guest post

Walter Panknin (1898 – 1977) and His Family Ch7 Part 21

/ Peter Klopp / 6 Comments

Biene writes:

Rescue in the Knick of Time

 Time seems to stand still like in a bad dream.  Increasing panic is gripping my heart when I look at my brother’s white horrified face.  I keep on stammering in my heart,  “Please, God help us, please, dear God help us….”.   Almost paralyzed by augmenting fear we suddenly see a big motorboat approaching. Almost instantly our fear turns into joy.  Help is on the way!!!!   But our relief and joy are short-lived.  The big motorized yacht moves by us at great speed without stopping.  Didn’t they see us?  The waves are high and our overturned boat is blue.  They must have missed us. This time our desperation is almost overwhelming.   What shall we do?  What can we do?

Numbed by cold and fear I am unable to make a decision. I am worried about my brother who looks ghastly white and is very quiet.  After what seems like an eternity, we see another (or is it the same?} boat approaching from the direction it had vanished.  A small flicker of hope revives us enough to start screaming at the top of our lungs for help. The big boat slowly approaches and then starts circling us. It stops!  Two men climb down a ladder and grab our hands to pull us out of the water onto the deck. Two ladies wrap us in blankets and help us move into a cozy cabin to warm up and rest while the two men manage to retrieve our boat from the lake. Our rescuers were American tourists who had not seen us in the water initially.  One of the men, however, had spotted our paddle floating on the water.  This miraculously prompted their search for us.  Apparently, we were hardly visible in the high waves and they had almost missed us again.

Luckily our parents only found out about our near drowning after we were rescued and safely returned to them. Contrary to our expectations our father did not scold us or get upset over the loss of equipment and damage to the boat.  He loved adventures and was happy and proud that we survived. He commended us for staying with the boat and not trying to swim ashore.

Walter, Biene’s twin brother, built this model sailing ship.

Walter Panknin (1898 – 1977) and His Family Ch7 Part 20

/ Peter Klopp / 6 Comments

A Perilous Sailing Adventure

Sailing Adventure Part 2

In no time we reached the middle of the lake.  “Strange”,  I suddenly thought,  “there are no other boats here. Why do they  keep on sailing parallel to shore?”  I tried to gently shift my weight to look back to our now distant beach. Suddenly there was a strong gust of wind billowing our sails.  My brother frantically tried to maneuver the sails.  “Sit on the edge of the boat, quick! ” he commanded sternly looking worried.  Although I had reservations, I did not dare to voice an objection. I quickly lifted myself up to sit on the narrow rim of the boat,  when the wind shifted again without warning. Then everything happened like in slow motion.

I see the look of horror on my brother’s face while I am gently tilted backwards into the water with the white fluttering sails tipping in my direction. I am sinking deep down into the cold water.  When I finally surface I see my brother beside the capsized boat looking shocked and angry.  My first reaction is a fit of hysterical laughter.  “What happened?” I stupidly ask while trying to catch my breath.  It all seems so unreal.  “Stop laughing!” my brother yells holding on to the overturned boat. When he tells me to cry for help I am racked by another fit of laughter.  “Why don’t you?” I manage to reply.  “We’ll swim to shore”,  I suggest.  I am a strong swimmer with lots of stamina. Almost beside himself, my brother shouts back, “Never!!! We must stay with the boat”  Slowly I am regaining my sanity.  I am looking around trying to assess the situation.  We are in the middle of the lake far from either shore.  The waves are high. The water is churned up and cold.  We don’t have life vests. No boats are in sight except the sailing boats looking like miniature toys in the distance.  Suddenly panic seizes me.

Our desperate attempts to right the boat fail.  The weight of the water-logged sails is beyond our strength.  One of our paddles floats away on the waves.  My brother does not allow me to retrieve it.  We continue to cling to the boat bobbing in the waves, occasionally crying out for help which we realize is useless.  Nobody can hear us. 

To be continued …

Walter Panknin (1898 – 1977) and His Family Ch7 Part 19

/ Peter Klopp / 11 Comments

A Klepper Folding Boat with Sails

Sailing Adventure Part 1

Biene writes:

My brother was a bit disappointed that he had not been able to go sailing yet. However, that was to change on the first weekend.   On a beautiful Sunday morning, Walter and I went to the beach very early. Our parents had gone on a short excursion by themselves.  I was absorbed by my novel when my brother suddenly called me.  Looking up from my book, I noticed lots of boats sailing gracefully close to shore on the white-capped lake. Sitting in a secluded and sheltered spot, I had been protected from the wind.  

Twin Brother Walter Relaxing in the “Sailboat”

“Biene, do you see all those sailboats?”  my brother shouted excitedly. “Let’s go and try ours.” Suddenly, a cool breeze blew through my hair.  It wasn’t very often that my brother invited me to participate in his fun activities.  I quickly grabbed my towel, wrapped it around my book, and followed him to the water where our boat was anchored.

