The Sugar Beet

Sugar beet, my sugar beet how sweet thou art.

I hold you in my hands and memories flow out.

I see Poland, Germany and the USA as one.

The tip is so sweet and the meat so tender when cooked.

The greens and your top is fed to farm stock for ham & steak.

The body is used to make syrup and sugar and vodka. 

As mentioned in my earlier stories,the sugar beet entered my life back in the village of Shostka(now Poland).I don't remember that we had any growing on the farm. My brother Armwin and I went roaming and saw them in the loading area of a railroad yard.
In West Germany I found out more about this plant,such as how to thin the rows that the remaining plants can grow big and not be stunted. Saw my uncles harvest the mature beets. Went gleaning for them after the harvest and ate the cooked meat of the beet.
 My uncles also brought some from their work so the family could make syrup and mash from which vodka could be distilled and I got my first buzz.Later years in the USA, I saw acres and acres of them in the fields and trucks and railroad cars loaded with this precious cargo heading to the sugar factories.I also was involved by selling filter elements to those factories to remove impurities from the flow of beet juices in the manufacturing process.
 The beet continues to be part of the family now. My nephew Kurt Steinke,PhD, is doing research in the field  to improve the sugar content, yields at harvest time and how to reduce the deseases of the plants.It will be interesting to get first hand progress reports unless his contracts have the code of silence in the fine print.

More Memories From Harste

More memories from Harste....

One of the features I saw in the area were apple trees planted along the roads coming into the village...and on both sides of the roads.The families could lease these trees at a price from the village authorities and harvest the apples.If the apples were on the ground us kids collected them unless those families got there first.Some times this caused some troubles.After the harvest was done the kids always looked for the lone apples that had been missed.At the time I left it did not matter anymore. The trees were old and not really cared for and if one tree died, it was not replanted.

The manor also had a big orchards and the big boys made it a sport in sneaking in to get the different fruit...through fences and over stone walls.One neglected orchard was located away from the village in the middle of a plowed field that seemed to be fair game.It had a fence but fallen down section made it easier for us smaller kids to get the forbidden fruits.

I remember one fall there seemed to be a field mice over-population and us kids had a ball hunting them or digging them out.I think we were cruel and had no mercy but it seemed fun.

When the sparrows decided to overpopulate, the village set a bounty of a nickel per bird or egg brought in.The big boys went to work and no sparrow was safe.All barns in the village or in the country were searched.Even the church steeple was depopulated.It ran its course or interest slowly faded away.

There were old barns in the area but us little boys avoided them as soon as the twilight came.I remember two such barns and each had a story about suicide and ghosts.Another story floated around about a woman that hanged herself in her room in one of the houses at one end of the village and another woman was killed when she stepped in front of the bus at the other end of the village.

 A story existed about a mount near the road to another village that the kids avoided at night.It was a place of execution by hanging...Galgenberg (Mt of the gallows).I should know I tried to write a scary story as one of my school paper assignment.I must have lost that story in the big move.

On another hill called the Steinberg(Stone mount) were the remnants of an ancient watch tower and the rumor was that a tunnel existed between that tower and the manor house.Just a rumor I think.

That hill was more fun in the winter time for the big boys for it had a steep backside that the daring boys would sled down,I never did.There was also a trail leading through the wood that was used as a sledding path.With big trees and bushes on both sides that only the daring negotiated .I tried but not very successfully.My big brother sledded both places with gusto and made fun of me because I did not dare the trips.I did explore those areas in the other three seasons looking for flowers and hazelnuts.
On another field near by some of the bigger boys had build a snow mound for jumping with skies.This was the first time I saw boys with skies going down a small hill.I don't recall what type of  bindings or skies that were used.It was many years later that friends  in Minnesota taught me how to ski downhill .

On the other side of the hill, which seemed big for us kids was the village soccer field.Every Saturday and even on Sunday games against other village teams were played.It was free as far as I know.I visited that place again many years later.Very close to the field was also a natural spring that quenched my thirst many times and  I did drink from it on the first return trip but not on the second one.The area seemed neglected with debris around the spring and the flow was just a trickle.It must have been a dry year on my last visit.

The little spring fed a little creek that fed the Harste river.I followed that creek further in that little valley and woods to look for flowers, raspberries and hazelnuts.In the same area Dad had clear cut and replanted the area with new pine seedlings.This was part of forest management.Many years later I again strolled through that valley and the trees were tall and wonderful to see. I told my Dad what I saw on my return home to USA. I believe he felt a sense of satisfaction about his work in those years.I saw those trees again on my second trip to the area.Yes, they were taller and wider and ready for the harvest. I expect that new seedlings have grown tall again and the cycle repeats.Now it is somebody else's work and another set of kids can be proud what their fathers accomplished.

Harste Years

Harste years
I started first grade that spring of 1947..my teacher,Frau Lange,the 2nd of the influential women in my life.The first was my Mother.She had come down with Polio and had to wear a support on her legs to get around but she had books and that was most important to me.My German language skills( speaking and writing) were not up to standard.I had missed two years of schooling...no such things as Pre-Kindergarden and Kindergarden classes in my life.My folks made me memorize the multiplication tables( up to 12X12) and read my Father's field bible and memorize songs of all sorts.However...fairytales and hero books were my favorites and Frau Lange had them in her collection for there was no library in the area.Because of some limitation the village kids teased me and called me Polak Well...this let to fights with girls and boys.One incident was with a girl who pulled my hair but she had a bigger brother and I was in trouble.No one stepped in to stop the fight...I was on the ground,..face down and covering my head...crying as I was pummeled. An adult must have stopped in and I was saved from being hurt.I learned my lesson...don't pick on bigger kids and be more diplomatic.

In Germany we went to school all year around with time off for holidays only. I must have absorbed things in a hurry...I was 8y starting out and by 11y graduating from fourth grade.Frau Lange was my only teacher during those years.The change in grades was always at Easter time and always got new pair of shoes and something new to wear around that time from my folks.

I liked sports but never was on a soccer team..ever in my life.The running sport was my game...had to be fast to get away from some of my tormentors which was sometimes my own fault.Track became my sport and later in high school in USA, I was good enough to go to the state meet to find out how slow I was as compared to the Chicago boys who left me in the dust in the 400 yard race.My HS days is another story to tell.



The woods were my playground.I discovered the hazelnut bushes and its rewards.The wild flowers seemed to wink at me ....pick me ,pick me....and I did.In a wooded area called the Weinberg(Winehill) outside of the village was full of big beech trees and in their shadow I found the Lilies of the Valley(Mai Gloeckchen). Every time I take in the aroma of that flower, I am back in that forest and among the giant beech trees.If I only could invent that machine to do that transfer...I know the mind can do that and in some cases one never returns. There is danger in scientific discoveries.

About 3to 5 miles away was a wooded area that hid an WWII ammunition depot from the Allied bombers.With the occupation forces in place( Harste was in the British Zone),the old ammunition was being destroyed...blown up.Day after day I heard those explosions.Later when everything was destroyed or dismantled, my Dad and his group went there to salvage the wood. I went looking too...big craters full of water ...like a battle scene.Metal shrapnel embedded in the giant beech trees. Some of the trees blown to pieces others held their ground with metal sticking out of the trunks.

