My Tuesdays with Ed
I digress from the usual theme of my articles dealing with the vast differences between my early experiences and the happenings of today, to write a human-interest story about Ed.
My Tuesday’s with Ed were memorable ones.
To preface my association with Ed, at around the time that the Niagara Art Gallery came into existence I volunteered my services there religiously every Tuesday morning. I have been an Electronics Engineer all of my life, consequently, when my wife sees something of interest in this regard, she usually brings it to my attention. On this occasion it was an advertisement in the local newspaper offering electronic instruments for sale. I phoned and made arrangements to view what was advertised.
I was met at the door by a small frail looking man in his mid to late eighties, who, even during those first few minutes projected a quiet air of sophistication. After looking at the instruments we sat down to talk. The four hours of conversation that ensued cemented our future relationship. Any reference to electronics or instruments quickly faded and, in its place, our relevant backgrounds from the 1920’s onwards. My first meeting with Ed had set into motion an ongoing connection.
Even at this late stage in his life Ed was still writing articles for the St Catharines, Ontario, Seniors Review. It was decided that together we would compile his “Biographical Sketch” combined with a review of the 20th century, spanning the 1920’s to the 1960’s, to become part of an author’s profile for the Niagara Gallery World of Art, here in Niagara Falls, Canada. It was to be ready for publishing on the Gallery website during the year of the veteran 2005. Ed was in poor health. Physically he was finding it difficult to get around the house and his concentration span was getting shorter. His condition was slowly deteriorating so there was no way that we could arrange to meet other than at his house. He lived quite close to the Gallery so it was decided that I visit him on my way home every Tuesday at 1pm.
I will always remember him standing at his front room window waiting for me to arrive and greeting me at the door, consequently, I was always punctual to attend my “Tuesday’s with Ed”. Throughout the ongoing period of approximately two years, and despite his poor health he persevered until the task was completed.
Each Tuesday we would talk and make notes for about an hour or so. Then, until Tuesday of the following week I would assemble the items, ready for the website, in preparation for a gathering of veterans to take place in mid 2005 at the Gallery.
The context of this story is one of combatants, for you see Ed was a soldier in Hitler’s army during World War 2, and I was engaged on the opposite side. Our association is something that ordinary folks around the World would embrace if left alone to find their own levels, free from the constraints of political ideology
If I were able to interview Ed now, I am certain that some of his answers would be similar to those contained in his “Review of the 20th Century” from which I will take some highlights. Unfortunately, Ed died just a few short weeks before his 90th birthday.
Ed’s story is a remarkable one, and I will start by asking him about his birthplace and early years.
I was born in England in 1916 of a French father and German mother. At the age of 6 my father died after taking a Foreign Service post in India and my mother had to move the family back to her native Germany where I experienced the depression of the early 1920’s.
What were your feelings when you first arrived in Germany?
It was November 11th, 1923. We had crossed the channel to Holland, traveled by train to a small German city near the Dutch-Belgian border and then by streetcar to the outskirts of a remote village, nestled in a picturesque valley near the Eifel Mountains. A short walk through the cold night triggered a feeling of anticipation, soon followed by cruel disillusionment when we reached the house that became my home for 14 years. It was a long, narrow brick duplex, half of which was occupied by Granny and her oldest son, a shoemaker and barber. One of my mother’s sisters lived with her family of four in the other part. All spoke a language I didn’t understand and their glances made me realize that I had become an object of curiosity.
How did you find growing up in those circumstances?
In retrospect, I think I coped well with the culture shock and the drastic change from middle class comfort to rural life. The parish priest tutored me in German and in the spring of 1925, I was able to attend public school. As time went on, I grew closer to the villagers, though I never became one of them and am still considered a curiosity by some who still remember me.
In your early twenties you were drafted into Hitler’s Labour service and then into the regular German army?
I was drafted into a pre-military organization called the Labour Service in late October 1938 and after six months sent home until November 15, when I had to report for duty with an anti-tank unit in one of our neighbouring cities. I survived the first two months of rigid military training and though not the typical Prussian-type soldier, I made the best of army life. After a while, I was granted occasional weekend leave. Discarding my army uniform at home, I enjoyed civilian life again for a few hours.
After all your experiences during Hitler’s invasion of Greece and Crete you stayed there with the German occupational force?
Our anti-tank unit was assigned to coast guard duty and our crew was stationed at Rethimnon. By and large we were on our own, and had it not been for the war, it would have been an ideal summer campout. We took turns with guard duty and had ample time to visit the town or swim in the Mediterranean. The local people were reserved, but not hostile. The peaceful atmosphere, however, was deceptive. The mountains were still teeming with guerrillas and all attempts to capture them remained unsuccessful.
