The Trial and the Verdict

Go Fishing

The next morning I am back at Hermann’s house. There is much coming and going. There is much excitement. I stay out of the way. I am there so often, that my presence disturbs no one. Finally an American Officer arrives. I find out later, that he is a Major and a military defence attorney. Hermann’s parents, a local lawyer who is a friend of the family and the major disappear into their parlour. There is nothing to do. I wander away and end up on the Main Square. I meet some of my American friends. In particular Richard Keegan. He is an Army Medic who fixed my dislocated shoulder after I had fallen off a horse, which I should not have stolen in the first place.

Richard knows all about the arrest. He has met Hermann and knows that we are best friends. He tells me that Hermann and Helmut have been charged this morning with “Werewolf Activities”. I have no idea what he is talking about. I’ve never heard the word before. “What’s a Werewolf?” I ask Richard. 
He looks at me and seems to decide to believe me. “Werewolves” he explains, “is an underground organisation of die-hard Nazis, mostly former members of the Hitler Youth, who are determined to carry on fighting a war which is long over.”

I cannot believe what Richard is telling me.

“This is complete nonsense” I tell him. “Hermann was not even a member of the Hitler Youth, because he is a bleeder. A haemophiliac. He was excused from the compulsory membership in the Hitler Youth.

Richard you have to help him”

I plead. Richard smiles: “I’m just a Medic. I am not even a doctor. There is really nothing I can do for your friend. Believe me, they face very serious charges.”

Just how serious became known very quickly throughout the town: The Prosecution is demanding the death penalty for both men. They stand accused of Werewolf Activities and if convicted must be hanged on the main square as a deterrent to all other potential members of this movement.

The Americans provide an experienced defence attorney, the Major I saw at Hermann’s house. During the closed military trial, we are told, he brings out the fact of Hermann’s medical condition, that for this reason he never belonged to any Nazi Organisation. That both his parents spent a short time in jail because they were quite obviously not sympathetic to the Nazi movement.

His father refused to join the NSDAP, the Nazi Party.

The Major must have done a good job defending my two friends. Finally they were convicted of “illegally possessing explosive devices.”

The Verdict: Nine Month Unconditional, Two years Conditional.

So they dragged Hermann and Helmut off to jail, where they spent the next five month. Their early release was due to their good behaviour.

And all they wanted to do was “Go Fishing”

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

The window of Hermann and Helmut's jail cell.

I tied the heel guard of a military boot to the end of a long string. On the other end a package of  tobacco and the gadget required for the manufacture of home made cigarettes, or some of the pilfered American Cigs. Swinging the boot iron one of my friends could catch it at the third or fourth try. Neither Hermann nor Helmut smoked. so they used it to bribe the guards for extra time in the yard.

JAZZ spelled with a Capital "J"

Goodman and Miller in the Café Graf

Music is part of our life. My father played every string instrument extant. He was best on the Cello and the guitar. There is a story, that he and his brother got musical instruments one Christmas. Franz, my father, got a violin and his brother Felix got a guitar. They also were enrolled in lessons. Franz would study his violin, but every chance he got, he grabbed his brother’s guitar and taught himself. Before long he played the violin quite well, but the guitar even better. Much better, they say, than his brother Felix. My mother played the Zither and she sang beautifully. She had a light, silvery voice. When we did the dishes after dinner, Irmgard would wash, I would dry, Inge would sit at the kitchen table and knit fancy table cloths with a huge round knitting needle, mother would do something else, but we all sang. Doing the dishes and singing went hand in hand. Often, the dishes long done, we’d still be singing. We sang excerpts from Operettas, we sang Folksongs, we sang Schubert’s “Trout quintet “

“In einem Baechlein helle, da schoss in froher Eil, die launige Forelle, vorueber wie ein Pfeil. Ich stand an dem Gestade und sah in suesser Ruh des muntern Fischleins Bade im klaren Baechlein zu.”

I still remember the lyrics. More than sixty years later.

The Americans have just come to Braunau. I don’t yet quite understand it, but I will in the future: they bring us

“freedom liberty and bread.”

I am shortly to discover one other thing they bring:

I bum around in the Main Square, the Stadtplatz.

A few houses down from City Hall is Café Graf. As you walk in you come to the sales section. They sell rich home made chocolate torte, delicious pralines, bon bons, juicy fruit cakes. This is what we call a “Konditorei” At the back is a glass door, which is always open. It leads to the actual “Caffehaus” where you sit at a small round marble topped table and can have all the sweets from the Konditorei, together with strong coffee or tea. You may also have Cognac, various liquors, or a glass of good wine.

All this is hearsay. I am too broke for the Konditorei and too young for the Caffehaus. Every time I pass by, I glance in, because I know, someday I’ll sit in the Caffehaus and eat and drink anything I like.

The Americans seem to like the atmosphere of this little place. They take it over as their club. Now I have friends who will take me there. Richard Keegan for one, but several others too. They bring an electric record player and stacks of records.

This is the place where I first hear Benny Goodman play “Sing Sing Sing” with Gene Krupas unbelievable drum solo and Glen Miller’s “In the Mood,” and the “String of Pearls” and “Chattanooga Choo Choo” with the lush Tenor Sax and vocals of Tex Bennecke. Never, ever before have I heard a voice like Billy Holiday’s.

I am certain I have just arrived in musical heaven.

That’s what music must sound like.

I can feel the pulsating rhythm in my whole body.

I not only hear the melodies but remember them at first hearing.

I hear Music with a capital M.

I know that I have been secretly waiting for this Music.

They tell me it’s called Jazz.

My American friends teach me how to pronounce this beautiful word, so it does not sound like a board game.