When I first came to the village there was a burned out German battle tank on the side of the road. I saw the big hole near the turret....the death blow that killed all the members of the team inside.They had been buried in the cemetery that later became the resting place for my Grandparents,the Redschlags.A big iron cross market their place.I guess no military cemetery in the area.I climbed on that tank and looked inside...tight quarters.The curiosity over came the fact that four men had lost their lives in one blinding and ear shattering moment.I hope that they were dead when the fire consumed their bodies.My God..My God... the price of war one has to pay.

Survival In Harste

To supplement the available food supply, the family gleaned the fields in the area.Just like Ruth and her mother did in the Bible.We gleaned for dropped ears of wheat,rye,oats and barely.The potato fields and sugar beet field were explored.We went into the woods for beech nuts,wild raspberries,blueberries,mushrooms of all types.Mom was an expert and we never got sick.
For the blueberries we even took a train to better locations.The whole family went to the train station and rode the train further north about an hour or so.We got off and of into the woods to look for those blue beery bushes.Several hours passed by and the containers we brought got filled as well as our stomachs.

In the village there was a white manor house with lots of other buildings.The owner of the manor employed many of the new refugees.This of course raised the issue that our Congress is discussing...Refugees are taking the local jobs away.This did not endear us with the locals for a while and tensions were high.

The manor fields produced sugar beets and potatoes.The kids in the village even worked those rows of small plants by thinning them out. I did that too.The big people did the hoeing and hand harvesting.
My two uncles ,Erich and Erwin did that harvesting too.Each person was assigned to a staked out area.The beet was dug up,greens cut off and the dirt removed and put on a pile.The worker I believe got paid by the area cleared.
In later years I saw those acres and acres in North and South Dakota and in Minnesota and the machines that did the harvesting and the trucks upon trucks hauling the beets to train cars and to the sugar factories in the area.
I don't remember if the manor owner  or a farmer in the village that made small parcels of land available for the refugees that had settled in the town.The parents rented a small parcel of land that became the family vegetable garden.We grew everything that would grow and could be eaten. Dad even grew a few tobacco plants.It wasn't until years later that I saw the big  tobacco fields in Kentucky.

He pulled the lower leaves and hung them to dry and then cut them into fine shreds.He used some type of paper and news paper to roll his cigarettes. He also smoked the pipe.

You Have To Make Choices

The path I walked divided many times and I had to choose among different directions. Some of the choices I made for myself and others were made for me.

Evidently Frau Lange,my teacher,noticed some potential in me and she suggested that I take an entrance test for accelerated education paths.At that time in Germany you had three paths depending on test results and money.The least expensive was middle school,next high school and the fastest and highest Gymnasium.The gymnasium route was a sure way for the University path.At each level you could evidently take test to advance faster and if you had the recommendations and money,enter the University path.

The other paths were to go through 8th grade and then to trade schools,apprenticeships,common labor or work on your family farm or family business.

Dad was working and Mom was taking care of baby sister Gudrun so I had to go by myself to the big city and take the test. Needed to buy tickets for the train ride,find the place,take the tests and come home.When I got to the place and saw all those boys and girls with their mothers,I became somewhat proud of myself. I came by myself and no one held my hand.That independent streak got me into tight situations in future years and I think I realize most of the time that having somebody in your corner helps a lot.At least it does make life a little easier.

The score must have been good enough to advance.I don't remember if my folks had to pay anything or because I was a war refuge(Fluechtling,Displaced Person) the German government stepped up to the plate.Maybe I should not complain that the German Reichsbank kept my childhood money,for now I was getting my education for free.Maybe somebody in Germany will tell me I am wrong having this impression. I wonder were I got some of my Republican view points and get skeptical when todays politicians tell me my Social Security Check is welfare or a gift of kindness.

The 5th grade in the big city was an adventure.I was behind in the language skills.My math and teacher's patients kept me going for a lot of red was always on my written papers.I walked the two miles everyday to the train station in a village named Lenglern.The train was pulled by a steam engine.The school was located in the city of Goettingen about 10 miles away.The cheap seats of third class was what I could afford.If I wandered to the higher priced location the conductors reminded me were I belonged.The train steamed through meadows and woods and farm fields for 30 minutes and pulled into the big train station(Bahnhoff) with four major tracks.

I was exposed to a new world of learning and curiosity and good teachers.Besides the books,I got into painting, crafting,(no star making for that was a family affair),field trips,the English game of cricket,field handball and track events. The soccer sport was a village affair and not in my school.I was too young (11y) to be a member on a team.Only the very big boys and adults got to play on the Harste village team.

Since horses were used for plowing and pulling wagons and carriages,riding horses was a novelty to me.Dad had been a Polish cavalry soldier with a long saber when he was 21yrs old and that was romantic.Exposure to riding horses was limited to the ones in books(pictures of Prussian calvary charges,Roman cavalry charging into the pesky Germans) and plow horses.

My folks told me that I fell off a plow horse once and hid my head...now that could explain somethings.

However on the way to school in the big city, I did get to see equestrian riders and a jumping arena. Now the horse world in my family is another story for the future.

I nearly left this out and now I believe it is very important. Those flowers that were winking at me were picked and little bunches were put together and brought with me and peddled on the train and at the market place.However you needed permits, for even then the government was squeezing every penny out of us little people.That reminds me,I need to have a heart to heart talk with Uncle Sam about this,for April 15 is coming up shortly. Well...I did elude the eagle eyes and never got permits for I was always on the move looking for well dressed ladies.Blumen Bitte...Blumen aus dem Wald...Mai Gloeckchen zum verkaufen.

Believe or not ,later in life I was a salesman from 1968 on and was mentored by my Father-in-Law,Warren O. Kjeldsen, until he died many years ago...that could be another story.

It was also during fifth grade that I started with confirmation instruction with the local pastor.All kids from the village that were Lutherans were expected to be instructed in the small and large catechism written by Martin Luther.My brother Art went through this tradition in 1950-51.Confirmation ceremonies were alway after Easter.We were expected to be at church every Sunday.Well ,I ran into trouble with the pastor.The instructions were held once a week after school hours.At that time I was attending school in Goettingen and not  the local school.The pastor wanted to distribute a Church bulletin after our instruction period.The other kids in the class were only girls and the boy was expected to do the work. I protested the division of work.I indicated to the pastor I would do my end of the village but the girls can do the area they lived in. I had homework to do and could not  or would not take the extra time for the distribution.The pastor did not like my view and got upset with me for challenging his instructions.I did not back down.So, I was send home and could not return to the class unless I had a change of attitude.I ran home and told my Mother what had happened. I was in tears and unhappy about the injustice of the situation. I told my Mom I wouldn't go back to this confirmation class. Never! My Mother was in a dilemma for religious instructions were important to her and she saw my side of the situation too.The idea that a child of hers would not be confirmed in the future was not acceptable to her either.She dried my tears and calmly said ," we shall see about this later".
I never did go back to that class for the folks had made the choice to immigrate and we would leave the village in the near future anyway.
Confirmation was still in my future but it would be in Texas in 1953 and in English.That is another story.

