Mission Completed

I had a great trip with brother Dave touring Paris, Normandy, Amsterdam, Luxembourg, Bastonge, Kaysersberg and Heppenheim. It was great to see two very important spots in our Dad's war service, to be able to walk on the same ground, see the same terrain and know how he contributed to the Liberation of France and the destruction of the third reich.

It was also great to spend two weeks with my brother, on the same train, in the same car, at the same table, in the same hotel room, sharing a bathroom, no one to run interference or act as a buffer and not kill him or be killed by him. Oh we growled at each other a couple times, but for two guys with 47 years of ideosyncracies (his are way more annoying than mine) since our last trip together, we managed to tolerate each other very well, a lot like those two guys who went to Port Jefferson all those years ago, not just brothers but friends.

Thanks Dave for coming along. It was great to have such a good companion to share the experience with. And thanks Lil and Carrie for letting us go. It was the experience of a life time for us (and a good two week break for you). We owe you both.

Oh, by the way, I recommend to any of you traveling to Germany to try some Weiner Schnitzle, those schnitzengrubens will kill you.

Frau Breuker:

Heppenheim

On March 27, 1944, SSgt. Edward J. O’Rourke, exposed himself to enemy mortar fire and killed several enemy soldiers. He then exposed himself to enemy mortar fire again, crawled 25 yards to a road, stood in the middle of it and fired at a range of 75 yards, killing 4 of the enemy and wounding one, allowing his company to advance. I know this because I have a copy of the General Order authorizing his award of the Silver Star. Based on the information I have, it happened somewhere in this picture.

Heppenheim is a quaint little town untouched by the bombing that ravaged much of the other nearby cities: Mannheim, Frankfurt and Essen. I have a different feeling here than I did in Kaysersberg. This is Germany, enemy territory, and I am a little weary of mentioning the war or asking about monuments. The people are all friendly, they smile, wish you good day, they are no different than people anywhere, yet it just has a different feel for me than Kaysersberg. I took a lot of the old part of Heppenheim as it is ground my father may have walked on around a church he may have prayed in. I will cram in as many as I can.

The castle ruins from where I took the overhead shots of the town is on a high hill on the western end of Heppenheim. It dominates the area. Thankfully, it has an easy to find road that goes almost all the way up. There is a 200 meter walk from the parking lot up an access road ( God bless the Germans). The main tower has a spiral staircase to the top, affording a tremendous view of the surrounding area. There is no admission charge, no attendants. In fact, the only person we saw that came even close to looking official was a kid in an apron that gave us directions to the soda machine. We had each purchased a piece of wurst and sausage at the meat shop and a Kaiser Roll at the bakery and had lunch on a wall over looking the town. It began to sprinkle a bit just as we finished, so we trucked down to the car and bid Heppenheim auf veiderzane.

We spent the rest of the day in Heidelberg, another very picturesque place that wasn’t bombed.

Give Dave a uniform, he good for another 100 miles.

We are going to take that hill

On Sunday (9/21), during one our stops to take the view (and catch our breath) during our climb, I noticed a French Flag flying on a summit a couple kilometers northeasterly of Kaysersberg. I thought it might be a cemetery, but in all our conversations with locals trying to find WWII landmarks or points of interest, no one mentioned it. Dave and I decided on our way out of town, we were going to get up there. This turned out to be no easy task. We could not see a road running up the hill. There were no signs anywhere pointing in that direction or mentioning a cemetery or monument of any type. I search through Gertie’s databanks but was unable to find anything. We drove around hell’s half acre trying to find a way up. We pretty near circled the summit, hitting nothing but dead ends driving up and around that grape vine covered hill. We finally found a road that ran southerly along the bottom of the hill and I spotted the Stars and Strips flying on the same summit. Now we had to get up there. We kept to the right and found a road up, another dead end. It was now 1pm and we were running out of time. We found another road heading up through the vines. There was an obstruction with a sign on it that a reasonable man might take to mean not to enter. We parked, got out, started up the road and realized we didn’t have time to walk it. Command decision, we are taking this hill. Back to the jeep, there is enough room to drive around the barrier. Dave was a little nervous but I said if some stops us, just point up the hill, keep talking in English and be oblivious. The road was sound and took us to the top and into a parking lot. Our efforts, daring and perserverance were rewarded. There in front of us was a monument to the 3rd Div., 36th Div. and several others. We had lunch by the monument, some terrine we had bought in the meat shop on a baguette from the bakery. We could not have been happier. Our mission in Kaysersberg was accomplished.

I never talked to my Father about his war experience. He didn’t tell war stories and died when I was 15. Any family members who might know something are deceased. So I didn’t have a landmark to look for, no specific place I know he was. But I know that he was here. He was wounded on December 16, 1944 and on the next day, did something that got him a Bronze Star with the V for valor. The town is in the same place, the roads have the same stone pavers, most of the buildings were here. I can walk on the same streets, see the same terrain and go in the same buildings. There is a good chance he might have gone to Mass in the church. The pictures below are so you can be here too.

