Biene

Chapter 21 of the P. and G. Klopp Story – Part III

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Storm Clouds on the Horizon

In the meantime Biene had an exciting vacation with her family in Bavaria, often went paddling on Lake Ammer with her parents’ folding boat. She and her twin brother Walter almost drowned, when their boat capsized in a violent storm. They traveled to the German Alps and even took a gondola ride up to the Zugspitze, which is with an altitude of 3000 m the highest mountain in Germany. She returned home filled with wonderful memories. There was so much to tell, but the flow of letters began to ebb. The intervals between them began to widen into two-week gaps. Something must have happened that made me worry. Had my letters lost its fervor? Were the thoughts expressed too philosophical, self-centered, out of touch with reality? I could not tell.

Biene and her father on the Zugspitze 1963

Biene and her father on the Zugspitze 1963

Fall was a beautiful time in Koblenz. The park at the German Corner, located at the confluence the Rivers Moselle and Rhine, was ablaze with brilliant red, yellow and orange colors. There I often sat on a park bench alone away from the noisy inner city and read about the fall and utter destruction of Rome’s rival Carthage in Mommsen’s History of Rome. I was fascinated to discover that the cause of the three Punic wars was the same as of most other conflicts in the history of mankind, namely the desire for economic power and growth at the expense of some other country. I gained important insights into the ways in which imperialistic expansions were intertwined with a general decay of the moral fiber of a nation. I saw so many parallels in our modern world that I contemplated writing a novella on the mighty city on the North African shore, if I could only add and weave in some personal experiences to the story to make it more interesting. These experiences were coming my way faster than expected, and in the end I got more than I had bargained for. Indeed I would have preferred not to write the novella in exchange for the pleasant status quo.

Deutsches Eck in Koblenz, Germany

Deutsches Eck in Koblenz, Germany – Photo Credit: wikipedia.org

I had just settled into the routine of orderly army life with its duties of monthly night watches, sessions of theoretical and practical instructions and the occasional maneuvers, which I enjoyed more and more, because they took place in the great outdoors away from the stuffy barracks in the city. Then a command from the newly formed signal corps at Maxhof in Bavaria went out to all army divisions to provide two truck drivers each. Our crafty commanding officer in Koblenz selected private Gauke and me for the transfer effective October 1st, even though we had no driver’s license for those colossal Mercedes communications trucks. Obviously, he wanted to keep his precious truck drivers for himself. We were told that we would receive professional training and certification that could be very useful later on, when we returned to civilian life. However, it was immediately clear to my that with the transfer to Maxhof, I would lose out on the chance of becoming part of the upcoming officer’s training program. It would upon successful completion raise me to the rank of a lieutenant of the reserve with a much higher pay-out at the end of my two-year term. The wheels had been set in motion. I had no recourse to an appeal process. The decision was final. I was devastated.

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Peter in a contemplative mood at home in Watzenborn-Steinberg

Chapter 19 of the P. and G. Klopp Story – Part III

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From Graduation into Carnival

Wesel 'Berlin Gate' - Photo Credit: wikimedia.org

Wesel ‘Berlin Gate’ – Photo Credit: wikimedia.org

When school continued in the first week in January, I avoided all distractions and focused all my energies on last minute studies. By now the school administration had let us know the subjects and topics, in which we were to receive our oral examinations. For me it was Charles V in History and Calculus in Mathematics. In the remaining four weeks I emptied an entire bottle of vodka, which one could take as evidence for my industriousness. I rarely missed to fulfill my daily work quota. Indeed I would go sometimes overboard and even skip my time for relaxation with guitar or harmonica. One morning I woke up late. I was shocked to discover that I had forgotten to set the alarm clock. School had already started, so I quickly jumped into my clothes, grabbed my books, and without having had breakfast I raced to school in record time and barged into the classroom, where my homeroom and German teacher Herr Aufderhaar had just begun a lesson on German romanticism. Because he was bald and also taught religion, we had given him the nickname ‘Kahler Jesus’, which means Bald Jesus in English. He took one look at me and instead of being angry about my tardiness showed remarkable understanding for my circumstances. He teased me good-naturedly and remarked to the entire class, “Klopp is not just late for class. He did not even shave!”