Memories from Harste

My years in Harste were good and wonderful.I explored the woods and hills around the area.The big river was the Line River that started in Goettingen as a cartesian spring which I saw on our class field trip.There was also a big salt mine in the same area.The Harste River (Flus) started in a cow barn and bubbled up like a cartesian well too.The river had a trout type fish (florele) but I never caught any by hand like the big boys did.That river was also my swimming pool and I learned how to swim the breast stroke.I never knew the free style or Australian stroke at that time and never got good at that stroke even though I was on the college swim team in1959-60.The coach saw me swimming breast stroke and he needed swimmers desperately that knew how to breast stroke.No records were set and I don't think I warmed the pool up with my speed either...Track was my sport.The same coach for both sports.

Near the river was a pond and the big boys got ahold off abandoned bomb shell halves.These metal shapes served as boats and we all had a lot of fun with them.I guess good use can be made of terrible things if you mix them with boys and water.I don't remember girls participating in that activity.

The big boys always started new things that us younger ones imitated when they left the scene.There was a big stack of straw bales on a nearby farm.The big boys rearranged that pile so it was full of tunnels and with limited entries.We spend hours chasing each other through those dark tunnels.It was a good thing I was not allergic to dust and straw pieces but the knees and pants got a tremendous work over.

We also had another group play of robber pirates.My older brother was the good guy and me the bad guy.My gang captured a girl and his gang had to get her back.I forgot the details and the rules.Well ,the big brother captured me and I didn't give up so easily.The struggle got a little serious and my pants got ripped.When we got home...I was punished for getting the pants ripped.My father's belt found my rear end in a hurry.My big brother of course did not suffer.His clothes were fine for he was stronger and held me down until I called Uncle and that took a while. I think I resented that for a long time and maybe I still do.

My Life Starts Again In Harste

We were a crowd in that one room in Engelhard's house but quickly we dispersed in early summer of 1947 . Harste was a small village among the rolling hills of Lower Saxony surrounded by woods and valleys.The creek Harste flowed through ...one big bridge, one little bridge for a very small tributary, two taverns and one town square.There was only one church...Lutheran.I you were Catholic you had to go to another village to make your confession.In those days even Lutherans went to confessions before taking Communion.Both sides of the main street had houses...mostly clusters of farm houses with outbuildings that formed private small inner square spaces (Hoff).I remember a bank,grocery store,bakery and several large multi family buildings. One of the large buildings was named Kaserne. My grandparent,Redschlag,moved into the 2nd floor of that building . One tavern (Gasthaus) was located on the village square on one end of the village(across the church) and a second tavern on the other end were the main road split. There was also one set of row houses next to the church. Our family moved into two rooms on the 2nd floor on one end of that cluster. In an another set of rooms a 2nd family lived up there also .That end of the building was owned by the Von Ole(Oele) family.Once upon a time influential in that area. The name was on the front of the building above the steps The school building for all grades ( 1 thru 8) was near the church.Around the church was my playground which was once upon a time a cemetery.Between the playground ...school ground...and the school stood a old large linden tree.According to tales it was the judgment tree. I still have a class picture as we all lined up by that tree.There also was another linden tree that was over a thousand years old and stood on the Manor's property. Haste had a history and older then Uncle Sam by a thousand summers or more.That tree is no more ...it vanished into the dirt like I will one day.

I started first grade that spring of 1947..my teacher,Frau Lange,the 2nd of the influential women in my life.The first was my Mother.Frau Lange had come down with Polio and had to wear a support on her legs to get around but she had books and that was most important to me.My German language skills( speaking and writing) were not up to standard.I had missed two years of schooling...no such things as Pre-Kindergarden and Kindergarden classes in my life.My folks made me memorize the multiplication tables( up to 12X12) and read my Father's field bible and memorize songs of all sorts.However...fairytales and hero books were my favorites and Frau Lange had them in her collection for there was no library in the area.Because of some limitation the village kids teased me and called me Polak Well...this let to fights with girls and boys.One incident was with a girl who pulled my hair but she had a bigger brother and I was in trouble.No one stepped in to stop the fight...I was on the ground,..face down and covering my head...crying as I was pummeled. An adult must have stopped in and I was saved from being hurt.I learned my lesson...don't pick on bigger kids and be more diplomatic.

In Germany we went to school all year around with time off for holidays only. I must have absorbed things in a hurry...I was 8y starting out and by 11y graduating from fourth grade.Frau Lange was my only teacher during those years.The change in grades was always at Easter time and always got new pair of shoes and something new to wear around that time from my folks.

The family life was fine but with limited material things.Dad worked for the manager of the woods in that area.All areas of Germany had been divided in small districts so the forest could be observed...animals and trees.The harvesting of trees was government business in all areas only a few private parcels existed.The trees were cut and planted according to plans and projected use.The creation of firewood was a prime reason at that time.Even the gathering of dead wood was by permission.Dad got paid in money and piles of firewood.The excess wood in our family was used to get things we needed....food and material needs.Dad had learned as a young man how to weave willow baskets.He used that skill and used the baskets for barter.Us boys went with him to gather the willow stems and branches

My Brother Artur

My older brother Art.....

I was told that he was adventuresome and did not like school.He left his books in the corner and went outside to play.One day he and his friend played with a machine with gears...wheels with big teeth.They pushed and pushed and the frozen mechanism moved and his right hand got caught and crushed the fingers between the small and large gears.The doctors were able to save the thumb and the two outside fingers but not the two center ones.This accident gave him an advantage in arm-wrestling...no one I know off could beat him.

He was separated from the family in 1945 and returned to us in 1949.

When it was for sure that my big brother would get out of Poland,I was elated.Now I am going to have a champion that could stand up to my tormentors and put them in their places.Dream on ...he came to the village and became good friends with some of them instead. I guess back to diplomacy and running...and fast even from him.I must have been a pain.

He barely spoke German...good thing the folks,grandparents 

Redschlag,and the two uncles ,Erwin and Erich Redschlag, could speak Polish.He adjusted quickly and started school.As you may remember books were not his strong points.I disagree on that point.In taking tests the school authorities felt he would be best with farm work.Of course that is what he knew and had worked in for free in Poland.Good thing we moved three years later to the Land of Promise.He started out in farm work in Texas but by moving to Belvidere,he became an apprentice with a Polish builder...no language barrier here.He learned to be a carpenter...union man too.He went on his own to build houses and duplexes. He is now retired but sometimes his knees hurt.He is a solitary man and loves to go fishing in any weather...rivers, ponds and lakes you name it... he was there.

I never went fishing with him.I am not good at it. Ask my friends... I always caught the least or the smallest fish or the eelpout. Now with the move to the Chicago area maybe we can try it and still stay friends.My Father-in-law taught me how to fish in the summer of 1961 and we managed to stay friends until he passed away from cancer many years ago.

I don't have to duck and run anymore and I have to give my brother due respect on a few subjects to stay out of trouble. But...the temptations are always there...how to pick on him,get a rise,and still manage to stay brothers. Is that a character flaw of mine or just seeking trouble?

My Brother Diethard

This story concerns my brother Diet....

