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IN THIS ISSUE

• Les Davison is helped by the valiant Dutch underground
• We continue Ernest Blaschke's story of wartime life in Vienna
• Zvonko Springer had one of the radios mentioned in Ernest's story
• Bruce Galway's story is about a driver's encounter with a camera
• Jack Peaker forwards some thoughts on marriage
• It pays to do your homework!
• The editor muses on pictures, flowers, handicapped flyers, plumbers, and floods
• Catherine Green, Jack Peaker, and Marilyn Magid recommend websites

Les Davison and his companions discuss escape with the Dutch underground in his

WARTIME MEMORIES

Our evenings on the farm were spent discussing ways and means of crossing the Rhine, which was about 20 kilometres to the south, as we knew that the south bank of the river in this area was held by Allied troops. However, this was not going to be easy as all civilians had been evacuated from an area approximately ten kilometres parallel to the north bank of the river and this area was, in effect, the front line of the battlefield, heavily populated by German troops of all kinds. Any attempt to get to the river and swim across, which was my own answer to the problem, meant passing through these enemy forces without being detected.

Willems, Jan, and other underground members would be part of these conversations from time to time and tried to convince us not to try it alone. They said that without the help of the underground as guides we would surely be caught and thus would endanger their organisation and themselves. Their fear was that we would be interrogated and probably tortured into revealing where we had been hiding for the last three months. The underground were in touch, by radio, with the Allies and were positive that another attempt to ferry the escapers and evaders across the river would be made soon.

Two previous actions had met with two completely different results. "Pegasus One" was the code word for the first scheme to repatriate the numerous evaders who were wandering around the countryside immediately after the battle. About 150 were gathered in various hiding places and around the end of October were ferried across the Rhine by Allied troops from the south side under covering fire. "Pegasus Two" was to be a similar operation whereby about 120 escapees of all kinds, paratroopers, Allied airmen who had been shot down, and glider pilots were going to be ferried across the river. This operation, of which I was part, has been described earlier in this narrative and was a complete disaster, due, I understand, to someone giving the whole game away to the Germans.

Jan and Willems were insistent that we not try to get home alone, but I was equally insistent that I wanted to be home for Christmas. I pointed out that as there were no immediate plans to get us across the river, we should be allowed to try. They finally agreed that we could try on our own. However, this brought up a problem: Vic could not swim and I had half promised him that I would not go without him. Our problem was solved the next day when one of the "Onderduikers" brought us a one-man rubber dinghy. This had been retrieved from one of our aircraft which had been shot down in the vicinity, and was just what we needed. Tex, Vic and I unpacked it, blew it up with the attached hand pump, and put it in the duck pond. However, when we all tried to get in it promptly sank, and it was obvious that all three of us could not get across the river in one trip. As two trips were out of the question, it was decided that Vic and I would go and Tex would stay behind and take his chances with the resistance.

Sgt. Keith (Tex) Banwell was captured. He then escaped from a train after knocking out his guards. Making contact with the Dutch resistance again, he helped them plan the succesfull ambush of German troops, wiping out an entire unit. Tex was an ex-commando and ex-member of the Long Range Desert Group. More details about 'Tex', who became very famous and is the record holder of most jumps, can be found in google. 'Tex' died at the age of 80 in July, 1999, and was saluted by his comrades with a traditional maroon baret on his funeral.

After some discussion with Jan and Wynand, it was decided that we would leave the next evening, December 5th, and that Wynand would take us on bicycles as close to the river as possible. After that we would be on our own. The next evening, after saying our goodbyes to the family and Jan, we set off with Wynand in front in the usual fashion, Vic carrying two fence posts and I carrying a burlap sack with the boat in it. After about a half hour, Wynand stopped and waved at us to come to him. We were at a T-junction of the main Utrecht-Arnhem road and a much narrower road running south. Wynand pointed down the small road, said, "Daar is de Rhine", shook our hands and wished us the best of luck.

Vic and I carried on, riding our tire-less bicycles for about another 15 minutes, at which point we were challenged, out of the pitch blackness, with the words, 'Wer Dah!" I took this to be the equivalent of our "Who goes there!" and motioned to Vic to keep quiet and ride like hell. However, I suppose Vic was so excited about being so close to getting away, that he shouted something unprintable at the challenger, who promptly started firing a rifle in our direction. It was apparent that as we could not see the sentry, he could not see us as it was very dark and sleeting. We pedalled as hard as we could and, fortunately, there was no hue and cry and the firing stopped.

