Once in Zurich it appeared that every American in Europe was there celebrating the Fourth of July. “The number of American tourists and American servicemen here must exceed the number of inhabitants,” I had remarked to Mitch.
We got a hotel room through the tourist office at the train station, only the room didn’t have a tub or shower. And for some reason – perhaps the hotel owner disliked American tourists or just American military tourists – the hotel owner would not allow us to take a bath in the communal bathroom. Thus for four days we “bathed” in our hotel room sink without even a bucket for our lower half like Miss Winkler used.
On Sunday after the boat ride we tried to find a place to eat using the guidebook that every American tourist clutched in their hands – “Arthur Frommer’s Europe on $5 to $10 a Day.” Apparently Frommer forgot to mention that Zurich restaurants were closed on Sundays.
Of course the first restaurant we tried was closed.
Then on the way to the next Frommer’s recommended restaurant, as I remarked to Mitch, “I hope that restaurant isn’t closed too,” the tourist passing us in the opposite direction replied, “It is.”
We finally found a hotel in which to have dinner. And there I had an unpleasant dining experience. I ordered calf’s liver, and the dish came served as one long roll. In the dark restaurant I couldn’t see that what held the pieces of liver together were pieces of bacon. I was quite distressed when I realized what I was eating.
The following day we took an hour’s train ride to scenic Lucerne. There the density of Americans was so intense that Mitch insisted we return to Zurich almost immediately. (Our avoidance of Americans while we lived in Germany was because we wanted to experience the local culture rather than be surrounded by Americans as if we were back in the U.S.)
At least Monday evening we were able to eat at Frommer’s recommended cheese fondue restaurant that had been closed when we had tried it previously. But when we were seated at a communal table with two American non-military tourist families, Mitch and I spoke in German to avoid talking to the Americans. As my German was abysmal, I did wonder if the Americans could tell they were being snubbed.
Then the husband of the older American couple said he could remember reading about Beowolf and Thor in 7th grade and now this couple was actually going to Greece where these mythic figures had lived.
At this point I figured Mitch’s and my deceit was safe from detection because these people were obviously clueless – Beowolf and Thor were legendary heroes of the Scandinavian countries; they were not Greek mythological figures.
On Tuesday Mitch and I outsmarted ourselves. When we had to turn back to Munich because of car trouble and take the train, thereby losing a whole day of vacation, we had both arranged to also take Tuesday off.
This was the day we were expecting a friend of mine who was coming up from Geneva, Switzerland, to stay with us before going on to Israel. Knowing my friend well, I figured she would never get up early enough to take the first train.
Thus Mitch and I confidently took the second train coming up from Geneva, stopping in Zurich, and going on to Munich. We walked through all the train cars looking for my friend, who was nowhere to be found.
At least I had arranged a backup plan. If my friend called at the Army Air Force Motion Picture Service, she was to be directed to call the wife of the other 18th MI Battalion Jewish officer, who worked at the European Exchange System. This couple would then take charge of my friend until Mitch and I arrived.
This was indeed what transpired – and Mitch and I were able to take the first bath/shower in four days before my friend was brought to our quarters. “I especially got up early,” my friend had said, “so I could get here sooner.”
Now I stuck my hand in the placid water of Lake Chiemsee and watched the ripples spread through my fingers and away from the side of the boat.
I thought I had known my friend enough to predict what she would do. I also thought I knew a lot about Henry Einstein. But last Monday I had learned something more about him.
That was the evening that the small Jewish army community in Munich had a visit from a reservist Jewish chaplain – a major in the U.S. Army Reserves now living in Israel and stationed in Stuttgart for two months this summer for his reserve duty.
The visiting chaplain announced his plans to take a busload of people from Stuttgart and Augsburg to the concentration camp of Dachau the coming Sunday, August 1, as that date this year was Tisha B’Av. (Jews fast on Tisha B’Av to mourn for all the terrible things that happened on that same date, including the destructions of the First and Second Temples in Jerusalem.)
Mitch and I weren’t sure we would go to Dachau then as we’d already been twice.
The other 18th MI Battalion Jewish officer leaned over to Henry Einstein and asked why he’d never been to Dachau. Henry’s hands trembled as he stared back.
Then Henry said, “In the investigations for the Nuremberg war trials and the interviews I had to conduct, I saw it in my mind better than many people who saw a camp after the war.”
And then for the first time Henry mentioned his father. He looked down at his hands, then looked up again. “My father was killed in Auschwitz.” He paused. “And I lost 12 other relatives at the hands of the Nazis.”
Henry had already explained months before that his mother escaped Germany the day before the Nazis started World War II. She had claimed French citizenship as her father was born in Alsace when it was French.
Henry himself was already safe with relatives in the U.S., and he never did say how his mother survived in Nazi-occupied France. Mitch and I did know that his mother was the reason he stayed in Germany after the war and his service in the American army ended.
I glanced over at the other officer. Given Henry’s emotional reaction to the question, it was clear that officer was very sorry he asked Henry about visiting Dachau.
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If you enjoy reading about the imaginative future as well as the historical past, see my dystopian thriller THE MOTHER SIEGE here on Wattpad at http://budurl.com/MSonWattpad
Chapter 19: July 25, 1971
Start from the beginning