My brother has 5 boys and one daughter.He was in a hurry ...twins the first time around.There were no twins in the family before so it must have been his high school sweetheart's responsibility.If she reads this she may not talk to me again because she was upset with me years before.My brother is very competitive...of the three brothers he got married first and had kids first.He was a big jock in HS in any sport he tried as well as a scholar.He was a politician too...student council president ...mouth piece and fog horn of the class of 1961. Yeh ....Belvidere High School.Of course he had to outdo his older brother and that took work.He beat me hands down as far as girls are concerned and the proof is two marriages.The first to get a divorce and marry again.The first to move far away...more than one state...Hartford...Trinity College..Connecticut.The first to get a four year scholastic scholarship....He beat me in the monetary value there.

Who would have thought that this two year old boy holding my hand on that dusty road in far away Poland in 1945, would become a teacher,coach and mentor to so many boys in this Land Of Promise. You can ask the men who are still in contact with him from StJohns,Mercers-burg,Kiski,Storm King and the recognitions he has received. 

I posted a picture of him from his wrestling years to one of his grand-daughters on Fbook.If you look very close you will notice two small scarce ...one on each side of his muscular body.These scarce came from adventures in Texas...one was from his run in with a sunken boat and the other when he literally got hung up on a broke branch and I had to lift him off.Well...what are big brothers for anyway?

Being the middle brother is not easy...you always get a challenge from the kid and always need to get out of the way of the older one.Of course I am sensitive and never caused problems.

Harste--A Believe It Or Not Story

This story was never told to Patti or Lesa or Kristy.. ....it was on the back roads of my mind...my brother Art could verify the birthday story and Uncle Erich that there was a Lisa Karnebogen in Harste. How many verification does one need to make the story true.

I am a romantic and like to read Danielle Steele's books,sing songs from the heart in German and in English...now this is an advantage for multi-tongue immigrants that no one seems to complain about

Still in Germany...Now here is a BELIEVE IT OR NOT STORY.

In third grade there was a black haired and cute girl in my class.She was the daughter of a local farmer.Her farm home was by the big bridge on the bank of the river Harste.I don't think she knew I existed or cared.But not as far as I was concerned.She had a birthday celebration coming up and I tried to be noticed and get invited to that party,Well ...I did not get to go to the party but that did no diminish my feelings for her. I tried to make her jealous by paying attention to another girl in the class.That did not work either.I did not exist as far as she was concerned. The poets write that those feelings never go away...they fade and in unguarded moments come back with full force as if time never passed.In my case that is true to this day.I was told by my Uncle Erich that she died quite young maybe in her 20s

Time passed and I fell in love with my college sweetie who had black hair when I first saw her. She came in late for dinner and I happen to be the waiter at the table she was ushered to. At Cornell the late comers were always sitting with house mothers so they would be in best behavior.I served her milk and tea. She was a freshman and me a big senior with a mustache.That was back in the fall of 1960. However, my Mom also had black hair so it must have been something else. On Xmas Eve Day I asked her Dad for permission to marry his daughter and 1964 we heard the wedding bells ring.We planed our lives and lived in Skokie,Ill. before moving to St.Paul,Mn.

When our daughter,Kristine,was born in 1969 I was 30y old. The name was chosen from past family names.When our second daughter was born we broke with tradition and named her Lesa.You may note it is spelled with an e and not with i.I liked the softer sound that rhymes with the German word for reading...lesen.However the name of the cute black haired girl in 3rd grade was Lisa.Now you know the rest of the story according to a famous radio person.

Some of the episodes were never told before ... they were on the backroads of my mind.

Texas!!! Some More Germans Are Coming

 I became a Mothers Day present for Uncle Sam when the ship docked in the port of New Orleans,Louisiana,on May 9,1952 and got off the boat the next day,May 10,1952.Us kids explored the dock area and wandered around.I knew some English phrases from my classes in Germany.The owner of the ice cream stand in the dock area felt I could improve his sales to the Germans coming off the boat if I yelled out in German about the virtue of vanilla ice-cream.So my first work experience in the USA was as a barker for an ice cream stand.I did not imagine at that time that I would become a professional salesman years later.We were ushered off the boat and put on a train bound for McAllen,Texas.I was disappointed that I didn't see any wild Indians and shooting cowboys thru the windows...only flat and rolling land. I did see them later in a movie called Red River with John Wayne as the shooting cowboy...the Indians should have been the Comanches(read Comanche Moon).

The train stopped at the San Juan station in Texas for it was the closest place to our assigned sponsor.The place is before the McAllen station in 1952.Quite a number of families had the same destination.We got off the train,picked up our belongings.Everything we had loaded on the boat and on the train was there. Nothing was lost.Now we looked for our sponsor.Something went wrong ...no sponsor around.Evidently our sponsor had changed his mind for some reason or other but that notice did not get out to the right people.I never found out what the reasons were.Here was the family at the station and no destination.We had luck at our side.The other four families had the same sponsor,Krehmueller Farms.Mrs.Krehmueller indicated that one more family was no problem and we found a new home and Dad and my older brother had jobs.

The sponsor had build block homes for 10 families and called the place Millacres.The homes were on highway 1 and only one mile from the Rio Grande and 15 miles from McAllen.The Krehmuellers were Austrians who had come to Texas before the wars.They spoke an Austrian dialect and were generous people.They owned 3000 acres in the Rio Valley.Their farm produced vegetables and cotton .Qur original sponsor had orange groves and grapefruit trees and a bad season . Neither farms raised the Texas longhorn beef and had singing cowboys.The Lutheran church,StPaul Lutheran, took us under their protection too.The pastor O.C.Diers spoke German  The principal,H.C.Lohrmann and a teacher A.E. Square,at the St.Paul Lutheran School spoke German also. We were welcomed into the congregation in McAllen with open arms and love.It could not have be better. I had German speaking friends but learned the English language from my American-Texan friends quickly The school even mailed me the 8th grade diploma. I can claim a Texas education even though I left a month earlier for Belvidere,Illinois.So now when people ask me were I came from I answer with a straight face ...Texas. ..How-you-all...So long partner.

We Came By Sea

The big boat was waiting in the harbor.

Now we had to go back to the village of Harste near the city of Goettingen and put our affairs in order.We could only take what we as a family could carry and wear.The cheap suit cases would have to do.I still have one of them in possession.Mother of course had to bring her Singer sewing machine which is now in my niece's Karin hands.She is my older brother's daughter.I had to bring some books and I recently packed those away in the heavy boxes that are currently in storage.The family sold everything else what the market would pay or gave things away.It was crunch time.

We said goodbye--Aufwiedersehn--to family and friends and off to the train station.I think we walked a few kilometers since it would cost money for other transportation.I don't believe that it was hard for me to go away.No nightmares or questioning why we left in future years.My experiences during the 1947 and 1952 years is another story.My recollections are sweet and no regrets ever.I have gone back to Germany only twice during the 61 years in the Land of Promise.Those visits are remembered in pictures and will become other stories in the future.I think I took my books of tales,heroes and dreams of the future with me.Nothing is calling me back...nothing was left behind to go back to.I am an immigrant and the ground I stand on is HEIMAT--HOME.

After everything was checked and double checked and powdered, we were ushered on board of a Liberty ship called General Belloue...I don"t have the spelling right. I tried to find it with Bing & Google but no luck so far...I remembered my Mom having a post card of the ship but it seems to be misplaced.

