The Last of Autumn.

 

No more "Autumn near Bleiburg" pictures.

Those are the last! I promise!!!

Autumn near Bleiburg

Got in my car, yesterday, and drove a few kilometers outside of Bleiburg.

While he images below do not compare with Autumn in Algonquin Park, they are, nevertheless, beautiful representatives of Autumn hereabouts. 

Two "Kisses"

This work of Art was produced by 

Daphne Odjig, 

a member of the "Frist Canadian Nation" of the  

Odawa-Potawatomi.

Gustav Klimt (1919 - 2016)

the famous Austrian Painter

produced this work of Art.

So, which do you like better?

Actually a dumb question, 

since the two works of Art are so fundamentally different.

It is almost like asking: Which do you like better:

A horse shoe or a cucumber?

When it comes to eating, I prefer the Cucumber.

When it comes to looking at it,

I prefer Daphne.

 

Fratelli Tutti

 

“Fratelli tutti”

(We are) All Brothers.

This is what Pope Franciscus called his latest Encyclical, in which he waxed enthusiastic in his condemnation of the “Free Market System.”

Corona has presented the proof, so he claimed, that “the magical theories of the Free Market Capitalism” do not function.

No, it was not Karl Marx who said that, but Pope Franciscus, who reveals himself more and more as an adherent of the Far Left in the political spectrum.

How he connects 'Covid 19' with the functioning of the Free Market System, he did not explain.

How much do you want to bet that a “Free Market” oriented firm will come up with the Inoculation against this viral disease?

He also did not explain why exactly the countries governed after his Left Wing philosophy are still the poorest of the world.

Please compare, for instance, the living standard of the poverty stricken North Korea, governed by the principles of Stalinesque Communist dictatorship, to that of its southern brother, which happens to be a Free Market Society and, (what a coincidence) counts among the richest of Asiatic countries.

Another example for Franciscus' erroneous thinking is Venezuela, which for the past over 20 years has been governed in accordance with Communist principles, and, in spite of the world's greatest oil reserves, remains one of the poorest countries of its continent.

Francis says not one word about these, or several other examples.

He does not mention the fact that it was Free Enterprise, which lifted

untold countries and untold Millions of people from abject poverty to an honorable life of relative wealth.

By innuendo the Pope likens Free Enterprise to Greed, and personal Egotism, when, in fact, this human weakness appears in all systems.

Maybe, Frances should look at his own house, where money, meant for the poor, was used to speculate in the money markets.

Why is the Vatican Bank, which he calls the “Institute for Christian Services” known the world over as one of the most corrupt financial institutions?

No, dear Franciscus, Free Enterprise is NOT the cause of universal poverty, but, in fact, it is the cause of steady improvement in the economic “Lot of Man.”

Franz Schellhorn, the leader of the Think tank “Agenda Austria”,

in his article in the 'Kleine Zeitung' of 18^th October, cites the following statistics:

During the past 20 years Extreme Poverty has been reduced by 67 %

Child Mortality was reduced by 50%.

Analphabetism has been reduced by 24%.

Of this Franciscus makes no mention. Not with a single word.

Why not? Because it would not buttress his Left Wing philosophy, but utterly destroy it.

The Bridges of Braunau

 

The Bridges

of

Braunau

During the last days of April, just at the beginning of May, the river carried high water from the melting snowfields of the Alps and from its many tributaries.

The end of this devastating, cruel war was in sight. In fact it was only eight days ahead.

Dear Mom

In your last letter, which I got yesterday you said that you are praying for my safe return.

Please do not worry about me. We are just moving along and meet with very little, almost no resistance from the Germans.

My Company Commander said this morning that all will be over soon.

Then I will come home and if Mary-Ann hasn't found another man, but, as she said, has waited for me, I will marry her.

We'll have a humdinger of a wedding.

In any event, I am attached to an “Engineer Battalion. All we do is repair roads and, when necessary, repair damaged, or build new bridges. We get involved in fighting only rarely. There is really nothing to worry about.

I am sending to you and Dad all my best wishes and a hug for both of you.

Your son,

Lester.

The 13^th Armored Division, “Black Cat” moves on, coming via the outskirts of Munich toward “Rottal am Inn”, and from there to “Alt Ötting”, small, picturesque towns along the river “Inn”.

But, “picturesque” is not really in the dictionary of those soldiers, who want nothing but the end of this war and to return home to Ohio, Nebraska, Kansas or any of the other States from which they happened to come.

“What'll you do, when this is over and we go home” Herbi asks.

