Stepping Stones

Chapter 1
My Mother’s Story
I was born in Landshut, Germany, on September 25, 1929. My mother’s name was Alice Such, and my daddy was Rufh. I had a baby brother named Joel. I will share some of my memories, beginning when I was about three years of age.
My first real memory was of my father. Even though I was so young, the picture will always be vivid. I remember him sitting in a chair, and I was so comfortable on his lap. He needed to get up, so I popped off his lap. When he stood up, he placed his hand on his head and made a face of anguish, as though something had hit him so hard on the head. I watched him fall straight forward onto the floor in front of me.
I couldn’t understand what was happening, being so young, but I still knew something was dreadfully wrong and began hysterical cries of uncertainty. He lay there lifeless and still as the noonday sun. The picture of that moment—and indeed, it happened in a moment—has been etched in my mind. I can remember it as if it happened moments ago. As little as I was, I knew my daddy was not coming back to life.
* * *
World War II could not have come to a close soon enough for me. My baby brother, Joel, died during WWII from starvation. It feels like it was just yesterday when Joel and I would go into town for food. I rode my bike and pulled Joel on a sled. We would go across a large bridge into the town of Landshut. There we would barter or buy food.
I was alone with my mother until she remarried. Gordon became my stepbrother. Before long, Maria, my half-sister, was born. I felt lonelier than ever with her birth. I felt somewhat neglected. I needed something to love and something to love me back.
Coming back from one of my in-town excursions, I rescued a puppy—a German shepherd full of love. My mother and stepdad said I could not keep him. They could not afford another mouth to feed. Because of WWII, food was being rationed. After I begged and pleaded, they gave me permission to keep him, but it was up to me to find a way to feed him. I loved that dog so much, and he loved me back.
One day, my dog became sick. I told my stepfather that there was something wrong with my dog. After looking the dog over, his verdict was rabies. There was no choice but to kill the dog.
No, no, no, how could this be? My stepdad told me to go get the dog’s leash and lead him to the back of the shed. My stepdad told me to go back to the front of the shed. I felt as if I died when I heard the shot from the gun ring in the air.
* * *
Death seemed to be all around me. Removing Jews was the Nazis’ main agenda. Several times, they came to our house, believing that we were Jews. My mother spat into the man’s face after he stated that they would be back. My mother took us to live underground. Because of the war, I was only able to complete the seventh grade.
I was fourteen years of age and found myself once again headed into town every so often to barter for food. It was not uncommon to hear bombs explode all around me. One time, the bombs were so close that I chose to run. I jumped into a nearby hole that my feet could not quite touch the bottom of. My elbows clung to the sides of the hole and kept me from falling all the way in. There was glass surrounding the hole that cut into my skin. My eyes were fixed upon a woman with a child, and before I could even blink, a bomb took them from my sight.
When would this all end? Will these pictures and memories of horror that have been imbedded in my mind ever be forgotten? My whole life as a child was full of terror, hate, starvation, and blood.
When I was seventeen years of age, my family heard that the war had ended and the Americans had taken the town over. We came out of hiding. After months, Landshut began to be a normal town again. There was much to do and to clean up from all the rubble and destruction. Not hearing bombs, gunfire, and people screaming gave me hope for a new beginning. Normal life returned, but memories of brutality, hate, hunger, and the stench will stay forever etched in my mind.
American men had taken over the city. They were everywhere and became my heroes. I found a deep appreciation for America for bringing hope, rescuing us, and bringing such madness to an end.
At the age of seventeen, I was able to enroll and complete a one-year business school, hoping that some of the skills imparted unto me would lead to a worthwhile life. I had a glimmer of hope for the future.