Sunday, when I checked into the hotel, I told the owner, a woman in her mid fifties, that my Father was a Liberator, fought here in Kaysersberg, was wounded and I had come here to see where he fought. Monday, when I checked out, she introduced me to her 30ish daughter and said, “His father was a Liberator, he fought here for us”.

Kaysersberg

We arrived in Kaysersberg just before 3 p.m. and checked into our hotel, Les Ramparts. We stowed our gear and quickly set out into the town to have some lunch and then tour the town. I had the standard baguette of jambon, fromage, pickles and moutard, washed down with a glass of local brew. My father was wounded here on December 16, 1944 and awarded the Bronze Star with a V for Valor on the 17th so our plan is to walk around as much as possible figuring that at some point, we have to trod over some ground that he trod on during his time here. I asked the Mademoiselle who served the sandwiches if she knew where there were any WWII monuments and she mentioned the Musee (Albert Schweitzer Museum) and the Chateau, which high on a hill right behind the town.

A quick recon of the town revealed no WWII monument but the main street heading north towards Colmar is named Rue de 18 Decembre, which is a start. We decided to climb the hill to the chateau (this is wine country and the hillsides are all planted with vines), only about 200+ feet up. A few inquiries got us pointed in the right direction. As we cut around the back of the church, we found the graves and a memorial to 18 French Soldiers (1st Div), all of whom died on 18 Decembre, 1944, so it would appear that the street of the same name has no relationship to the 3rd Division.

We climbed the stairs up to the chateau, and then up above it to see if we could get a shot of the town. We worked our way to a dirt road that ran across the hill, providing access to the vines that covered the hill. We took some shots and walked back towards the steps. Dave discovered a steel reinforced concrete structure built into the side of the hill that looked like a pillbox. It appeared to go back into the hill. We climbed around to the back and found where it came out. I thought it could have been an aquifer, used to channel water for the vines or control runoff. We found some block and mortar structures later that were just that, but this was steel reinforced concrete.

After some debate, we decided to climb to the top of this hill. Twenty minutes later, drenched in sweat, we reached this cell phone tower and a road. We took the road heading down, and eventually came out right behind our hotel. After a long hard climb and a long walk down, we had worked up quite a thirst. And there’s only one way to slake a thirst like that.

A little before 9pm, we went down to have dinner at a place recommended by the desk clerk. We got there, studied the menu posted outside the door, waltz in and were advised the kitchen was closed. Disappointing to say the least as the menu looked great and we were a tad hungry. We were now quite concerned that we were too late to eat in town and faced with the prospect of a long night, or driving 10+ kilometers to Colmar and end up eating at the embassy (McDonalds—giving the nickname “the embassy” by Nick in Santiago). We went to the restaurant next door, sorry, closing, try the place on the corner. Fortunately, they were still open. We ordered fois gras, pork (actually ham) with potato salad, venison stew and pigs knuckle mit der kraut. The venison stew was incredible and was served with a red sauerkraut and a doughy pasta. The ham came with the best potato salad I have ever had and horseradish. The horseradish was like wasabi, absolutely fantastic. There was some discussion over the pigs knuckle and our French being as deficient as the wait staffs English, no one new wtf. It seemed to us they were telling us it was huge, a lot to eat, but we said ok bring it anyway. We got the first three items and had pretty much polished of the Pinot noir (Alsace), so we ordered another bottle. Out comes the wine, yes it’s fine, fill the glasses and then the waiter is asking if we want desert. No, bring out the pigs knuckle. No, no, no pigs knuckle, we thought you didn’t want it. Merde! !@*$#% merde. We had already seen the cooks come out of the kitchen so we knew we were screwed. C’est le vie. Nothing to do but drink the wine and forget the tip. But I was really looking forward to that pigs knuckle.

On our way to Kaysersberg, we decided to stop in Metz, as Patton left for near there to go to Bastogne, so it seemed to fit. We were only there an hour, but we had a nice chat with a guy from Germany who obliged us with a picture.

After dinner, we took our bottle of wine to an outside table to finish it. Dave went back across the street to the first place we tried for dinner (they still were serving café and drinks) to make some inquiries about the 3rd Div. (their English was pretty good) but didn’t have much luck. A few minutes later, the kid to whom he was talking came across the street and gave use some info on a Third Div site in Muenster. He then came back a second time, apologizing for the intrusion and gave us some more info. Hey kid, no problemo.

Vas ist dis Nuts?

The Germans were a bit confused by General Mac Auliffe’s answer to the surrender demand. The Germans, obviously, were not up on American slang. An inquiry was made as to whether “Nuts” was an affirmative or negative answer. They understood the answer to the second question, [strictly negative]. The 101st Airborne held at Bastonge until the weather broke and Patton arrived.

We left for Bastonge about 10am, grabbing a little extra and badly needed shuteye. With Gertie setting our course, our first stop was the American Cemetery in Luxembourg. After a ten minute ride, we viewed the cemetery, paying our respects to the GI’s buried there and to General Patton, who is also buried there. Patton’s grave is separate from the rest of the graves, presumably because of all the foot traffic to see it.

