My Dream to Be Free Read online

  Then at some point, I made my bread and jam look so delicious to a well-nourished - I don't want to say fat - farmer's son that he absolutely wanted to exchange it with me. Of course I pretended to him and only after my greatest hesitation we then exchanged our break-time sandwiches. Even today I am convinced that these are the best ham sandwiches ever!

  Due to some prejudices, I did not have any real contact to my classmates. Their parents passed on their opinion that the people from Eastern Europe, that is, the refugees and displaced persons, were the "vermin" and "useless people" like the gypsies - and it would be better if they all went back to the East.

  I got to know my father

  We were living for over five years in this small farming village and something very special and very exciting happened. My twelfth birthday was just over, so it must have been in November 1953. It was some weeks ago that Mother came to know from the Red Cross that Father had been discharged from the Russian POW camp and was on his way from Siberia to Germany. This meant that he could arrive at our home at any time. Mother was very nervous and could hardly wait for the moment. Then it was the day that I stood in front of my father and he took me in his arms.

  He was there wearing a Russian winter jacket, which was lined with cotton-quilted and worn-out, gray-green trousers, shoes with gaiters and a Russian fur cap on his head. From now my brother and I had a father and my mother had a husband again. Very soon Father found a job in an iron foundry in the larger neighboring town. From then on, there was Schnitzel or chops coated with breadcrumbs on the table. Father forbid my Mother from putting a soup before him even once. In his opinion he had had enough water with grass in the Siberian exile. According to Father's short stories, there had been nothing else in the so-called soup apart from that.

  Father spoke very little about the war and his captivity. But even the few stories that he disclosed to us now and then were shocking enough. That had been pure hell to be condemned to forced labor for so many years in a Russian silver mine in Siberia, as a former German Sergeant.

  He had survived Stalingrad, even the captivity; now he just did not want to be reminded anymore of this period.

  We moved to the neighboring village, so that Father did not have to travel so long for work. My brother made his apprenticeship in the same factory in which Father worked. I also had to change schools once again. But it was time for me as well to start an apprenticeship. My last day of school was in the April 1956.

  At the age of 14 and after 8 years of primary school, as it was known earlier - I was now ready for the professional life, as adults called it. My parents wanted me also to enroll myself as mechanic trainee at the foundry in which Father and my brother worked. But I had other plans with regard to my professional career.

  I wanted to go to the sea - I wanted to be a seaman.

  I wanted to see the world, I wanted to sail to Hawaii, which I had promised the girls, that I would take this one or the other one to Hawaii along with me. I was still not sure whom to take along but of course there was time for that. In the factory with Father and my brother - impossible! Even as a small boy, and I mean when I had been really young, it had been my wish to get to know the world as a ship's cook. And now I should go to this factory? Absolutely unthinkable!

  There was only this tiny problem: How do you become a ship's cook? My parents were not impressed by my idea and wanted to know nothing about seafaring.

  An apprenticeship as a chef on the other hand, was a wise decision, since I would always have something to eat even in bad times.

  There was a lot of discussion and tears about this issue but my decision was fixed: I would become ship's cook! There was still no job centers at the employment bureau and Mother and I had an appointment with a job counselor; that was the gentleman was called. I still remember that job counselor. A very small official behind a desk that was too big. This man asked us what we wanted to know. And I explained to him directly that he had to tell me how I could become a ship's cook.

  Surprised, he replied that this was not his field. But at least he knew that a seamen's employment office could help me further. But he himself could give me a job as an apprentice chef if I wanted. Of course, I wanted that; I had to first complete an apprenticeship to then sign on to a ship. As a qualified chef, the route would then be cleared for it.