What an experience getting on a big boat...the plank and the friendly crew.I think that we carried all our belongings on board...women one section and the guys in another.I don't remember what level I ended up but I do recall that it took several steps and levels to reach the deck on which the passengers were allowed on.The quarters were crowded and noisy and for food we all had to go to the galley located on a different level.

After all were on board and the ship ready to cast off , I heard a band playing and saw people on the rails on different levels and on the shore battery waving as the ship slowly pulled away.The band played Nun Adde Du Mein Lieb Heimatland...Now Goodbye My Dear Homeland.To this day the melody still brings back the emotions I saw around me.People crying and waiving for most of us it would be a long long time before we would return to those shores if ever or see the people that were waving back.I don't recall how I felt but as I write this down tears seem to form in my eyes.I think it is an adult reaction to the past and not my childhood remembrance of that time.It would take over 30 years before I returned to that divided Germany.At a later time that could be another story and with pictures too 
The fog horns blared and the band played and the ship plied the North Sea waves.We were on our way with a gentle roll of the waves and the gulls' cries all around us.As the shore faded into the distance we found out how unpleasant the April weather can be in this northern sea.I don't remember seeing the white cliffs of Dover.The ship glided through the English Channel and into the Atlantic Ocean. Now things got rough and stayed rough for 10 days.I got sea sick as everybody around me.It started the day my favorite food was served...chicken.It started out slowly and the first time I made it to the rail.Through the next two days it was awful.The cleaning teams could not keep up .The aroma alone would send me to the rail but many times I never made it.
After a couple of days I became used to the rolling and pitching action of the ship. The salt spray seemed to help get things to normal for me and my stomach settled down.

I spend 14 days on that ship and was introduced to many new things....cartoons (LooneyTunes)(Micky and Mini) and full length adult movies we were not supposed to see....we snuck in.Our ship did not go to New York ,so I did not see the Lady with the torch.It was years later in 1967 when I stood at her feet for the first time.I knew about her and the history involved from my high school choir days...”Give Me Your Tired Your’ Poor, Yearning to be Free”. My Mom talked about the movie The Blue Gardenia, I didn't see that movie until years later with the modern technology ...DVD on my own TV ( the flat TV had not been invented yet) and in my own house.The Land of Promise kept the bargain.
The ship sailed past the Bahamas and through the Keys of Florida but I don't know were and into the Gulf of Mexico .The gulf waters were blue and calm.I even saw dolphins greeting us.Maybe jumping for joy that we had arrived.  On through the delta of the Mississippi River to the Port of New Orleans we sailed.The shores looked so distant but my eyes adjusted with time.
On Mother’s Day ...May 10,1952, the immigrant stood with his two feet on solid ground that he would call Heimat..Homeland for the next 61years.

Does Uncle Same Want Us?

The journey begins to The Land of Promise.
My parents came to the conclusion that the future of the family could not be found in Germany or at best it was too dim to see.Dad's work in the forest did not show any advances or a challenge anymore.
Oma Pauline Fester had left for Canada and our Uncle Erwin Redschlag had applied for immigration to the USA and was on his way. Dad had considered immigration back in 1929-32 years but the depression years were just getting started. So here in 1951, he had a chance and the opportunity to  follow through with his young man's dream. Farm work and forest type work is all that Father knew. Factory work did not appeal to him for he could have applied at the Volkswagon Company.The reason for not applying at the factory was that housing for the family was not available. Maybe he felt that his education level of 8th grade was not good enough to compete on the factory floor.We never talked about the reasons to immigrate in detail. Years later when we all had a few at family gatherings, he did ask me..."Did I do the right thing for you by coming to America?" I gave him my straight answer..."Yes Yes Yes !!!". He seemed to be less agitated after that and the question was never raised again by him. I think he was finally at peace with his decision to immigrate. You see he had back-up too. His Uncle Christian Krebs ( his mother's brother) immigrated and his sister's family, Hulda and Martin Foerster immigrated to Canada.He also talked about a Kolewe cousin that left for Canada back in 1920s.
Mother was not happy in Harste,Germany.She had been a landowner and her own boss. The local people  made her feel like a second grade German.She knew more about farming then most of the local farmers in the village. Leaving Germany I felt was a blessing and a relief for her doubts about the future  for her family and herself. She was a smart and futuristic thinking woman.Of course she was my Mother and being landless was a pain hard to bear.You have to remember that she had a kingdom (her own farm) in 1939 that in the September of that year was taken away from her  by incompetent world politicians and generals that couldn't come to a peaceful agreement. My Mother did have a moment that created doubts in her mind about her decision to immigrate.The doubt arose in Texas when she saw all those barefooted migrant's kids,legal and illegals from Mexico, around a campfire eating tortillas and beans.Those Mexican families had been there for years and were still living in shanties and having supper by a campfire. This Land of Promise did not take care of its own people and is her family going to end up in the same situation? This life in Texas will be another story.
The papers were filled out and  the required pictures taken and the bundle submitted to the right authorities. Now the period of waiting began and plans were set into motion to be ready if the invitation comes for the interview by Uncle Sam.
The invitation came and off we all went to a camp that was isolated from the rest of the world for a closer examination of the history and well being of all members of the family.
The Germans do keep good  records someplace and the fire bombs had not destroyed them.The immigration authorities had everything my Dad and Mom had joined and signed.The examiner pulled out a document that had my Father's picture and signature.This document went back to the early 1930s when a nationalist movement arose among the Germans in Poland.Dad was single at that time and wanted to show that he was a good German even if it was Poland at that time. The examiner also had his military and POW records on hand. The question was "Did you belong to this organization?" My Dad answered "Yes...it was a church affiliated group!""Are you sure?" questioned the examiner .The room got tense and quite for my Dad had risen to his feet. At the same time another examiner leaned over to the questioning one and said something to him in English. Silence filled the room. " Okay, you are approved!"said the examiner.At that moment the direction of our destiny as a family was determined and set into motion. Maybe Uncle Sam was in that room too and had whispered into the examiners other ear "Don't be an idiot for I am getting a bargain which I will not refuse to accept".

After the American immigration officials had examined all information on the Kolewe family at this immigration camp facility near the city of Bremerhaven at the mouth of the Weser River in Lower Saxony,West Germany , and found us sound of mind and body and able to work and not be a burden for the taxpayers in the USA, we got the stamp of approval.

In the mean time the Lutheran Church World Relief Organization was looking for sponsors who would provide a job and housing for the potential new immigrants.Mom and Dad were given choices of different locations.They chose Texas.I am not clear how that choice was made but Texas was the biggest state in 1952.Maybe it was Uncle Sam's whispering during his days in the POW camp in Italy after peace had been declared .

While in the camp my 13th birthday came.Dad gave me some money as a present.At the camp's store I bought a big orange.That orange may have come from Florida but I don't remember a stamp or a label on that fruit.I shared the orange with members of the family but I don't recollect if that was willingly.
At the camp I also met other families who had made the same choice of leaving for America.One of the families had come from the same spot on the globe as I did,the Heinrich Wichner Family.Later I found out that they were heading for Kansas,USA.In later years I too went to Kansas during my college years as a runner to participate in the Kansas Relays.