I hang around there for days and listen to “Stompin’ at the Savoy”, “Down Under Camp Meeting” I fall in love with Louis Armstrong’s silvery trumpet and his gravely voice.

I listen to Harry James play the “Trumpet Blues” and Tommy Dorsey’s rich trombone.

Who ever heard anything better than Louis Armstrong’s 'Hot Five'.?

I learn the meaning of “Dixieland” and on first hearing I understand that they are all playing around the same chord structure. Everybody improvises like crazy and it comes out sounding beautiful.

But not to my mother’s ears. She declares it:

“unmitigated noise”.

“They are not even playing the same tune” she fusses.

My pleading to listen carefully and she would know that this is beautiful music falls on deaf ears, figuratively speaking.

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

The End

Soccer in Bleiburg

Bleiburg SV  vs  F.C. Kühnsdorf 

many close calls

but not many goals

Where's the ball ??

1 : 1

Birds in Africa

Why do vultures have no feathers on head or neck ?

I'll let you think about the answer.

A flock of Maribu Storks have assembled atop the crown of a tree.

The "Hammerkop" is about the size of a small duck,

but builds the largest nest of any bird in Africa.

Not only that, but they also build a new one each year.

That's similar to you building every year a new Villa for your wife and children.

Don't ask me "why"

 

A clutch of "White Faced Ducks" have assembled on the surface of a pond. 

Yes, this is a pond, overgrown with a light purple blooming water plant.

Algonquin's largest denizen - The Moose

A solitary animal, mostly found in Canada, Alaska, Scandinavia and Russia,
the Moose, or as it is called in Eurasia, the Elk,
is a herbivore growing from 1.5 to 2.3 meters at the shoulders, weighing up to 500 to 600 kgs.
The male grows antlers which it sheds yearly, growing  bigger ones next Spring.
The female, somewhat smaller than the male, does not have antlers, and selects a breeding male in accordance to the size of his rack.

Wild skirmishes between competing adult males for the pleasure of the lady's company sometimes develop and the crashing of their antlers can be heard for long distances throughout the bush.

Its favourite food are the roots of water lilies, but it also feeds on any greenery available to it at any time.

A male Moose becomes aggressive particularly in Fall, at rutting period, and only if it feels threatened.

All of the above is well known to any of my Canadian readers and is specifically intended to inform my Austrian friends.

So enough of this learned talk! Let's look at a few pictures:

A very large male. 

I recommend to stay out of his way,

particularly during the rutting season.

This Eightender is busy digging up roots of 

the water Lily and if you drift too close in your canoe

he might consider you a competitor for his afternoon snack

and throw a mock charge.

Moose are good swimmers and have been observed crossing good sized lakes.

This bull is probably the largest I have ever seen.

I estimated his size at least at 2.5 meters at the shoulders

and his bulk would probably tip the scales at the 650 to 700 kilograms.

It is of course possible that I got too close to him and my estimates might be slightly exaggerated due to the shock experienced by
Bertstravels.

Antelopes, Antelopes, Antelopes

If you are a photography fan, then it does not matter how often you go on Safari in Africa, how many pictures you have already taken of this antelope or that one, if another ones shows his or her beautiful face, you simply cannot keep from taking "just another shot... and then another one.... and then just one more.
And when I select "the best of this or that"...  there is always one more which should have made this selection.
Let me show you a few of the better ones.... ( tomorrow I will find one which I then insist should have made the cut...

Oh well, not to worry... have a good look at those:

The corkscrew horns crown this male Greater Kudu 

as he browses the tasty  leaves

of his favourite bush.

One of the smallest of the antelopes,

the Clipp Springer

must think he is a mountain goat

Another male Kudu, visited by two oxpeckers looking for insects.

A male Waterbuck.

There are two theories concerning the white circle around his tail.

Some suggest it is a help for the young to follow his parents through the dense bush,

others insist that it tells a predator: "I've seen you and I'm on my way, therefore, chasing me is of no use to you.

( those same two theories are being put forward about the "White Tailed Dear."

The "Clown of the Steppe"

also known as the "Wildebeest".

In the area of Tanzania, Kenia and surrounding countries

there are about 1.5 Million of them on migration.

We witnessed a heard, which our guide estimated to number at about 10,000 to 15,000

crossing the Mara River on their migration.

a female Kudu, somewhat smaller than her male partner

 and, of course, without the spiral horns.

Here is a male Nyala.

His horns have only one swing in the middle and a small curve at the end, 

as opposed to the Kudu, who has multiple swings.

Another peculiarity of the Nyala: 

It is the only Antelope where the colouration of the male differs substantially from that of the females.

Please note: The male middle to dark grey, the females light brown.

Before this male Impala stepped into the sun light,

he turned around once more to make sure that we posed no threat.

In the Kalahari a small Duiker and a streight horned Oryx

seem to have no problem sharing the same feeding ground.

above and below:

A graceful male Impala.

Our guide made a most fitting comment:

"The Impala", he said, "are the flowers of our Park."

A scimitar horned Sable Antelope.

A group of "Lady Impalas"

ready for modeling school

Cleaning of the town fountain

This is truly the hallmark of a small, tightly woven community:
When the fountain, which divides the main square needs a "spring cleaning", the "Bürgers" move out. The cleansing of the fountain itself and the channel down the middle is "everybody's business":

This is what it looks like:

With a high pressure hose, along with lady's power

 the grime of an entire winter is removed 

the channel, dividing the main square lengthwise, is scrubbed to sparkling marbel.

Christin and one of our neighbours are having fun.

Twin small fry are digging in.

After a job well done !