I suggested to Vic that we should dump the bicycles as the noise made by the tire-less wheels was quite loud. We were obviously right into the enemy lines and probably would not be so lucky next time we encountered any of them. He agreed so we dumped the bicycles in the ditch and started walking. This of course, slowed us down considerably and it soon got to five a.m. with no river in sight. We discussed our situation in view of the fact that it would soon be getting light and decided to find a place to hole up. Our intention was to carry on as soon as darkness fell.

To be continued.

We continue with the story Ernest Blaschke wrote about

LIFE IN VIENNA DURING AND AFTER WW II

During 1944 and the beginning of 1945, Vienna experienced daily air raids by Allied bombers during the day. A routine developed for this. At about 9 a.m. the planes would fly in from the south, and when they were spotted, a cuckoo's call would sound from the radios, followed by an announcement that enemy planes had just crossed the border. A few minutes later, air-raid sirens would sound and people would seek shelter.

There were basically three types of shelter:

1. A basement in your own house (actually most buildings were apartment buildings). This was considered risky. A direct hit would probably leave you buried in the rubble.

2. An underground network of tunnels built in Roman times under the inner city of Vienna, often three storeys deep underground, and considered to be quite safe. Some people would take the tram or bus each morning into town, spend the air-raid hours in these tunnels, then return home by public transportation, if it was not damaged, or on foot. Most repairs to essential services would be carried out quite quickly, often during the night.

3. There were two huge cylindrical concrete towers (bunkers) built in the city. They had extremely thick walls, and the flat roof had enormous anti-aircraft guns placed on it. These structures were considered totally safe, since they were said to be able to withstand direct hits - which they never received.

Towards the end of March 1945, the Allied air-raids ceased. This was a clear sign that the front-line fighting was coming closer: the Russians approached the city from the east, and the US and British planes kept clear of the front lines. Russian planes were few and far between and were used for reconnaissance.

The invasion routes were mainly from the east. Much of the Alps was in the southern part of the country, neutral Switzerland was in the east, and the rest of Germany lay to the north, making these directions unsuitable for an invasion of the country. The inhabitants of Vienna were considering their future. Their choices were to stay where they were or to move to the western part of the country.

The first choice was preferred by those who felt there was little point in leaving their normal surroundings and possessions to flee to some other region which would probably suffer a similar fate later one. This was the choice made by my immediate family.

The second choice was preferred by those who had been active Nazis and were quick to realize that they would face very severe treatment by the Russian occupation forces. The Russians had suffered greatly under German occupation early in the war and Nazi sympathizers were going to have an equally rough time. As a result, almost everyone who belonged to the Nazi party or who was known to have been a Nazi quickly took the last trains from the city heading west.

Trains heading for Vienna were empty; those leaving for the west were filled to overflowing, with people travelling on rooftops and anywhere on the cars where they could find a place. As it turned out, Nazis made the correct choice in opting to move to parts of the country which would eventually be occupied by American forces. They had a relatively easy life there and were not bothered by anyone. This choice was also made by other members of my family for the reasons outlined.

To be continued.

Zvonko Springer fondly remembers the people's radio,

THE VOLKSEMPFAENGER

mentioned in Ernest Blaschke's article in the last issue. He calls it the Vemp for short, and writes this:

Allied Forces landed on Normandy's beaches on D Day, June 6, 1944. About that time I went on home leave to Osijek, just before my 19th birthday. The town was hit hard by bombing by the U.S.A.F. two days prior to my arrival. My father, a well-known lawyer there, somehow had managed to purchase a radio for me to carry back to the military training camp in Stockerau near Vienna.

Any radio had to have a seal on its back cover showing that the short wave length (SWL) had been incapacitated. However, you could bridge this gap with a short wire using a small splice to bring in short wave.