My Three Grandmothers

My Three Omas

I did get to know my Mother’s Mother,Oma Auguste Hedwig Zarske

Redschlag,but did not see her again after we left for America in April of 1952.Her Father was Johann Zarske and Mother Ottilie Laske. Oma Auguste was born on March 25,189O.I don’t remember much about her as far as the songs she liked to sing or if she read the Bible. She did give me a taste of the sugar beet vodka they made in Harste. She had a stroke in her early 60s that withered her right hand.She had enough to do in raising a teen aged daughter,Gertrude,and two very active young men, my Uncles Erich and Erwin. Their interests were music( singing,accordion playing,motorcycles and girls.That could be another story to tell for they did try to impress me with their adventures.

My father’s Mother,Oma Katarina Krebs Kolewe, saw me last in 1944.I have no picture of her in my mind only from pictures retrieved from the snow in 1945 and others send to our family in later years.She was born on 3-11-1876 in the same village my Father August was born.Her Father was Johann Krebs and Mother was Anna Findling.I did get to meet her brother Christian Krebs,who had come to the USA with his family and settled in Lowel,Indiana.On my second visit to Germany, I stood beside her graveside.She had passed away on 3-11-65 in Wandersleben,Thueringen,Germany.She had lived out her last years with her youngest child and daughter Alma ne Kolewe Kuehn, my Godmother.

I consider Mrs. Pauline Fester as my third Grandmother.She is my personal adopted Oma Pauline Fester. She had the big book of pictures and stories. She also saved bread crusts in a long nylon or rayon sock for future use. Did she have a premonition that we would walk out of Poland? Oma Pauline kept an eye on us two boys left in her charge when Mother snuck out in the middle of the night in her attempt to reach West Germany. Oma Pauline also had connection with Canada and USA that I found out later.After getting out of Poland and living in Harste for a little while, she applied to join her relatives in North America.I was surprised that she left for her daughter,Hedwig ,grand-daughter and husband Paul Ruppel were living near by.Maybe, desire to be with her sister and nieces in USA was stronger.While in Harste she received care-packages from the Hinckley,MN. She received food and clothing. Among the clothing pieces were boy’s pants and shirts.Here in 1947, I was connected to the state of Minnesota that later became my Heimat for 46 years.Years later I was able to visit the congregation that send out these packages and reported that the pants fit and kept me warm.I was able to visit and talk to Oma Pauline’s nieces about her and what I remembered.

Maybe not having any grandparents around to spoil me during my early years,I feel the need to be around my grandkids as much and as often as possible.For better or for worse,another 14 years to go if I live as long as my Dad who reached 88years.Since the oldest grandchild is 10years old the chance to hold a great-grandchild may not be in the future for me.I just have to adopt my brother Diethard's great grandkids who live in Florida...he can spare some.Does anybody know if there is a ceremony for that?

Three Opas but only knew one

I was never held by my Opas or made their laps wet or screamed into their ears as loud as I could.My Mother's father Gustav Lenz died Nov.25 1925 and my Father's dad Wilhelm Kolewe died also in Nov of 1938.I was around but hiding in Mother's womb.I assume that I heard his voice...maybe he sang songs.I don't think he played an instrument. Opa Gustave Redschlag was Oma's second husband...that is why I have Uncle Erich(sick but still enjoying some food),Uncle Erwin(died and rests in Belvidere near my parents graves,Aunt Gertrude Redschlag Kern still living in Germany( she is the teenage girl that walked out of Poland with me in 1947),Opa Gustave and Oma Auguste are both gone and since it is over 25years ago,their grave sites are no longer viewable for someone else's stone is on that spot. Germany has limited land...that is why so many Germans lived and live someplace else.Some historians claim that the Germans were too pushy, the elbows too sharp and their feet too big in Eastern Europe.They did leave an imprint however..... for better or for worse.Finally many got the message.If you don't like us in the neighborhood we go someplace new....like Canada,USA,Mexico,South America...some went back to Germany proper like us but that was only a stopover.The native Germans objected to our presence and some like me(sensitive) were happy to leave for more promising neighborhoods.I guess I must have found a place for I stayed there for 61 years( since 1952) and even on one spot for 45years.Maybe the Native American Indians have a great old tradition...Uncles take care of their brothers' sons.Uncle Sam did take care of me and brought me up.It was in 1929-30 that my Father August Kolewe had the notion to come to Uncle Sam's neighborhood but he was starving and out of jobs.Later my Father argued with Uncle Sam in Italy..Pisa,Monte Casino..until Sam took him by the ear and put him into a POW camp,whispered to him and made him a brother.That is a new story by itself.

A brother sleeps in Poland

My brother Armwin:

In far away Poland in the town of Radziejow(Redichau) on a rising hill site my brother Armwin Kolewe was laid to rest in the year of our Lord 1944.He died on February 28 1944,from complications( diphtheria).I might have gone the same way but my system was evidently stronger and I survived and conquered the bugs as did my other two brothers...Diet(l0- months),Art(8yplus). I have pictures of all four of us full of smiles and one a formal one without smiles.I also have one of him laid out in the casket and Mother with a sad face looking down on him.As the story goes, in the last moments of his life he reached out to Mom and with words like" I hear or see angels" turned his face and was gone forever.The grave site I am told has vanished thru the years since I last saw it in 1946 only the hill site as you enter the gate to the cemetery.

Armwin was born on June 6,1940 so we were only 12 months apart...nearly twins. We were close and he was a constant companion of mine.He was also cuddled more in my opinion.I remember a thunder storm and he went to the parent's bed to get comfort and when I went to join him I was told that I was a big boy and need not to do that.I think I resented that and looked at him with squinted eyes.In an incident were a small broom handle fell on him or maybe I even hit him and he cried and ran to Mom...I felt you deserved that.When he died I think I felt guilty for a terrible feeling of that I wished him dead seemed to come from nowhere to my mind.In later years when I read my daughter's Abnormal Behavior Book I find that this does occur in sibling rivalry.Another incident occurred the year before when we went playing in a neighbor's Hoff(farm).The chained watch dog was not happy having two kids running around and he was chained to his dog house.Well...he broke the chain,bowled Armwin over and bit me on thigh and not him.I still have a small scar. Good thing that the dog did not have rabies.

If I ever visit Poland again, my destination will be that hill site to bring back a handful of dirt and sprinkle it over our Parent's gravesite in Belvidere.

Walk Out of Poland

Back in March of 1947, the idea of walking out of Poland crystallized in my Grandfather's (Gustave Redschlag) mind.He gathered Grandmother (Auguste),Aunt Gertrude,Frau Pauline Fester,my brother Diethard(4y) and me(8y)together and started the journey.My older brother Artur Lemke(12y) who was not in the same area was left behind.


 I think it was after midnight on a Saturday when Frau Fester took my brother Diet and me and some belongings and food and headed to the predetermined place in the country to meet my Grandparents (Redschlag) and Aunt Gertrude(teenager..14y).The timing was right and off we went into the night away from the villages we had lived in.Good thing that my Grandfather knew the area.We kept walking into the early Sunday morning hours. Opa felt that due to the important holiday(Ascension Day),most polish people would be off to church or sleeping and would not miss the german workers maybe until the afternoon.Our destination was the nearest train station. Opa spoke polish fluently and could get the tickets.