  So I underwent an aptitude test given by the job counselor; that is what he called his stupid questions. Among other things, there was these questions: If a guest ordered a meat dish on a Friday what would I do? I replied that I would do anything, to fulfill the wishes of the guest as well as possible. The job counselor was outraged at this answer and declared that it was completely wrong. I actually had to suggest an egg dish or a meal with fish, to the guest as a Christian was not permitted to eat meat on a Friday. The religion required that! I realized that I still had a lot to learn before I could understand the big wide world. Then a new appointment was made. Two weeks later we were told that there was no position for an apprenticeship as chef.

  But it was possible for them to give me a training as a confectioner. And that is what happened.

  Everyone were of the opinion that a confectioner and a chef were ultimately not so wide apart and that I had the same opportunities in seafaring. And so I began a three-year training as a pâtissier in Marburg an der Lahn. At home everything was once again discussed with Father.

  And on a Sunday Father was free from work and he drove Mother and me 80 km in our Fiat 500 to Marburg, to look at my new apprenticeship place and to sign the apprenticeship contract. Sunday was also therefore a good day because of course the confectionery café was open - just this week day was the best of the week for a pastry shop. Only much later I realized what it meant to work on Sundays always. But I didn't think any further at that time. I was glad to have the apprenticeship contract signed.

  It was agreed that the 1st of April 1956 was my first working day and we drove back home in Father's Fiat 500.

  After the ride home, I was happy as always to be able to get out of the car. I did not like this mode of transport at all. I always felt as if I was sitting in a tin can with wheels. I usually had to sit in the rear seat, directly over the small howling engine. And each time, when father switched gears, I felt as if I had splinters in my butt because the father was driving with double-declutching. I was glad that I did not have to ride with him the next time any more.

  I traveled by train to Marburg to get started with the apprenticeship. Mother packed a small blue case made of cardboard with my things fully and announced that the small case was my property now.

  From then onwards I had my own suitcase - who can claim that at the age of 15? I was very proud of myself and my blue cardboard suitcase.

  It was an indescribable feeling to be on my own – in a train – on my first trip ever - on the way to a strange place. No parents close by, who always dictated to you what you should do and what you should not do.

  I had freedom and could now do or leave what I wanted - that is what I thought! However, even on my first trip, I had to learn that that being on your own was not that simple at all. At 8 a.m. I traveled from home and had to switch trains three times and always ask passengers or the railway staff, regarding which train I had to take to continue on my journey or from which platform I had to catch the train.

  The Apprenticeship

  I was afraid to never arrive at my destination. Even the O-bus in Marburg scared me and I had to ask again and again for information. Finally however at 4 pm, I arrived at the bakery after a journey of more than eight hours! I was assigned a room under the roof and I got my work uniforms as well as meals for the whole week. Margarine in a tub, four boiled eggs, a can of herrings in tomato sauce, a box of spreadable Triangle Cheese, a small salami, a packet of cooked ham and a loaf of bread, accompanied by a metal plate, a cup and a spoon. So this was the weekly ration for dinner. Hot water for tea preparing tea and tea was provided each evening after work.

  I could te
ll immediately that I had not landed in paradise. The next day I had to report at 7 am in the bakery. "Learning years are not earning years", this clever slogan would accompany me now in the next three years, I was sure of that.

  At the age of fourteen and a half years, I had the experience of just doing all kinds of tasks. Since there was also a bakery at the pastry shop and no apprentice was there at the bakery, I was entrusted with this work as well.

  So this is how it looked like: Already at 6 a.m. I had to be in the bakery to distribute buns packed in plastic bags, in a wicker basket on the back and riding a bicycle to Marburg-South.

  I was back at around 8 a.m. and was working in the pastry shop. At 10 a.m. I received a basket with handles, filled with pastries from the previous day.