My Notes on Charles V

My Notes on Charles V

 For the oral exam in History I was well prepared. The main topic that I was given was the era of Reformation with special consideration to the way Emperor Charles V dealt with the schism that threaten to tear apart the Holy Roman Empire of German Nations. I had about thirty minutes to write down a few notes for my presentation. Then when my turn had come and I was led into the somber exam room, I described in poignant details the political struggles of the emperor against France and the Turks and the frustrations he, as a good catholic, experienced with the rapid spread of the protestant revolt against the corrupt Church of Rome. I was no longer the timid student who once stood trembling with fear in front of our history teacher. I boldly and convincingly expounded all the pertinent factors that determined Germany’s future historical and religious landscape. I took the entire time allotted for the oral exam. So the committee of principal and teachers had no time to ask any unsettling questions at the end. I walked away with the confident feeling that I had consolidated my satisfactory standing in History. Also in Math I was able to prove that I deserved a better final grade. My task was to find a solution for the total amount of work required to dig a cylindrical hole of a certain depth. Herr Müller, my beloved math teacher in the senior division, guided me through this difficult problem of integration. He so cleverly posed the right questions that they contained valuable hints allowing me to bring the session to a successful conclusion. It would have been nice to express my gratitude to an excellent teacher some fifty years later. Unfortunately, while I was searching the school Website I found out that he had passed away the year, before I started to write our family history.

Front Page of my Graduation Diploma

Front Page of my Graduation Diploma

With the prestigious graduation certificate (Abitur) in our possession we had access to many postsecondary programs offered by the German universities. As for me, two years of military service at the Bundeswehr (West German army) had to come first. In those days it was still possible to enlist as a volunteer for a period of 24 months instead of the mandatory 18 months with the advantage of receiving a handsome salary, becoming an officer of the reserve, and being able to choose an army unit in keeping with one’s technical abilities. I opted for service in the signal corps, a choice that definitely reflected my interest in electronics and communication technologies.

Newspaper Clipping with Names of the Graduates

Newspaper Clipping with Names of the Graduates

It so happened that the graduation exercises had ended exactly at the start of the carnival season. Being together one last time with my friends and classmates, before we would scatter into all directions, I made full use of the golden opportunity to celebrate the great milestone and to lose myself in the relaxed atmosphere of the dance hall, forgetting the trials and tribulations before graduation and not worrying for the time being about the future. When the time of drinking, dancing and attending late night parties was over, I was physically exhausted, but for the moment I felt free as if a heavy burden had been taken off my shoulders.

Biene with her first pair of skis - Winter 1963

Biene with her first pair of skis – Winter 1963

I had not forgotten Biene. Now with more time at my disposal I wrote her a letter bringing her up to speed on my success at school and the tumultuous days at the carnival festivities. But what mattered the most I found the courage to express my feelings about what was so special about her in my mind. At the campground in the spring the year before I had discovered in her appearance the natural beauty that needed no cosmetic enhancement with rouge, lipstick or artificial hair color. Biene for me embodied the ideal image of a girl. In the letter I gave her my father’s address hoping that she would reply.

The Ending of the Mystery Story (Chart I – III)

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The mystery story should rather be called mysterious, perplexing and horrifying. The reader might question the audacity and recklessness on my part to send such a horrible piece of writing to my girlfriend. What kind of love letter was this supposed to be?! How would a girl, just 19 years old, respond to the horrors of a subterranean cave dweller other than with total rejection of the young suitor, who had just revealed his otherworldly distorted sense of reality?

As it turned out Biene was deeply touched by the story, even though it did not have a good ending. But she had the advantage of getting the entire story in one piece. She also found that the story was based on a real event that took place at our yard back home, when I was on a weekend leave from the West German army. Uncle Günther was upset that mice had dug deep tunnels into the ground and if unchecked would have eventually ruined the wonderful lawn of the backyard. I witnessed how he flushed out the mouse with the garden hose and stomped on her as she was trying to escape out of her flooded den underground.

Sorting out some old documents, I came across a handwritten booklet of the mouse story and thought it might be of interest to some of the readers of my blog.

Plötzlich blendete sie grelles Tageslicht. Mit einem Satz sprang sie hinaus ins Trockene, in die Freiheit, ins Leben. Keuchend und zitternd vor Atemnot, aber glücklich für das zum dritten mal geschenkte Leben, lag die Frau da, bemerkte zu spät den dunklen Schatten, der vernichtend auf sie niederhieb. Kein Zufall, kein hier und dort treffender Schicksalsschlag, höhere Absicht bis in die letzte Einzelheit gewollt, begründet auf einen unerklärlichen Zorn, waren ihre letzten Gedanken, die ihr durchs Gehirn schossen. Der Hieb des unbekannten Gewichts saß haargenau. Es entschwand sogleich wieder in die blaue Höhe, um das Opfer gleichsam höheren Blicken freizugeben. Bestimmt schon tot, wenn auch das bloßgelegte Herz noch tüchtig pochte. Das Blut, das nach allen Seiten gespritzt war, färbte das welke Gras mit grellroter Farbe. Unter dem plötzlich schweren Druck sprizte nicht nur Blut in die Natur. Der Leib hatte die innere Last nicht mehr halten können. Umgeben von zuckendem Gedärm lagen blind und nackt die ungeborenen Kinder auf dem Geröll der Erde! Welch ein erschaudernder Anblick! Kann einem Menschen soviel Leid geschehen, wie es dieser jungen Maus geschah?