Opa got the tickets and we boarded the train bound for Poznan(Posen)....west west west away from the people that would recognize us.We looked like a family and blended in with all the other passengers on the train.Later I was told a different story.....a fellow traveler on the train had a different impression but his companion persuaded him to let the matter go....just a poor german family on the go....who cares were they come from or are going.

I don't know how long it took to get to the East German border...the river Odra(Oder) and the town of Szetzin(Stettin).The food supply was low but some how Opa managed to get us into a refuge camp and the right permissions to go to East Germany.I did walk through the ruins of Stettin...fallen walls,no roofs,burned buildings.On the walk I found somebody's picture of a grave site with a reave and a ribbon( Unser Vater)..I kept it and brought it with me on my journey.We received the papers and tickets for the train,boarded and crossed over to the west side of the river and away from Poland and fear.

By train we reached the town of Sonnenberg. At that time East Germany , Thueringen. I was sick of something ...ended up in an infirmary...it must not have been serious..the nurses and doctors got me going again...but better food and some rest did the trick.

In the mean time Opa was in contact with my Mom&Dad...another story. Mom took on the task of coming to ...East Germany without permission or papers...black over the border from West Germany from the village of Harste in Lower Saxony near the big town of Goettingen.Mom gathered us all up and our little troop again snuck in the night over the border to West Germany.I do not like to cross borders to this day and I never will. We were duly registered with the village authority(I have the dated documents).All of us lived in a single room offered to us by the family Engelhard.They even gave us a little Easter party...must have been the late version in the middle of April of 1947....so now our life began in West Germany

A Pole Comes to the Rescue

 A Pole comes to the rescue.

A polish farmer named Milzarek always was addressed as Pan(Mr) took Mom,Diet and me out of the camp.Mother was still weak from typhoid but it did not phase him and with time Mom got better with the help of Pan Milzarek's mothers chicken soup and other food.At the farm was also Mrs Pauline Fester(mid 60yrs)and another girl( about 20y).I lost track and name of the girl but not Mrs Fester(another story that ties me to Hinckley,MN).We lived in a garden house surrounded with an orchard and flowers.Mrs Fester had a history book with writings and pictures...I did not know how to read yet but loved the pictures...I think I came across a similar edition at the library of the German American Institute in St Paul,Mn.later in 1976...that somehow got lost when the library changed and the old books were thrown away because only a few knew how to read the old type Gothic script.I don't remember how I learned how to read but by 1946 I could read the German book...and my passion for books never grew old and during the move out of our house of 45 year earlier in March of 2013,my boxes became very... very heavy.Maybe Mrs Fester was responsible for my reading but Mom always told me that I loved books before I was six and I loved to stack them in a pile.I think Mom was the person behind my reading...she always was a good student herself and with a good memory...reciting passages from her confirmation days... late into her 80s.

After we got out of the camp,,,a coal depot converted to the holding camp(concentration) with barbed wire etc.and settled in the garden house at Pan Milzarek's farm,life seemed to be less stressful for us kids.We all became healthy again.The Germans who had been send to various farms in the region were able to see each other and stay in contact but freedom of leaving a place was not allowed and attempts were punished.The revenge fever settled down.However Poland had to be build up again and the use of German workers without pay seemed a good way without straining the budget.The farmers were requested by the local authorities to provide manpower as needed without stopping the work on the farms.Also trying to stay within lawful steps,the local authorities accepted any complains against any German person by any Polish person that may have suffered real or imagined harm during the German occupation period of 1939 to the end of the war and the liberation of Poland by the Russian forces in 1945. However the perpetrators were dead or vanished,so...minor cases were blown up to make it look good and lawful. If an accused person was convicted by a judge(no jury),he or she was send to forced labor camps anywhere in Poland.

Well...my Mom had been a boss on the farm and had employed several Polish workers from 1940 to the end of 1944.The workers were paid the going rate but if they were efficient more which was against the German authorities rules.One of the workers felt that Mom had ordered him around too much...like getting up in the morning to get the work done...and a complained was send in.Mother could not get the other workers from the farm to speak for her...they were not to be found and most would not come forward anyway fearing the accusation of German lovers.

So now Mom had a dilemma.If she faced the accuser without witnesses,she would be convicted and send away to who knows were and her children would be without her for some time which could be years.She made the choice to escape and leave the two younger boys in the care of Mrs.Pauline Fester.The older son Art was already miles away.Her parents were in the near by village and could maybe keep an eye on us too.Mom vanished into the night and ended up in West Germany.She has written down her journey in German which will become part of my story in the future.

On a Dusty Road In Poland

Mother was gone. Now what? The Pan was not happy and he had two kids on his hands.He had children too. I remember one name....Angie Milzarek..about 3years old near the age of my brother Diet.  I got a picture of him that my Uncle Erich Redschlag obtained during his visit to Poland many years ago.I tried to see if he was on F-book but no luck so far.This could be another adventure if I decide to visit POLAND to face the ghosts of the past for I have not made peace.If I do go it would be to meet him face to face and thank him that his father took us out of the concentration camp and to get a cup of dirt from my brother Armwin's grave side if I can find it. I want to bring back that dirt and sprinkle it over the resting place of my parent in Belvidere,Illinois so that the family can finally be united forever in the Land of Promise.This will the title of the book if it gets done...The Journey to the Land of Promise.

What was Pan Milzarek's solution?...He had heard of a camp for orphans in another area and so he hired a guy to drive us there.We were put on a wagon drawn by horses and off we went into the unknown country side.I don't remember how long the ride was but when we got there ...no camp.The driver did not want to go back.He had been paid and his job as far as he was concerned was done.It seemed like the Hansel and Gretel story...except we had two Hansels and we did not drop bread crumbs or stone pebbles to find the way back.Evidently somebody took us in and gave us shelter for a short time. It was summer and the weather was kind.We must have been near a bigger city for I remember big chimneys near by.The kids in the area knew we were Germans and they pointed at those towers and shouted that all Germans will be burned up at that place.My God the ghost of the past do not go away easily.Can I make peace with the past?...

How did we get back to the Pan Milzarek's farm? I really do not recall.My Uncle Erich Redschlag keeps telling us that he found us walking on a dusty dirt road near the village he was living in.Maybe we had a homing sense or a build in GPS.We ended up staying at Pan Milzarek' s farm for he did change his mind or heart or the local authorities pointed out to him that he could not dump us as he had first planed.

Time went by...we became older.I became useful as a herder of geese and slept in the horse barn for a while until Grandfather Redschlag decided it was time to leave Poland before we all became lost on those dusty roads.

There are some more memories of the period before we snuck away into the night.Mr.Fester,Mrs Pauline Fester's husband was working on a different farm...he was old, in the 70s,not treated well for he could not work hard or fast enough...probable was beaten,kicked around by his keepers...he died one night.Somebody dressed him up and laid him in the wagon that came by our farm and stopped to pick up his wife for the trip to the cemetery. I think he was buried in the same place there my brother Armwin was laid to rest.I didn't know better and curiosity made me climb up and take a look.

I also remember my first exposure to maize ...field corn at that time a new crop that the farmers were trying out.My future dance with corn and the Green Giant is another story.

Hate and Revenge take the lead

From 1945 to 1947.. 