  This time, the path lead over to the big government administrative building. There I sold the baked goods from the previous day for less money than in the shop to the office employees. This took over an hour and by noon, I was able to work in the bakery again. My colleagues were very nice to me, because I was still so young and so far away from home. The team consisted of three confectioners, three bakers' assistants, three Café-waiters / waitresses, two saleswomen and a female sales trainee of my age. As much as it was possible, we all sat together for lunch and were one big family, all together with the master and the mistress. Now and then, someone had to leave his plate, to go back to the bakery or to the shop to finish some work. There was some food available in a large black, iron skillet and which was cooked in an oven almost every day. Danishes, cinnamon rolls, baked yeast rolls and everything, which the office employees did not want, landed in the skillet. Some of these pastries were now already three days old. There were American-cookies, Danish pastries (Plunder), goodies from Basel, French Petit-Fours, Eierwecken from Oberhessen and even white bread.

  I was permitted to beat some eggs with milk and pour it over all these crumbled sweets. I was always allowed to cook the vanilla sauce and place it on the table. The master himself supplied a bottle of self-picked and preserved fruits. At the beginning I found our food to be very good but after a month, I did not want to or could not see any ”Armen Ritter" or "Kirchenmichel", or whatever they were called, let alone eat them.

  If something from this delicious food was left over, it was put in the fridge and on the next day, there was then the "Kalter Hund"("Cold Dog") - our teacher baptized this dish so. Once a week, our neighbor, a butcher, brought his forms with liver sausages for baking. There was always a form for us, what a feast! Fresh bread rolls, accompanied by a thick slice of hot liver-cheese (Leberkäse)! But you had to be careful with the fresh bread rolls; we were not allowed to take them, we were allowed to take only the ones from the previous day.

  Once I was caught by the master, as I had just put in a croissant, which had been just taken out of the oven, into my apron, to eat it in the toilet. There was a big racket and from then on I was a thief, at least in the master's eyes.

  The master also paid attention always that the baked pastries just lay on the metal sheet or the grille in rows and columns, so that you could see immediately how many were there. There were always 4 times 5 or 9 times 6 or 7 times 8 of pieces on the sheet. Then he could see at a glance whether there was a gap and a piece was missing.

  In Autumn, each person who was not necessarily working in the shop was sent to the big garden at the South Railway Station to pluck fruits. I was there in every action, which happened after working hours, because I lived in-house, and no one waited for me. After plucking plums, the plums had to be cooked and that was also my job. My master came up with a fine saying, which he then used: "You don't have to do that, but if you want to learn something, I can only suggest to you to stay there and to do the job".

  Of course I wanted to learn and complete my final examinations, so I stayed and held my tongue. Since I had had the privilege to live in-house, I was also allowed to cream cakes (Sahnetorten), fresh fruit flans (Obsttorten), hors d’oeuvres, cream cheese cakes and many more, with my master even on Sundays. Of course it was voluntary.

  One of my tasks also included that on Sunday evenings at 10 p.m., I had the privilege of heating the large oven, or rather I had to! If the bakers came at 3 o'clock in the morning, the oven had to have the right temperature. Let's not forget that the oven was heated with coal-briquettes. Every two months a huge truck arrived with these briquettes, which I "had the privilege" of getting into the basement. Everything was well organized by my Master. This was because my bread rolls tour with fresh, hot bread rolls or buns, was on the agenda, as the others say punctually at 6 a.m.

  I could see the Castle of Marburg through the small splayed windows from my room which was under the roof. On my free day, it could be any day of the week or very rarely even a Sunday, I wandered frequently to the castle. And on the way back I enjoyed a milkshake in the milk bar on Rudolfplatz, as it was the case, that particular day.

  You had a unique view of Marburg, the St. Elisabeth's Church and up to the railway station, from the castle. Marburg was not only university town, but also a garrison town. The cityscape molded the young people, students, soldiers or craftsmen such as me. They were to be seen everywhere, as also in the milk bar, therefore it drew me back there again and again. I had to be very careful with my low apprentice wage of just 12 DM per month.

  But I could spend DM 1.20 for a milkshake, sometimes refined even with a bit of alcohol. Since I did not smoke, drink or have any other vices and did not have to worry about boarding and lodging, I did not have any problems.