 

Mit lässiger Fußbewegung stieß der Mann die Überreste der Maus in das Loch zurück. Sie war ihm schon lange ein Dorn im Auge gewesen und hatte ein großen Teil seines Ziergartens unterwühlt. Nun holte er den roten Gartenschlauch aus dem Nachbarloch und spülte die blutigen Körperfetzen in den Schlund zurück. Zufrieden steckte er sich seine Pfeife an und sog den aromatischen Duft in seine Lungen. Die Schuld war beglichen.

 

 

Norbert Werner Visits the ‘Golden West’

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My Travels to the West in 1955 and 1987

(Chart IV – III, IV and Chart I – III, IV)

Contributed by Norbert Werner

Part III

Now the path can finally be cleared to all sorts of government offices. First of all the application form for the passport needs to be procured. By this process the first decision regarding the success of this undertaking would be made. We are at the end of February. I am so bold and book at the travel agency the flight for the 24th of August – of course totally without any obligations; for I do not yet have any official confirmation or permit at that time. Meanwhile the application is being processed at my work place. I figure that my chances of success are good. After all, I am leaving a wife, two children, a house and property behind as ‘security’. That should convince the comrades at the State Security Service (Stasi) that I would definitely also take the return flight! With Walter and Peter’s help I request the necessary papers: the official invitation and confirmation of the school administration in Fauquier. To obtain these documents is no problem for Peter. Of course, they are written in English, so I need to get an officially certified translation with seal and signature.

In April I submit the application and receive the passport at the beginning of May. Now my departure has been secured. Now I need to get the entry visa to Canada. That would take up to 8 weeks, for the closest Canadian embassy is located in Warsaw. I am using the waiting period to plan the journey and the program. Walter and I arrange with the relatives in Toronto that we would spend the first week (Robert would be joining us later) to get to know the city. Walter is taking care of the tickets from Toronto to British Columbia.

In July the moment has finally come. The visa arrives. We all are informed, for now everything has been settled and the last round of preparations can begin. Twenty kg of luggage is quickly put together,  for there should be a little gift for everyone. The special school candy bag (Zuckertüte) for Stefan is going to be the highlight. The ticket has been paid and I exchange 15 mark of GDR currency at the rate of one to one into West mark. More than that I am not permitted to have. Can you imagine? I am starting this journey half way around the globe with only 15 marks in my pocket, modest command of the English language, without cell phone, etc. ?

On August 24th my journey begins, first to Belgrade with overnight stay included in the price (remember I have only 15 marks), then on the next day on to Toronto. These are going to be four weeks filled with adventure and great experiences. Walter documented this in three big photo albums. I made hundreds of slides, which I could show later on many occasions to marveling GDR citizens.

 The impressions and experiences I had on this my very own ‘world trip’ are going to be another chapter. In the contribution to this blog I just wanted to create an impression of the travel (im)possibilities in the German Democratic Rebublic, which nowadays one can hardly visualize.

And the best part comes here at the end: Up to the last moment I believed that there would be a big family celebration for Stefan’s introduction into the school system, as is the custom in Germany. I was greatly disappointed, because Stefan had been in school for over a year, just like his brothers in the Fauquier Elementary School, where their father had been the teacher for grades 4 to 7.

Norbert with Stefan
Biene, Norbert, Walter

Norbert Werner Visits the ‘Golden West’

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My Travels to the West in 1955 and 1987

(Chart IV – III, IV and Chart I – III, IV)

Contributed by Norbert Werner

Part II

From my uncle Walter (Biene’s brother) we had received many travel reports about his life in the USA as well as about the life of the Klopp family in Canada. Besides my wife’s uncle lived with his family in Toronto. And so my curiosity for the land and people had been awakened. Above all, I desired to see my aunt Biene after more than 20 years.

I figured that (at least by German standards) Stefan, the youngest member of the family, would have to start school by September 1987. Under these circumstances I saw a worthwhile cause to apply for a travel permit. With this idea in mind I began the long arduous task of travel preparations. One needs to know that everything had to be arranged by mail. We had no phone and there was no possibility this way to make contact with people in the West.

The first step brought me to the travel agency of the GDR to explore the necessary travel connections. The information I received was quite favorable, for there was an itinerary from Berlin-Schönefeld (GDR) over Belgrade to Toronto for a total cost of about  3,400 marks. At that price I was able to finance half the trip by myself (For your understanding: My monthly salary being on the lowest rank of the salary grid at that time in the people’s owned state enterprise (VEB) was about 1,500 marks).

Now I had to inform Biene about my intentions; for up to now she had absolutely no idea about my ‘invitation’. There was great joy on both sides of the Atlantic. There was just one little obstacle left that had to be removed. How would I get from Toronto in Eastern Canada all the way to Fauquier not far from the West Coast (The reader needs to be reminded that Canada is the second largest country in the world. PK)? Walter was able to help me and took care of all the remaining arrangements.

Part III will be published on the next post.