Niemiec(Germans)[foreigner)... We were not allowed to go to school in Poland. We were on our own. No education for the Niemiec in Poland. I was six and turned  seven and no classes for me.Good thing Mrs Pauline Fester had a big book and I was interested.
I feel that was a big mistake on part of Poland.The Germans living among them had been there for hundreds of years.Only a few were hard nosed Germans.We were farmers and the interest for most was to worship in our own way and how big are the potatoes and how many pails of milk can I get from a cow.Give the foreigner a stake in the country and you have the greatest defender of the realm.
They(Poles) even tried to suppress the spoken language among us...in some regions...It seems that the hate and revenge depended on regions and individuals and how the Poles were treated during the German occupation and rule..In the area of Wartegau, Warta River valley and area,the Poles had been removed from their farms without compensation and 24 hr notice and the German farmers from the section of Poland that RUSSIA occupied in Sept of 1939 had been placed on their farms.The polish farmers and their families were removed to work camps and areas strictly for Poles only....mostly to cities and industrial areas.I heard comments that the food on the tables was still warm when the German farmers went to the assigned farms.From 1940 to the end of 1944,the Germans worked the polish farms and the polish workers who had worked for the polish farmers worked for the now german farmers while the polish owners worked in the factories.This was centralized planning from from the german ruling committee.The Germans left behind when the Russians took over followed by the new communist polish ruling committee...paid the price.

Concentration Camp

The concentration camp weeks in Radziejow(Redichau)

The concentration days or weeks are a blur... only a few vivid memories seem to linger...the moan of my old uncle Fritz Kolewe under the steps ,,,my old great aunt(my Uncle Johann Kolewe's Mother-In-Law dead body laid out on a board ,the bad food...my Mother coming down with typhoid...

With time the Polish authority came to their senses and stopped this revenge taking and offered the Polish farmers free labor...the Germans in the camp.They had to take the whole families and give them shelter,work and food...free workers were scarce and good treatment was up to the farmer.However...a 10y boy seemed to be regarded as old enough to be separated from his family...he would be only 10 to 15 km as a crow flies away from them...that is how my older brother Art was split away in June 1945 and left out of my journey until reunification thru the International Red Cross and International agreement to allow minors to join their families even if it meant going to West Germany...that happened in the middle of 1949...our family grew by two that year...my sister Gudrun was born in July and Poland lost a free laborer...my brother Art.He has never been compensated for the years he spend there...he has his own story to tell.

The Russian forces rolls over everything.

The war with its thunder and lightning embraces us all.

The encirclement of the German forces at Stalingrad in the winter of 1943 and its liberation by the Russian forces should have been a warning.This defeat was followed by the disaster at Kursk in the summer of 1943. The action there is regarded as the biggest tank battle of WW II.The long thin line from the Baltic Sea to the Black 

Sea could not be defended in any way.The mighty German dragon of the East had exposed its belly and was mortally wounded and bleeding to death.

The German command realized that the Russian forces could not be stopped or even slowed down in the northern and eastern areas of Europe desperation set in.

The Germans from the cities had an advantage of rail or boats but not for long to remove themselves from the conflict...not for the farmers who used wagons with horses for power.The rails were destroyed by the Partisans and the boats in the Baltic sea were torpedoed by the Russian subs.The retreating German forces took priority over the civil needs.The Russian tanks moved fast over the flat land and the air force squadrons bombed the cities.The Allied supplies reached the Russian forces and took full advantage over the undersupplied German forces.I saw the planes overhead theading west and the tanks came much later to mop up.The German farmers were forbidden to pack up and leave. Packing up and leaving is a sign of defeat.It was not until the fall of 1944 that evacuation plans were set up.The local civil command called up every male...14y and older....one rifle for every 100 civil soldiers...the Polish workers had to grab a spade and dig canals so the Russian tanks would get stuck...it did not work out as the planners wished...one tank filled the canal and served as a bridge.The civil forces were mowed down with the tank machine guns and later the canals served as graves for the frozen bodies stripped of boots and other useable items.Who were the looters? The local population did not see,hear or feel anything.Now they are all dead..maybe.My Mom worked to fill the canal graves with the civil defense bodies and the bodies of the Germans killed out of revenge by the local Polish militia forces with the red bands on their arms.The revenge period was slow to start...for Germany and Berlin had not fallen yet.Once the war was over...the Germans left behind paid the price....more beatings, raping and killings by the local people who felt abused by the Germans during the occupation period...the Russians moved on to capture Berlin and shake hands with American forces at the Elbe river and the locals took over.Most Germans (children,women and old men) were now rounded up and placed into concentration camps.They had to sew on  Swastikas on their clothing...one on the back and one on the front and march down the road to the jeers and boos of the local people.If the old men and women did not move fast enough,a stick or a boot or a push was used as a reminder.I was in that Trail of Tears and an uncle and aunt paid the ultimate price and are buried some were in that canal grave.Our family reached the camp with barbed wire and guards to keep the tired and exhausted people inside.

The spot on the globe

The area I was born: Wolhynia

The area of my birth is on the maps but the name of that region changed thru the centuries and the people living there belonged to a dozen or more ethnic groups. 
They came from someplace else.They left ,got pushed out or joined forces .If you put in the race factors,the pre Christian period, the major and minor religious affiliations, and the major and minor political aspirations that crisscrossed the rolling wooded and grass covered flat land you observe a boiling pot that constantly overflowed from blood,pain,disappointment,and fear.Yet the pot never became empty.At the bottom of the cauldron was always hope for a new beginning...the driving force of all immigrants.Give me a fistful of dirt and I will survive and live and my children will have a better life in the future.I call this a hands on view for my fingernails seem to show it. Later during the high school years (1954-57),the tests pointed to a career as a farmer and pastor.I became neither.I must say I love gardening in all forms .So.... that is close.As a profession I chose chemistry,sales and crafting.Now I do transplanting but that will change for I am moving into a second floor condo. My crafting will continue and I will weave the 16 pointed star until my fingers give out.I hope that I have taught others and will continue to teach others so that the star will remain long after I have vanished into the dirt.

If you look at the Eastern European map....Wolhynien(German),Volhynia (Polish)),Volyn(Ukrainian) Wolhynia (English). The big town in the area is Luck (Lutzk)....Some of the villages are gone...new villages and new names.The rivers such as the Bug, Styr and the Prepiat and the swamps are still around and had been mentioned by my folks. Northwestern Ukraine...South of Belarus (White Russia),one can get a topographic map too, new roads and railroads.

Poland ----Polska

Germany----Niemcy

Russia----Rosja

Glinischtsche---Gliniszcze/W of Kremenets , Rozhyshche,Volyn, Ukraine,was the village of my father's birth,August Kolewe on April 13, 1909.

Karolinowka (Karolinkow/W of Vitonizh) Rozhshche,Volyn,Ukraine

(village Ortwin Kolewe was born on March 24,1939 ( also spelled Karolinufka , Karolinuwka, Luck,Wolhynien,Ukraine)

Karloinow (Karolinowka/SE Kvasovylsia) Lutsk,Volyn,Ukraine is another village I found that exists today.

Wolhynien  or Wolynien---German                     

Volyn-----Ukrainian

Wolhynia --English                                   Lodomeriae --- Latin as it appears in Vatican papers

Volhynia----Polish

Voluine or Volyne-----Lithuanian