'm sure that even back in those days I knew that getting a degree was something that I would have to do. Camping, day trips, going to special places like Johanneskreuz (an inn out in the country), visits to castles, Rothenburg, family. So many good memories of those trips around Germany. We did so much family stuff.
Even though at the time the military was woefully underpaid Sis and I had toys. Perhaps not that many, but we relished those we had. Most of my toy animals had made it from Florida, so I had those, though I missed the giraffe that had been lost. Not that I remember many of the toys, but I do remember the toy chest that we were expected to put them in at the end of the day. It was an old gear chest from Dad's time in the B-36s Mom said. I had Lincoln Logs which I liked a lot even after I stepped on one and cut my eyebrow in the fall (no stitches since I promised not to scratch at it). I also had a police equipment set including a toy gun and handcuffs. The reason I remember this is that I was once considering trading the handcuffs for a toy a friend of mine had, then woke up apparently after dreaming that the deal had been made but realizing that I really liked my toy and asking Mom to check and make sure I had not made the trade. Guess I woke her up to do so. She was not angry at me for responding to a dream, which tells you that she was patient and kind, though she did expect you to do the best that you could. She had a lot of patience for things that were not intentional or avoidable stupidity, and I am lucky to have been her son.
One day Dad came home and he and Mom talked earnestly for a while. I heard bits and pieces, enough to know that something serious was going on. He told her to buy a lot of easily stored food that they would put it in the basement, and that she was to be ready to take us and stay down there if the Soviets came across the border. That must have been in response to the Cuban Missile Crisis, but at the time for us kids it was a bit scary but even moreso exciting. I thought it might be fun to camp out in the basement, but we never did. Eventually that threat passed, and we went on with our pleasant lives. One night we were on a dark road somewhere in the countryside listening to Armed Forces Radio and the announcer came on and said that the President had been assassinated. All was quiet for a while, then Dad said that even though he did not like Kennedy that no one had the right to kill our President.
Eventually I was old enough to go to school, and of course they had one on base. It was a building that seemed large to me at the time, with a lot of people. I took the 1st and 2nd grades there, and honestly do not remember much except one of my teachers being a young woman with brown hair, and falling downstairs once while embedded in a mass of students. The fall may have been helped by a push or more likely an inadvertent bump, as I complained that someone had pushed me after tumbling down, and I ended up visiting the hospital and having the doctor tell my Mom and Dad that I should be fine but if some symptoms occurred to bring me back. On the walks home, my friends and I talked, and sometimes told of the dreaded "Spanking Machine" that was the fate awaiting those who broke the rules. Apparently the evil-doing student was put into the machine, and it would paddle him or her before spitting the now chastised child out to return to class. Like all such stories, we all had heard of someone who had been through the ordeal, but somehow all of our little group had managed to escape the dire punishment.
Those were good days. Of course they came to an end, but were, happily, replaced by more good days. My Dad retired, after 24 years in the service, and like most heroes was forever after ignored by the government he had served. His 15% disability from the scum at the bureaucratic disaster known as the Veterans Administration, after the horrible conditions he had endured as a POW, was an insult. In those times I knew none of this and, as a young child will, simply followed to our next adventure which was living at Wernau am Neckar near good family.
Many years later, when I was constantly going to Germany on temporary duty in the mid 80s to early 90s, I spent a little time at Ramstein. Of course I drove around, reawakened some old memories. I saw the old apartment quarters, they were well maintained and still being used. The theater, the chapel, pretty much everything was as I recalled. I went to the club and had a meal downstairs, I seem to recall that the Chinese restaurant had been replaced. Also, when I took my family to Germany when we were stationed on Crete we took a time driving around there, and of course I tortured them with tales of "back in the day".
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