Lester thinks for a moment. A small smile plays on his lips.

“Getting married. That's the first thing I'll do. Then, with my GI Grant, I'll finish College. After that”, he hesitates for a moment, “we'll see.”

“I really have no idea. Not the foggiest notion what I'll be doing. Maybe I'll stay in the Army.” Herbi says.

The truck in which the two friends ride, along with several other GIs, is one in a long chain of vehicles, driving up-river along the river Inn.

Almost bumper to bumper, 2.5 ton trucks, with light machine guns mounted, interspersed by threatening Sherman tanks, Red Cross trucks, and Jeeps, leaving the column, speeding to the top of the line up.

American Soldiers, casually, almost carelessly sit within the trucks and atop the tanks.

Two young boys walk in the opposite direction.

“Go home!” the men in the vehicles shout at them. “Go home!”

A German Army Vehicle approaches from a side road.

Machine guns stutter.

Slowly the column nears the town of Simbach.

The trucks move to the side of the road and stop.

Tanks move up.

Just in front there is a viaduct crossing the road. Heavy cement blocks on both sides and thick trees span the road. A tank barrier. Not for long.

The lead tank opens fire and the mined barrier explodes.

To the left there is a two story building. A pub on the ground floor.

There is movement behind a window. The glass shatters and a bazooka comes flying out.

It misses the lead tank by a foot and explodes against a small tobacconist's sales shed, disintegrating it to its foundation.

The first and second tank turn their turret and almost in unison two shots are fired.

The building with the pub and anybody inside is no more.

The entire column has now come to a halt.

Through the Viaduct, with the wood from the splintered tree trunks lying about, the bridgehead can be seen. The Inn river is less than two hundred meters down the road.

A halt is ordered, because it is assumed that the bridge is also mined and ready to be blown at a moment's notice.

Evening descends and, since all is quiet, field kitchens roll up.

Once a day all GIs should have a warm meal.

A Spotter Plane circles over the ancient City of Braunau and its surrounding area on the other side of the river.

Throughout the night Artillery fire rains upon the forest east of Braunau and does not cease until the early morning hours.

At about noon on the first day of May the expected explosion happens.

A column of smoke and debris rises.

Dark gray at first, then pink at the edges and then a bright red.

The warm shock wave can be felt right back to the hill range beyond Simbach.

About half an hour later, the railroad bridge disintegrates in the same manner.

A pontoon bridge will have to be laid and Colonel Smith asks for volunteers to cross the river using the remains of the destroyed bridge. It is necessary to reconnoiter the best landing place for the last pontoon in the row.

Private 1^st Class, Lester Bingham and Staff Sergeant Herbert Moss readily volunteer for this difficult assignment.

It is 9.30 in the morning. Heavy fog lies upon the river. Although it is the second day of May, the temperature has dipped to only 3 degrees Celsius, and light snow is falling.

“The snow won't stay longer than a moment” Herbi says.

“But the river is freezing cold” Lester answers. “We had better not fall in!”

Carefully the two work their way across the ruins of the bridge.

Herbert in the lead and Lester following close behind.

The iron is so cold that the hands stick to it.

“Shoulda brought some gloves.” Lester says.

“Too late now; we're half way across”

On hands and feet they crawl forward.

Water splashes onto the girders, where it forms a thin layer of ice.

The hissing sound of the fast flowing river is constantly in their ears.

Cautiously they test each handhold and cautiously they make sure that the bent piece of girder is well balanced and will support their weight.

“Careful now” says Herbie. “There's the longest gap. Reach across and don't let your feet slip.”

Lester feels for the next part of the girder. There are rivets missing.

The edges of the hole, left where the rivets were torn loose, are razor sharp.

Pain shoots through Lester's left hand. Instinctively he pulls away.

He looses his grip.

His balance is gone and he hears the hissing water, as it rushes over the heavy gravel which covers the river bed.

Herbert does not even hear the cry of desperation coming from his comrade.

Lester, his heavy uniform and boots soaking up water quickly, struggles to stay afloat.

The pull of the rushing river drags him under the surface.

He fights for air, but swallows only water.

Please, he thinks, let me not drown here. I have to keep my head above water.

The fast flowing river is relentless and unforgiving.

Herbert sees his parents' faces and that of his beloved Mary-Ann.

For a moment he is ready to give up.

All turns black before his eyes.

But then an new surge of his will to survive gives him power.

Once again he fights his way to the surface.

Staff Sergeant Herbert Moss clings desperately to one of the pieces of the torn bridge. He knows that his friend has gone from the bridge.

