PICKING TOMATOES WHEN THE SKY WAS IN FLAMES by Fischer Smith Ursula Anna

Author:Fischer Smith, Ursula Anna
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Biographies
ISBN: 9781935125846
Publisher: Robertson Publishing
Published: 2010-06-09T16:00:00+00:00

Dangerous Games, 1945

Chapter 31

At dawn our street was deserted as we said goodbye to Father and Alfred when they left for the train station. Train schedules were unpredictable and the trip to southern Germany where Father grew up might take even longer than during the war.

“Heaven knows when you’ll be back,” Mother said.

“We’ll bring eggs and sausages back for you,” Alfred boasted.

Mother smiled. “That would be nice.”

With his older brother gone, Jürgen took off with his friends and Mother told me not to trail after them. Lonely and bored, with no one to play with, I went up the stairs to the boys’ bedroom and looked out the window. I had not been able to do that while the Verschleuss’ lived upstairs.

In the field behind our garden, a big bomb crater had drawn ground water. It looked like a little pond with grasses and reeds growing around its rim. Father wanted to leave it that way.

In the sky, above the coal mine, I saw two wild ducks flying in for a landing. They’d been coming to the pond for a while.

Father told me they were Mallards. The one with brown feathers and orange bill was the hen and the bigger one, with a shiny green head and a white stripe at its neck, was the drake. He thought that the hen was probably looking for a suitable nesting area in the surrounding rushes and weeds.

I loved observing the pair swimming side by side, flapping their wings and dunking their heads into the water with their tails sticking up in the air.

From the corner of my eye I noticed something orange flicker in the distance. I strained to see what it was. Are those flames? Flames have no legs and flailing arms. Oh my God, it was a person on fire, running toward the pond. The ducks flew off when he jumped into the water. Men raced after him, dove in and helped him.

Frightened, I shut the window and ran downstairs. Mother wasn’t in the house. When I opened the front door, I saw her with a policeman in the courtyard. I froze.

The policeman said, “Several boys were seriously burnt last week when they ignited magnesium strips in tin cans. Some are hospitalized. One of them will be disfigured for life.”

“That’s horrible,” Mother said. “The boys are bored because they can’t go to school, and there are no youth activities at church.”

“True,” the policeman said. “That’s probably why they’re combing through the fields looking for war mementos. They don’t realize how dangerous that can be. One youngster was killed when an incendiary bomb exploded in his hand.”

Mother’s hand flew to her mouth. “How terrifying!”

“That’s why we’re going from house to house warning parents. You need to talk with your sons. Tell them the police will pick boys up who are collecting bombs and take them to the station.”

“That’ll scare them. I’ll ask my husband to speak to them.”

“Auf Wiedersehen, Frau Fischer, I hope our schools and churches will be rebuilt soon.”

Quietly,

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