The Fighting 69th Infantry Division Association, Inc. Vol. 57 No. 3 ...

GERMANY (Continued from Page 26)
von Braun, Hitler's former rocket scientist, to the
White House to discuss the possible moon explorations.
I learned then that the two von Brauns were
brothers. I forwarded my snapshots of that day in the
Vatican apartment to Dr. Wernher von Braun. He
answered with a friendly letter, thanking me for the
pictures, adding that he was sending them to his
brother, who was now Chief of Protocol for the West
German Government in Bonn.
Just as a casual reflection, this was the first time
that someone who had aimed bombs at me in London
sent me a friendly letter.
Within a week all of us were at work again in
Nuremberg. One peak in working for the United
States government was the liberal leave time. Every
so often a three-or four-day weekend gave us an escape
from Nuremberg's bleak ruins into the countryside.
It was on one of these mini-vacations that I packed
a small overnight bag and headed toward the nearby
Autobahn or highway. As I walked along the roadside
and saw an Army vehicle heading my way I'd raise my
thumb, hoping for a ride.
All of a sudden a GI in a two-and-a-half-ton Army
truck pulled onto the side for me. As I climbed in he
said, "Buddy, I'm only going as far as Ingolstadt."
"Thanks," I answered, not really knowing or caring
where that was. "I just want to get out of the city."
After about an hour of driving the sun was beginning
to set and we pulled off the road at a signpost
pointing to Ingolstadt. "Thanks a lot," I said as I
jumped onto the road. He waved and I started to walk
in the direction of a town I could see in the distance.
Only a few minutes passed when I saw a tall figure
of a man coming from the opposite direction. By now it
was almost dark and Americans had to be wary of
strangers in isolated areas. As we were only a few
yards from each other I asked in German if there was
a hotel nearby.
"Oh yes," he answered in German. "It's only about
half a mile ahead on your right."
Thanking him, I began walking, but he continued
speaking. "Wait a minute. You have an accent. Where
are you from?"
"Braunsberg in East Prussia," I replied, giving my
father's birthplace.
In the near darkness I could see surprise in his face.
"That's where I'm from," he gasped. I smiled and started
to walk away.
He grabbed my hand, shook it excitedly and said, "I
guess you could call us 'brothers in suffering.'"
I nodded, pulled my hand away and headed down
the road again.
Finally, I saw the hotel on the right. A room was
, available and as I was too tired for a supper, I went
into the room, closed the door, undressed, crawled into
bed and slept.
- 27-
Noises of people talking, opening and closing doors
woke me. Blackout curtains from the war years still
hung over the windows so that you couldn't tell
whether it was dark or light outside. Pulling back the
curtains, I blinked as bright sunlight flooded the room,
I used the sink opposite my bed to get rid of the previous
day's grime, put on a clean shirt, packed my bag
and headed for the check-out desk. After paying my
bill I noticed a small restaurant just off the hotel
lobby. The scrambled eggs and toast were fine, but the
coffee was what the Germans called "ersatz" or substitute
because real coffee was scarce after the war,
Anyway, on my way out of the restaurant I noticed
a bulletin board in the lobby. What caught my eye on
the board was a notice: Hollywood movie company on
location at the train station. Will film a scene at tenthirty
this morning."
My watch showed ten o'clock. After getting directions
to the train station from the desk clerk, I found a
streetcar just outside the hotel that passed the station.
I jumped on board, found a seat as the conductor came
down the aisle calling out, "Tickets. Tickets, please."
In those days Americans didn't have to pay fares on
streetcars or trains and when the conductor came to
my seat, I handed him my American identification. As
I looked up at him I noticed that this was the man in
uniform the evening before who called me his "brother
in suffering." It was only a moment that our eyes met,
but I could see his brow wrinkle in a slight frown.
Then as he turned away he continued down the aisle,
calling, "Tickets. Tickets, please."
Ten minutes passed and again I heard the conductor's
voice. This time he called, "Railroad station,
Railroad station." As soon as we stopped I picked up
my bag and hopped onto the street. About a block
ahead of me in front of the station I saw a group of
people clustered around several lights on poles over
their heads. In the center were two men at a large
camera. A woman in uniform ran toward the camera,
suddenly stopped, and excitedly looked to the left and
right. One of the men alongside the camera yelled,
"Cut," the woman relaxed, walked to a small canvas
chair and sat down.
I recognized the woman as the American actress
Aline MacMahon who had played supporting roles in
many films. Walking over to her, I introduced myself
and told her how much I had enjoyed her work. She
thanked me and in a few minutes when director, Fred
Zinneman, came to her, she introduced me to him. I
mentioned my interest in films and he asked, "Do you
want to come with me? I'm going to set up the next
shot."
As soon as I said, "That would be great, thanks," we
headed to a bridge overlooking railroad tracks. He put
his viewer to his eye and in a few minutes he and his
(Continued on Page 28)