  A group of young Dutch girls were on a short vacation to Germany. I got into conversation with a girl and was surprised at how well she spoke German. She told me that she could also speak English. We immediately got along with one another well. Not only because of the language - there was something else - it was a language that only the heart understood. Suddenly I had a lump in his throat and began to stutter. She laughed and asked if she made me nervous. I said yes and she then said that I was the nicest boy she knew and that she had nothing against us becoming friends.

  We agreed to meet the next day around 3 p.m. in front of the Castle, directly under the entrance of the archway. I forgot that I actually had to work. I had fallen in love and wanted to absolutely see Elane - that was the name of the Dutch girl. I had to see her again and tell her that we had to write to one another and see one another again, whether in Holland, or here in Germany. The next day I invented the most violent and worst toothache ever a person could have, from midday. My moaning was heard from my Master and I was on time at 3 p.m. under the archway and waited for Elane. Since I already knew the Castle, I was a good guide. I also knew the dark corners, into which I led her and we kissed. I was terribly excited! I do not know exactly whether it was because of Elane or it was because of the evening obtained by fraud.

  I was fifteen and Elane told me that she was already sixteen. I believed her, because she taught me how to kiss. But the afternoon passed and she had to go back to her group and I back to my bakery. We had exchanged our addresses and promised to write to each other. Elane lived in Wormerveer near Amsterdam and I promised to visit her.

  I left the date open.

  We wrote our postcards and letters to one another. Once I sent her a packet with a Mecki, a mascot, which was "in" then and she loved this little hedgehog. It cost me almost a month's salary, but the things we do, when we fall in love.

  But I was a bastard who was too lazy to write and did not answer her letters. And as a result I received fewer and fewer letters from Holland, till one day I did not receive any letters at all anymore. I was not even sad about it and noticed this for the first time in my life: Out of sight, out of mind!

  I then got involved with the sales trainee girl and passed on my kissing technique to her. I exaggerating it sometimes, because if she was to fetch something from the storeroom, I slipped in and we jostled on the flour-sacks, kissed and fondled one another. We didn't have sex, her black skirt was white from the flo
ur dust and there was trouble. To avoid trouble, I planned not to start anything with the women-colleagues in the future.

  My Experience with Socialism

  My first holidays were about to start. Father picked me up in his Fiat 500 and I went home to my mother and brother. There was no Master for a month, no bakery, no trips with bread rolls, no pension office and also no girl-apprentices, whom I could catch hold of under her skirt. But to make up for it, we went on a trip with Mother to the GDR, to the eastern zone, to her brother.

  On the third day of my holiday, Mother and I were already seated in the train in the direction of Erfurt. My Uncle had his own bakery there and was also the operations manager or something similar in a HO-bakery. In any case he was financially well-off and we noticed that also from his lifestyle. There was enough money, only you couldn't buy anything. Uncle had a Skoda, aunt many mink coats and they ate only in a hotel.

  My uncle told me that I should spend as much money as I could. However I did not know what I should spend money for, since there wasn't anything there, which I could have used. So my Uncle, who had taken a holiday for us, drove my Aunt, Mother and me through half the Republic. There were only the finest of the finest to eat. I had not imagined such a wonderful holiday. That was probably because of the fact that each person to whom I had told about my holiday in the East had advised me against it. The reason was always the same: there nothing, they did not even have lemons or bananas there. Also there were no coffee beans or chocolate. To be honest, I did not miss lemons, bananas or coffee. And I had enough chocolate in my shop.

  My cousin, who was older than I and studied in the University, often took me along with him to sporting events:

  Motocross- rides, parachuting and common camping ventures. All of this was a lot of fun for me. The political discussions were however not for me. I didn't want to hear the nonsense that we Westerners were slaves of the Americans and about socialism in the GDR, and how it was in the GDR was the only right way, any more. But I did not contradict it and my cousin was satisfied. I knew that my uncle was playing with the idea of leaving the Republic. Since Mother had urged me not to mention anything from the randomly picked up conversation. I kept quiet.