But he cannot see his body..

He scans the surface of the river. He can see only silver wavelets and an occasional piece of flotsam.

He calls his friend's name. He hears only the steely hissing of the fast flowing river.

As fast as he can he returns to the side from which he had started.

Whenever possible he scans the debris of what was the railroad bridge.

Then he sees a fleeting movement among its twisted metal.

He knows not if his sorrow about the feared loss of his best friend has tricked him into seeing what he so desperately wanted to see.

***********************

Hi Mom, Dad and Mary-Ann.

Thanks, Mom and Dad, for praying for me. And thanks Mary-Ann for sending me the little horse shoe with the four leaf clover... I needed it.   

A few days ago I almost ran out of luck. But now all is Okay again.       You won't believe this. I fell into a river. Just like I used to do when I was a kid at Grandma's house in Muskogee.

When all this is over, and Uncle Sam lets me go, I think I will finish College and become... I don't know yet what.                            Herbie thinks he'll stay in the Army.

Can't wait till I get home again.

In the meantime think of yourselves as hugged by me.

Lester.

P.S. Hi Mary-Ann: I will write to you separately but I wanted you to know right away that I am A-Okay.

On the First day of May, in the Year 1945

 

Quietly flowed the green river Inn at 10 minutes before 12 noon 

on the 1st day of May in the year 1945,

when suddenly he was torn from his reverie by two mighty explosions.

Some fanatical members of the German 'Wehrmacht'

blew the pedestrian/vehicular, as well as the railroad bridge to smithereens.

The 'Rainbow 'and the 'Black Cat' Division of the U.S. Army 

were delayed at this crossing for one day.

To all intents and purposes this devastating 2nd World War was over.

The unconditional surrender documents were signed 7 days later, 

on the 8th of May 1945.

and yet......

The remnants of the Pedestrian/Vehicular Bridge.

three pictures, those of the destroyed bridges

and the one of the U.S. soldiers crossing the Pontoon bridge, 

were obtained from the Archives of Braunau.

30 Minutes after the first explosion, the Railroad bridge was also destroyed, (above)

Forces of the liberating U.S.American troops crossed this hastily erected Pontoon bridge

on the 2nd of May.

Several years later, this new Pedestrian/Vehicular bridge (above)

and the railroad bridge (below) were rebuilt.

Some more about Braunau am Inn.

 

The Wall, surrounding the town of Braunau am Inn, 

held back Napoleon's forces as well a Bavarian invaders for long periods.

I think it was the Bavarians who encircled the town.

For three weeks Braunau held out and finally the Citizens of this brave enclave

had to butcher its last horse for food.

The balconies in this and other pictures were, naturally, added much later.

At the mid-left location, you can see the red umbrellas of the Beer-Garden, 

belonging to the Gasthaus "Zum Schiff".

Willi, the son of the proprietors was a good friend of mine.

Posting of these pictures brings back seemingly long forgotten memories.

The windows and doors were, of course, installed at a much later time, 

when relative peace had come to this area.

Atop this wall was the so-called "Nussgarten" (the Garden of the Nut Trees).

which plays some role in my little book: "The End is the Beginning".

In the "Linzerstraße" is the building of the "Alte Weinhans"

atop of which is an iron horse, reminding us of the above described time, 

when the last horse had to be butchered in this very building to supply some food.

After this event, the town had to surrender.

There was another (in)famous man.

 

Besides Palm, Steininger, and probably a handful of other outstanding men, there was one man, who became, beyond a doubt, the most famous, or infamous man of Braunau am Inn.

Adolf Hitler was borne in Braunau on the 20th day of April 1889. 

This is surely an honor, Braunau could have done without. 

It is, however, historical fact and cannot be wished away. 

Adolf, directly or indirectly was responsible for some 57 Million deaths. 

Should you want to know the details, you may find them in the Internet.

Through this narrow entrance gate, a car is entering the Main Square.

As you walk from the Main Square into "Salzburger Vorstadt"

you pass by this picturesque scene of a small chapel. 

Down below, a narrow brook (Stadtbach) flows.

A few steps along this street stands the building in which Adolf Hitler first saw light.

Simple minded politicians now speak about demolition of this structure,

as if the removal of bricks and mortar would also remove the still lingering thoughts of some men.

The stone comes from the quarry near Mauthausen.

It says:

For Peace Liberty

and Democracy

Never again Fascism

Millions of victims are warning.

Hans Steininger

 Another well known Citizen of Braunau was Hans Steininger.