During WWII, we were not allowed to listen to short wave at all. Anybody who was discovered listening to the BBC or Swiss Radio Beromuenster had to expect severe punishment, or even deportation (close to a death penalty). Such was the case with listening to radio news in all German-controlled or occupied territories. My father had a large Telefunken radio incapacitated in the same way, with a bridge-over splice, almost through all WII. He had to turn down the BBC's signal of "BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOOM" each time he wanted to hear it. It was always dangerous to listen.

We had to return from our leave to our barracks in Stockerau a fortnight later. I carried the radio in the middle of a sack of provisions, and after an eventful and very hot journey, we arrived back at barracks.

Some weeks later in Stockerau we were attending a lecture on military strategies. A German senior officer held it in a large room with a few maps on a wall. His face was badly damaged but his eyes looked at us sternly and with some sorrow. He was explaining the Allies' strategies on Normandy's peninsula regarding their efforts to cut it off from the rest of France when one comrade said aloud: "It has happened already!" Dead silence followed for few seconds; then the officer asked, "HOW DO YOU KNOW THIS? - OKW DID NOT REVEAL THIS!" (OKW translates as "Supreme Army Command". )

Nobody dared explain, though it wasn't necessary. Later, back in our rooms, the Vemp's wire-bridge was instantly removed and stowed away. Fortunately, there was no inspection afterwards. OKW admitted the German Army's defeat in Normandy the same day. Soon after there was an unsuccessful attempt at killing Hitler and our stupidity was forgotten.

What happened to the Vemp, you may wonder. I left it with our relatives in Zagreb and after the end of the war, it served me well for many years during my studies at the University of Zagreb. It played mostly classics like Bach, Beethoven, et al, drowning out the noise from outside. It finally broke down some time after we were married in 1951.

Dear Vemp, you served me so well I've written this story thanking you for your long service. Who knows where yours indestructible Bakelite casing decays now?

ED. NOTE: To read the whole unedited story of Zvonko's radio and to see pictures of those ancient machines, go to http://www.cosy.sbg.ac.at/~zzspri/; choose "Zvonko's Life Stories", and you will find under No. 8, "Vemp and BBC News of 20th July 1944".

Bruce Galway forwards this story of a

ONE-TRACK MIND

A man was driving down the road, and as he passed a traffic camera, he saw it flash.

Astounded that he had been caught speeding when he was doing the speed limit, he turned around and, going even slower, he passed by the camera.

Again, he saw it flash. He couldn't believe it, so he turned and going a snail's pace, he passed the camera.

AGAIN, he saw the camera flash. He guessed it must have a fault, and home he went.

Four weeks later he received three traffic fines in the mail, all for not wearing a seatbelt.

For every person with a spark of genius, there are a hundred with ignition trouble.

Jack Peaker sends these reflections on

MARRIAGE

You have two choices in life: You can stay single and be miserable, or get married and wish you were dead.

At a cocktail party, one woman said to another, "Aren't you wearing your wedding ring on the wrong finger?" "Yes, I am. I married the wrong man."

A lady inserted an ad in the classifieds: "Husband Wanted." Next day she received a hundred letters. They all said the same thing: "You can have mine."

When a woman steals your husband, there is no better revenge than to let her keep him.

A woman is incomplete until she is married; then she is finished.

A little boy asked his father, "Daddy, how much does it cost to get married?" Father replied, "I don't know son, I'm still paying."

A young son asked, "Is it true, Dad, that in some parts of Africa a man doesn't know his wife until he marries her?" Dad replied, "That happens in every country, son."

Then there was a woman who said, "I never knew what real happiness was until I got married, and by then, it was too late."

Marriage is the triumph of imagination over intelligence.

If you want your spouse to listen and pay strict attention to every word you say - talk in your sleep.

Just think, if it weren't for marriage, men would go through life thinking they had no faults at all.

First guy says, "My wife's an angel!" Second guy remarks, "You're lucky; mine's still alive."

"A woman's prayer: Dear Lord, I pray for wisdom, to understand a man, to love and to forgive him, and for patience, for his moods. Because Lord, if I pray for strength, I'll just beat him to death."

NOT ALL ANSWERS ARE CREATED EQUAL

Mr. Perkins, the biology instructor at a posh suburban girls' junior college, asked during class, "Miss Smythe, would you please name the organ of the human body which, under the appropriate conditions, expands to six times its normal size, and define those conditions?"

