then

THERE, THEN Deutschland 1954

E-4, US Army, living off-post with dependent

background to the poem....German glossary

plain text version without hypertext jumps

There were other moments that seemed to sway

like revelers at Fasching arm in arm,

rising to entertain us, charge us up.

.....

German glossary

Fasching pre-Lenten carnival

Brötchen roll (little loaf of bread)

Bäckerei bakery

Flughafen airport

Messerschmidts German airplanes

Swastikas Nazi symbol

Frau Mrs.

Oberreinische Eisenbahn Gesellschaft Upper Rhine Railroad Company, streetcar operator

Goldener Hecht Golden Pike, name of restaurant

alte Brücke old bridge

Wasserturm water tower

Flasche bottle

Back to Stanzas.. 1... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6

background to the poem

I was a Private in the US Army Ordnance Corps when, following basic and technical training, I left on a troopship for Germany in January 1954 to complete my two-year military obligation. The Army assigned me to a field maintenance unit in the USAREUR Headquarters Area Command, in the Heidelberg area, where I filled the position of chief clerk.

It was nine years after the end of World War II. The post-war German "economic miracle" was some years in the future; our presence in Germany still had about it the feel of a social rescue operation. By employing many civilians, the US Army was helping people get back on their feet. In my unit, for example, several hundred Germans worked in the vehicle repair shops that 30 or so US Army people supervised.

We GIs enjoyed the easy opportunities to befriend the German locals with whom we worked.

The war against the Communists in North Korea--on hold with a cease fire declared while I was in basic training-- and the worldwide tensions of the Cold War of course gave urgency to our military presence in central Europe. However, from my point of view as a desk warrior in a comfortable office of a former German military post at the heart of the American occupation zone, the Iron Curtain was far to the east. I had no expectations of being sent to visit it.

Comfortable as it was, my tour of duty in Germany took a really happy turn in July 1954.

One weekend toward the end of my basic training, in September 1953, Margot had brought her wedding gown to Aberdeen, MD, and an indulgent Presbyterian minister in the little barracks town had performed the quick service. Afterwards, Margot had returned to college and I to my training program. When we had learned I would ship out to Germany instead of Korea, we had planned a grand delayed honeymoon in Europe for the summer of 1954. By then I would qualify for a three-week leave. She would return afterward to her first teaching job after graduating from West Chester State College.

While Margot was on her fourteen-hour prop-driven flight across the Atlantic in July 1954, a momentous policy decision changed the status of American forces in Germany. We ceased to be occupation troops and became guests of the German government. With that change came a whole new regimen for GIs. The key change for us was that, for the first time, enlisted men like me were permitted to live off-post with dependents. We hastily found a room in suburban Mannheim, near my barracks; Margot wrote home and begged out of her teaching contract; and she stayed for the year.

We had a fabulous year. With several other GI couples in the same circumstances, we reveled in a lighthearted domesticity, traveled on weekends, visited the nearby wine country. Occasionally we got serious about absorbing European culture but mostly just had a helluva time.

The poem tries to juxtapose that mood against the tough post-war realities for the Germans. With life opening before us like a Flasche of new Rhine wine, I'm afraid we dwelt seldom on the hardships of those around us.

...

1

There in Neuostheim, the Brötchen--made

around the corner at the Bäckerei

as dawn was breaking over the Flughafen

nearby, where Messerschmidts once spit their fire,

flaunting Swastikas--warmed our hands.

2

There our small room seemed a spacious palace.

As we stoked the corner stove with briquettes,

plots for devouring the yet-to-be--

Frau Breitner flushing the toilet we shared with her

across the narrow hall of her apartment--

were hatching in the way we drank and loved

(the perfect ease of love, white memory).

3

There in Weinheim once, the swans cruised

the town pond as if nothing had changed--

the Oberreinische Eisenbahn Gesellschaft

clanging its warning bell along the street--

since Frederick Barbarossa swung his sword.

4

There in Heidelberg we gaily dined

at the Goldener Hecht down by the alte Brücke--

the only casualty of war in town--

over the Neckar, half-persuaded someone

situated it for our delight.

5

There in Mannheim, the grand facades

around the Wasserturm remained fallen

ten years after Hitler's Reich exploded.

So what? we said, passing on the street--

our eyes on bunting on the topless tower--

the faces of Mannheimers masking their losses.

6

The cruel indifference of forward-looking

youth denied the rubble and pity left

from spent adventures, the follies of our elders.

Why should we weep at this? Those moments now

we see have thinned to insignificance,

leaving the wonder that we were there at all.

end

THERE, THEN

Deutschland 1954

E-4, US Army, living off-post with dependent

There were other moments that seemed to sway

like revelers at Fasching arm in arm,

rising to entertain us, charge us up.

There in Neuostheim, the Brötchen--made

around the corner at the Bäckerei

as dawn was breaking over the Flughafen

nearby, where Messerschmidts once spit their fire,

flaunting Swastikas--warmed our hands.

There our small room seemed a spacious palace.

As we stoked the corner stove with briquettes,

plots for devouring the yet-to-be--

Frau Breitner flushing the toilet we shared with her

across the narrow hall of her apartment--

were hatching in the way we drank and loved

(the perfect ease of love, white memory).

There in Weinheim once, the swans cruised

the town pond as if nothing had changed--

the Oberreinische Eisenbahn Gesellschaft

clanging its warning bell along the street--

since Frederick Barbarossa swung his sword.

There in Heidelberg we gaily dined

at the Goldener Hecht down by the alte Brücke--

the only casualty of war in town--

over the Neckar, half-persuaded someone

situated it for our delight.

There in Mannheim, the grand facades

around the Wasserturm remained fallen

ten years after Hitler's Reich exploded.

So what? we said, passing on the street--

our eyes on bunting on the topless tower--

the faces of Mannheimers masking their losses.

The cruel indifference of forward-looking

youth denied the rubble and pity left

from spent adventures, the follies of our elders.

Why should we weep at this? Those moments now

we see have thinned to insignificance,

leaving the wonder that we were there at all.