My Dad's Response

[days_unfolding]

After my dad and I got on the same page about my question. he wrote the following:

I'm afraid this exercise has triggered some memories, perhaps best left dormant.

I'll try to make you understand what life was like at that time. First, kids had no fear of the bombs. They were everywhere in the buildings of Munich from which they were removed and so were the kids, as I recounted earlier. Second, parents couldn't be with their kids all the time. There was no refrigeration so food had to be acquired everyday. I don't know what was involved with that or how long it took. Before the new currency went into effect, the kids would gather cigarette butts and the parents would spend time making cigarettes. After the new currency at least one parent would spend time trying to make money, doing all sorts of things. So kids were basically on their own for most of the daylight hours, the strict rule was you had to be home for supper. The young kids, like me, generally followed the lead of the older kids.

Something I didn't mention before, crawling through wrecked buildings put a lot of wear and tear on clothing, including shoes. Parents spent considerable time doing repairs. Couldn't just run over to the local Walmart and pick up a replacement. There were no hot water heaters, water for bathing had to be heated on the stove so people only bathed once a week, if that often. Soap, where do you get soap in a destroyed city?

So I don't know. I hate to have him dig up painful memories for my edification.

Comments

[gilda_elise]

The memories would have to be painful. If he wants to keep going, that would be great. But I totally understand if he doesn't. Either way, it's been an interesting story.

[days_unfolding]

I'm leaving it up to him if he wants to continue. So far, he hasn't.

[shadowkat]

I finding this fascinating read, but yeah, I went through something similar years ago with a relative. It was my great uncle. He was relating his time in WWII, which he never talked about. Actually he never had until that day. I was discussing my visit to Wales - and it sparked a memory.
And he began to tell me about how he'd spent time in Wales prior to traveling across to France and then to the Battle of the Bulge. How he barely survived in a bunker, under gunfire, and described in detail the food rations, the gun fire, and the dead around him. He also explained how he had engineered a mechanical radio device to send messages out to other troops. He was electrical engineer.

I remember that the other conversations ceased. We had all been talking to each other. My parents, my aunt, my brother - but they were talking to each other, and my uncle and I were just talking to each other. Then they stopped talking and just listened to my uncle and me. I could barely make out what he said. I didn't ask him - he just told it, as if somehow I pushed something. Then he stopped. And never spoke of it again.

Afterwards, my great aunt told my mother that he'd never spoke of the war to her. He didn't want to.
Now, she finally understood why. It was too painful.