Hans, was not only the Mayor of Braunau, but he could boast about the longest beard in this place and at this time.  It was well over 5 feet long.

Unfortunately, this beard became his literal "downfall."

One day, to be precise, on the 28th September 1567, there was a fire somewhere downtown. The alarm bells were rung and Hans, being a conscientious leader of his people tried to rush to the scene of the fire.

In his haste, he had forgotten to roll up his beard and to tuck it into the little leather pouch, hanging around his neck.

Having arrived at the top of the stairs in the Town Hall, he stepped on his beard, tripped and fell and, would you believe it, Hans fell all the way to the bottom of stairs, broke his neck and was dead on the spot.

On the front elevation of City Hall, just above the balcony,

from which speeches were given and parades watched,

is, for ever displayed, the likeness of Hans Steininger.

On the side of the North wall of the Church,

a similar  sculpture shows Hans and his beard.

I would estimate the length of his beard to exceed 5 feet.

Johan Phillip Palm

Braunau am Inn, Upper Austria.

This small town of about 18,000 inhabitants has a varied, sometimes turbulent, history.

Let me just go back to the early 19^th Century:

For some short time in 1805, the French Warmonger, Napoleon Bonaparte lived in Braunau, in the house, Stadtplatz 34.

The Nürnberg Book Publisher, Johan Phillip Palm, printed and marketed a booklet, dealing with Germany's occupation by Napoleon, called “Germany in its deep Humiliation”.

Since he steadfastly refused to divulge the name of the author, he was executed by firing squad, on the order of Napoleon, on the 26^th August 1806, just outside the Braunau city walls.

The building in which he was incarcerated, as well as the location of his execution are kept as a place of remembrance, warning against the loss of “Freedom of the Press.”

 

Poststallgasse 6 is the building in which J.P. Palm was kept as  prisoner

until his execution on 26th August 1806, on the order of Napoleon.

Commemorative plaque 

reminding of this crime and surreptitiously warning

 of the loss of Freedom of the Press.

 

Braunau am Inn

 

Two famous people come from this town:

There is I and there is another one about whom we shall not speak. 

Braunau has about 18,000 inhabitants and is a busy trade center of the so-called "Innviertel"  ( a Quarter Section by the river Inn )

I grew up there from age 4 to 23 and I am hard pressed to find a better place in which to grow up.

Section of the Main Square.

The building on the right is "Stadtplatz 22"  (Mainsquare 22).

This was My Home.

We lived in a large apartment on the second floor, with windows out to the Church Square.

Just across from 22 is "City Hall"

The "Upper End" of the Main Square 

with the Fountain in the foreground

and the Entry Gate with Tower at the rear.

Coming from Salzburg, this narrow (one car at a time) gate

gives you precarious entry to the Main Square.

Coming from the about 65 km distant city of Salzburg

One enters the town through this narrow gate.

This sign, affixed to the  Entry Gate 

tells of the 700th  anniversary of Braunau.

First documented mention of the town was in the year 1260.

Buskers in Toronto.

 

What, or who, is a “Busker”?

A Busker, so Wikipedia tells us, is a person who performs music or any other art of entertainment, in the street, or any other public place, for donations.

My last Busker Festival I experienced in Toronto in early September of 2017.

There were musicians, jugglers, acrobats, singers, dancers, street-painters and more.

Some, just beautiful women, beautifully dressed and beautifully made up.

There is food and drinks and laughter and just general fun!

Mostly there are children enjoying life. They sit on the road and with eyes wide open they show their astonishment and admiration at “the buskers.”

In typical, Canadian relaxed fashion, Toronto's main road, “Yonge Street” is  blocked to all traffic, so that buskers may have their way.

Yonge Street, the number one street,

closed to all vehicular traffic.

For today, it's a "Pedestrian Zone."

One of the new sky-scrapers looms in the background.

a small part of the crowd, attracted by a pair of jugglers.

The "Bearded Gypsy Band" .. 

just one of several musical groups.

A pair of Acrobats.

This Accordion player stands without any discernible movement

for the longest periods of time.

She is, however, "coin operated."

as soon as a coin is dropped, she begins in jerky, robotic movements

to move and to play the accordion.

A difficult act, well done.

(above and below)

A Didgeridoo,  Flute and Sax and Percussion.

makes for interesting music.

Kids and Hula-hoops

what more do you need?....

...maybe a good looking young woman and a Hula-Hoop?

Two Jugglers.

This is NOT a wig.

Don't play with Fire!!