Miss Smythe gasped, then said freezingly, "Mr. Perkins, I don't think that is a proper question to ask me. I assure you, my parents will hear of this," and sat down red-faced.

Unperturbed, Mr. Perkins called on Miss Johnson and asked the same question.

Miss Johnson, with composure, replied, "The pupil of the eye, in dim light."

"Correct, Miss Johnson," said Mr. Perkins.

"And now, Miss Smythe, I have three things to say to you. One, you have not studied your lesson. Two, you have a dirty mind. And three, you will some day be faced with a dreadful disappointment."

RANDOM THOUGHTS FROM THE EDITOR

To all those who commented favourably on the picture of me in front of a spectacular bed of tulips in Ottawa, my thanks. Especially to all the men who made flattering remarks about the "movie star", thank you for your blarney. I didn't believe a word of it, but I enjoyed it all.

The weather during my visit to Ottawa was a mixed bag, just as it has been here at the wet coast for so long. One day there was a high of 27 degrees; another day it reached only 8 degrees. My poor daughter had to cope with a mother whose temperature tolerance is much diminished, and while I was freezing, she was enjoying the brisk weather in her shirtsleeves.

The tulips were in full bloom while I was there, and the cherry blossoms went from buds to blowing pink snow. The crabapple tree in Judith's front lawn was a delight. I enjoyed two springs this year - the first here, where the flowers bloomed in spite of the cool weather, and in Ottawa, where I was just in time to appreciate them again.

Jude somewhere got the idea that I should be getting exercise every day, so she insisted I accompany her and her two dogs to the off-leash area. While she and I strolled some three blocks, the dogs ran about 10 miles. At least they got their exercise. We went through the wooded paths and looked for jacks-in-the-pulpit and trilliums. The jacks were scarce and shy, but Jude photographed a big bed of trilliums which were thriving in spite of the dogs racing through them. Mosquitoes were not yet a problem, but shortly after I left, they came out in hordes, and Jude was concerned about the ineffective repellants she had for the dogs.

On my return flight with WestJet, I requested a ride with their welcome wagon on the Vancouver end. The walks are endless, and after a long flight in a cramped position, I feared that it would be more of a crawl for me. I was surprised to be offered a wheelchair when I arrived at the checkout desk, and when I declined the offer, we were told that Jude could accompany me to the loading bay. We strolled around the shops in the area and I bought a couple of last-minute gifts, and then we were loaded. I was agreeably surprised to find I had been given a front seat, where I could stretch out my legs and even put my feet up on the wall in front of me. Such luxury, compared with the tiny seats that seem to get smaller every year! After a long and uneventful flight, we landed in Vancouver in the pouring rain, and after everyone else had deplaned (!), another older woman and I were whisked by wheelchair up to the waiting welcome wagon, and then deposited close to the barrage arrival. My suitcase had just appeared as I arrived, and I was able to get a taxi almost immediately. After an interesting conversation with the East Indian driver, I got home at 11 p.m. I have decided that from now on when I travel, I will be one of those tired old people who ride while others walk.

I came home to find that the plumbers who were replacing the copper pipes in this old apartment building had not yet reached my suite, and all the stuff from under the sinks was still sitting where I had left it. But that is another story, and someday I may even tell you about it. Here I will say only that the work is not yet finished, though the holes in the bathroom are supposed to be dry walled today - or tomorrow ... or sometime next week.

Here in BC we are living in interesting times. The hot weather caused the extra-heavy snowpacks in the Interior to melt suddenly, and the water is now rushing down the rivers, threatening to flood homes and farms along the way. Some places in the north are already under water, and people here in the south are preparing for the arrival of the crest sometime this weekend. Thousands of people are standing by to help with sandbags or evacuations or whatever else is necessary, and there will undoubtedly be many stories of strangers performing acts of kindness and heroism in aid of others. Tragedies seem to bring out the best in human nature.

Catherine Green forwards this url for a video that shows 500 years of paintings of women:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nUDIoN-_Hxs

This site recommended by Jack Peaker shows how to do just about anything:

http://www.ehow.com/

Marilyn Magid forwards this suggestion for some really cool animation:

http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/34244097/

"A person without a sense of humor is like a wagon without springs - jolted by every pebble in the road." - Henry Ward Beecher