Tell me about your transfer from there to North Africa?
I was flown to North Africa as one of four instructors assigned to accompany our anti-tank guns and join Rommel’s forces. The rest of my unit was sent to the Russian Front. They were all killed. I reached my new post, a desert fortress south of Benghazi, assembled a crew, and familiarized them with their new weapon.
You were wounded and captured in North Africa?
We were told to abandon our post and move on, but soon out of nowhere, armoured cars appeared on the horizon and opened fire. I recall riding on the tails of my gun, which was tied to a truck. When a bullet grazed my neck, I jumped to safety. Seconds later, our truck driver was killed and the truck turned over. After a brief exchange and more casualties, the captain halted our fire – we were outnumbered. As the vehicles closed in, one left the formation and raced forward. An Australian soldier appeared in its turret nervously waving his pistol at us. We were still armed and neither side knew what to expect. Being the only one who spoke English, I approached and established communication. Visibly relieved, he ordered us to lay down our arms. Because I was wounded, I was taken to a hospital tent, where I met British, Australian and German soldiers. It was December 24. At midnight, a German priest celebrated Mass and we all sang, “Silent Night.” It was, and still is, my most memorable Christmas.
Before being shipped to Canada as a prisoner of war you spent time in transit camps?
We spent the next three months in the transit camps of Alexandria,Cairo,Palestine and Durban,South Africa and then we were shipped from Durban to Capetown, to board the ship Queen Elizabeth for the long trip to Canada.
After a long journey across the Atlantic, the Queen Elizabeth, with about 1,500 war prisoners onboard, landed in New York. We continued our trip north to Gravenhurst, Ontario by train, and arrived there on Pentecost Sunday, May 24th 1942. After spending close to six months in the transit camps of the Middle East and South Africa, I welcomed Camp 20 and its pleasant surroundings as my permanent stay.
The writings about your life as a prisoner of war in Camp 20 are very descriptive and too extensive to include here. Can you describe the atmosphere when you were eventually released?
May 7th 1945, was a cool but sunny day. I had joined a few others for a morning walk when we heard laughter, singing and cheering. We then saw what looked like an unorganized parade approaching the camp. The people of Gravenhurst had come to tell us that the war was over.
At 3:00 p.m., we were ordered to assemble in the compound to hear a proclamation read by the Canadian camp commander. He announced that the unconditional surrender of Germany had been signed at General Eisenhower’s headquarters in Reims, France, The German government had ceased to exist. My expatriation from Halifax Nova Scotia began in the summer of 1946, and I arrived at Camp 17 in England on June 14, 1946. On April 17, 1947, we were shipped to Bremerhafen, Germany, and discharged. After almost seven years of absence, I had come home to a home that no longer existed
After marrying your wife Hedy in Germany you eventually fulfilled your dream of returning to Canada to live?
We left Bremerhafen for Canada at 3:30 p.m. While, on the wharf below, a brass band played a German farewell song. As the boat put to sea, and the outlines of the city grew smaller until they vanished beyond the horizon, we looked back with mixed emotions at the country that had been our home, had shaped our lives and had left us with a kaleidoscope of indelible memories.
I add the following quote from Ed which encompassed his feelings about living in Canada
Canada gave me fulfillment; I was able to achieve what I strove for and I still see unlimited opportunities for those who set goals and persevere. It also means security. But these gifts are worthless without an environment in which one can cultivate friendship, harmony, and goodwill, and thus find peace and happiness. Canada gave me access to all these when it became my homeland.”
My many Tuesday’s spent with Ed compiling “The 20th Century in Review” were very memorable ones. As a fly on the wall the images I see of us sitting together in that quiet atmosphere of his study and then picture the unthinkable had we have met face to face fighting on opposite sides during the violent days of World War 2.
To complete my article and perhaps re-enforce my comments about combatants and freedom from
ideology I repeat a portion of Ed’s answer immediately after he was wounded and captured in North Africa.
“I was taken to a hospital tent, where I met British, Australian and German soldiers. It was December 24. At midnight, a German priest celebrated Mass and we all sang, “Silent Night.” It was, and still is, my most memorable Christmas.
It doesn’t take much imagination to picture them all from both sides of the conflict and moments away from the battlefield, engaged in that brief period of sanity.
I wish you all the best of health, and freedom from war during your lifetime.