Walter expertly got everything ready for our first sailing adventure. To try it out,  we first sailed fairly close to shore like the real sailboats in the distance.  It was exhilarating to speed effortlessly through the waves.  My brother felt like a captain in command.  He would tell me to shift my weight occasionally from side to side. I obediently followed his commands.  Normally, we would argue about everything.  But I had never sailed before.   Imperceptibly, the wind was getting stronger and the waves higher.  We were ecstatic!  This was fun!   Lots of other boats were sailing ahead of us along the coastline.  Suddenly, my brother suggested, “Why don’t we try to cross the lake?  We have never been to the other side.  At this speed, we’ll be there in no time.”   I had no objections. I loved adventures and was curious to explore the other shore.

To be continued …

Walter Panknin (1898 – 1977) and His Family Ch6 Part 17

/ Peter Klopp / 10 Comments

Biene’s High School in Velbert

Biene wrote this post.

 Life was school, and school was life for me in those days.  Everything revolved around school. Every morning, except on Sundays, school started strictly at 8:00 a:m. and the big portal with the stained glass motto “Not for School but for Life”  was locked by the caretaker.   If you were late, you had to ring a bell.  The custodian would open for you and ceremoniously accompany you to the principal’s office on the school’s top floor.  Frau Lindemann reigned like a queen at her huge shiny mahogany desk.  She was a short, round lady with snow-white hair, bright blue eyes, and red cheeks.  She looked kind, but that was deceiving.  She was a strict disciplinarian.  She would give you a severe reprimand the first time you were late. If you were late three times, you would be suspended.  If you had three suspensions, you would be dismissed from school. We feared Frau Lindemann and would only enter her office with great trepidations.

Our classrooms looked austerely functional. There were giant blackboards on the front and side wall opposite the big windows.  We would sit in neat rows of two side-by-side desks facing the central blackboard in front and the teacher’s workstation. The room was bare of pictures, displays, plants, or decorative items.  There was nothing to distract us. However, we had the most exciting experiences in this dull physical environment.  We would vicariously relive humanity’s quest for scientific knowledge and spiritual truths.  Most of our teachers were passionate about expanding our minds.  They tried to teach us skills to foster critical thinking, problem-solving, and effective oral and written communication.

Walter Panknin (1898 – 1977) and His Family Ch6 Part 4

/ Peter Klopp / 6 Comments

Imagination Run Wild

Biene wrote this Post

Although I missed my best friend in Gotha, I made many new friends. After school, we would play on the large meadows surrounding the buildings. Contrary to our parents, the restricted living area in that small room was not an issue. We had lots of space and freedom to roam on the meadows and green spaces surrounding the barracks.
One day we ventured as a group out of the camp confines to a nearby treed area to play hide-and-seek. It was almost getting dark when one of the kids shouted, “Let’s go back. A dangerous man is trying to catch us!” We raced back to the camp gate with pounding hearts and breathlessly told the attending guard that a dangerous man had pursued us. Although I found out later that none of us had seen this man, we were sure we were telling the truth. In our minds, he existed. I guess this is a small example of mass hysteria. We never ventured into that forest area again.

Putting on a play (Biene with the big hat)


Later I will tell you about our move to the Old House of Rocky Docky in the Rhineland region of Germany. But now, I want to talk a bit more about our experiences in the refugee camp in Aurich, East Frisia. Most children live in the present. I have always liked to live in the present moment to this day. However, writing my blog now forces me to relive the past.

Walter Panknin (1898 – 1977) and His Family Ch6 Part 2

/ Peter Klopp / 11 Comments

First Impressions of the  Sandhorst Refugee Camp

Biene wrote this Post

My mother was distraught after our first night in the crowded dormitory shared with twelve strangers and other strangers passing through our room from the adjacent sickroom.  She feared for our health and well-being due to the proximity of the contagious people who had to pass frequently through our door to visit the facilities or other places in the building.

Mutti Panknin at the Refugee Camp

After my mother voiced her concerns to the management, we were assigned to a small private room furnished with two metal bunk beds, a table with four chairs and a small wardrobe.  Although this room was smaller than my father’s study in Gotha, we felt happy to have more privacy.  We still had to share our door to the hallway with the occupants of the neighbouring room; a young widow and her two children.  Her son was five years older than my brother and me, while her daughter was two years younger than us.  But despite the age difference, we became good friends.

Rainer and Gabi’s mom always looked glamorous. She dressed like a film star.  I knew what film stars looked like from pictures of American actors and actresses in the packages of chewing gum.  I started collecting those pictures when staying with our friends in Dortmund. When I commented on her mom’s clothes to Gabi, she told me her mother’s secret.  Her mom had found a way to contact actors’ fan clubs in the United States.  She would tell them about her plight as a widowed refugee asking for charitable donations.  She would receive big parcels with the most fashionable, expensive outfits, shoes and accessories, often only worn a few times by her idols. Gabi’s brother Rainer went to the Merchant Marine Corps as a cadet after he turned 14 years old and had passed grade 8.   He brought me a beautiful scarf from one of his training sessions in Hamburg, the biggest harbour in Germany.  My mom proudly displayed it on the wall, as you can see in the picture. I admired and adored Rainer.  He would be travelling to many of the places my dad had shown us on the world map.