Next up was Bastonge, about an hour Northwest and just over the Belgium boarder. We parked in Mac Auliffe Square and took the obligatory pictures with the tank and the jeep. This one is in Mac Auliffe Square, this is our ride ( I had reserved a Passat, but we got the Jeep; seems appropriate given this is a WWII tour). We then had the obligatory beer at “Le Nuts Café” (I had a Leffe, Dave, my driver, had espresso). We then toured the main drag, visited a church near the end of it and bought a Sandwich chaud ala Bastogne (baguette, ham, cheese, tomato sauce grilled like a panini). We also stuck our noses in a few shops, checking out the butcher, a deli and a pastry shop.

We then set off for Wiltz to see the Musee de battalion, Gertie guiding the way (thanks again Lil). The musee is in a chateau that is built right on and into the rock. It is a great collection of memorabilia and contains a lot more German stuff than those in Normandy. We stopped to have a coffee at the little café just below the Musee (and a part of the complex). The owner was behind the counter pouring himself some cognac (and I would guess not his first of the day) and invited us to have one with him. We didn’t want to appear rude, and always seeking to improve Anglo-Belgian relations, we obliged. “Good ya?” Oh ya, smooth as a baby’s bottom. He wasn’t drinking the cheap stuff. “Made in Luxembourg” “Very good. To your health. merci”. We finished or cognacs and drank our coffees and then set off for Malmedy, bound for the Baugnez 44 Historical Center and the monument to Malmedy Massacre.

The museum is very well done and contains a lot of mannequins in uniforms and in reenactment displays. Oh, and this pinup girl collection. They have some great stuff and divide it pretty evenly between American and German.

The Malmedy Massacre Monument is located about 100 yards from the museum (which devotes a whole section to the massacre) at the intersection where it took place, 4 kilometers from Malmedy. A company of Americans intercepted a Waffen SS Panzer Company on December 16, 1944. The “Bulge” had just started. The Americans, not being combat infantry and badly out gunned, surrendered. The SS, decided they didn’t have time for prisoners and after the GI’s were disarmed, they were lined up and machine gunned. The US Army plaque refers to the event as a massacre, which it was. The Belgian plaque refers to the GI’s as being victims of Nazi cruelty, a bit of an understatement.

By the way, did I mention we ran into Omar Bradley?

Touring Amsterdam on the African Queen

Amsterdam is a city of 750,000 with a system of canals that give it a spider web look on a map. We got a first and look at the canals as our host, Fox Mulder, met us at the train station in his boat. I had barely stepped off the dock when I was handed a badly needed beer and the grand tour began. It took about 20 minutes to putter up the canal to Fox’s house. Fortunately, I was able to off load our bags without dropping them or me in the drink. Fox’s house sits along the canal and is quite narrow, maybe 20 feet wide. But it is tall, 6 stories including the basement, which is at street level. I am in the penthouse and Dave is on the floor below me. You make your assent up a series of steep, spiral staircases that were made for people with slightly smaller feet than my size 13 gunboats. The ceilings are 9+ feet, so you get a work out, especially with a suitcase.

Bicycles are a major mode of transportation in the city and the bridges are line with them. It is unusual to see one that is less than twenty years old, and most are in the 30-40 years old range. People ride with a purpose and you need to keep a sharp eye out. No one wears a helmet, and veering and weaving are preferred to slowing or breaking. There are also motorscooters. Think bicyclist on steroids. Of course many people walk and there are also trams. They all go to the Central train station. Although people do have cars, both parking and gas are pretty expensive, the traffic is pretty light.

We slept in this morning having had a late night and some long days with short sleep. We hit the street about 11:20 am seeking caffeine and a croissant. A couple of espressos later, I was primed and ready to see the sights. One of the main attractions is, of course, the Anne Frank House. The line was around the corner and looked like it was at least an hour long so we figured we would continue to wonder rather than spend time in line and come back later, assuming neither of us was nailed by a bicycle. We had lunch at a café with tables across the street along the canal. The streets are more like driveways, paved with bricks and only about 8 feet wide along the canals. I told the waitress that I would like a sandwich and a beer and please bring me whatever local people would have. I got a ham sandwich and a Heineken. So far from Syracuse, yet so close.

A second pass by the Anne Frank House revealed that we were not the only ones with the come back later when the line is shorter idea. We opted to continue wondering. We checked out a butcher shop and sampled some called er, eh, well it’s called something with way to many letters in it but tasted a lot like a meatball. We also checked out a slice of authentic New York Pizza. The crust was a little doughy for NYC but not a bad slice. We decided we should check on the location Piepers Bar, a little joint that holds about 50 people plus tables across the street along the canal, as we were to meet Fox there at 5:30. We found it pretty easily as it is just up the street from Fox’s house. We also figured we should confirmed that the beer was drinkable. Roger that Houston.

After some more wondering, we met Fox at the appointed time and were joined by Hendrick, another Getronics guy. We quaffed a few beers and then went to a place down the street for dinner. We finished up at a place called the Café American, attempting to add a little authenticity to the place.

Tomorrow, the train to Frankfurt and rental car to Luxembourg. And nothing screams tourist like a school bus yellow bicycle.