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| Dad at 18 in 1936 |
It’s my father’s birthday. Born in Wesselburen, near the North Sea in Schleswig-Holstein back in 1918, he’d be 107 today. He passed away at 75 back in 1993. While he got to witness the collapse of the Berlin Wall, he missed out on most of my kids’ childhoods. And they, missed out on having a fun-loving Opa in their lives.
I think my dad appreciated fun because of the not-much-fun years. He joined the German Luftwaffe at 18, back in 1936. The small-town boy had witnessed his bedridden father die (possibly from a morphine overdose?) after lingering Great War wounds, the previous year.
Young Robert was no doubt eager to leave the poverty and depression at home for the excitement and status of being a pilot in Hermann Göring’s Luftwaffe. I know one perk was that he got to watch the diving competition during the Berlin Olympics back in 1936. He ended up crashing a plane he was piloting, killing all 17 paratroopers on board. After a lengthy recovery he was re-instated into the Military Police on the eastern front. That ended with five years in Soviet custody near Moscow and the collapse of his first marriage along with the death of his two sons.
Eighteen years later, I became the firstborn of his new family here in Winnipeg.
Happy 107, Dad. It would be great to share a coffee and some Königskuchen with you today! I've got so many questions I'd like to ask you. I'm finally ready to listen to the stories about the old days. I think our world needs to remember those days ... now, more than ever!
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| My oldest daughter with her opa 1987 |
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