All Men Together

Fraulein Gerdau spent the remainder of the week teaching her children about the Berlin Wall. Students were encouraged to bring in artifacts from the “Cold War” for Show and Tell. Then, the class would discuss the importance of each item.

On Tuesday, a girl named Freda brought in train passes and her Aunt Helena’s passport and used train tickets.

“My Aunt Helena used to live in West Berlin. She had friends who lived in East Berlin. She’d go through one of the checkpoints to cross from one side to the other.”

“Anyone who wanted to cross the Berlin Wall had to go through these checkpoints. Has anyone heard of the Brandenburg Gate?”

“That’s where people crossed into East Berlin,” said a student.

Fraulein Gerdau nodded. “The Brandenburg Gate was known as a checkpoint, guarded by the Volkspolezei. The ‘people’s police’ were responsible for all people entering and exiting East Berlin. They checked everyone’s passports whenever they crossed the border.”

On Wednesday, Johann brought in a collection of photographs. He passed them around the classroom one at a time, describing each one as he did.

“These are pictures of the Berlin Wall,” he said.

Johann, how did you get such a large collection of photos?”

“Part of my family lived in West Berlin. Another part lived in East Berlin. My Aunt Ava took most of these photos. She was only allowed to take pictures from West Berlin.”

“Do you know why she couldn’t take them from East Berlin?” asked Fraulein Gerdau.

“My Aunt said the Volkspolezei would take her camera,” said Johann.

“The Volkspolezei were East German soldiers under strict orders,” added Fraulein Gerdau, “they took the cameras because the East German Government didn’t want pictures of the Berlin Wall.”

“My Aunt said there was the Government truth and the other truth, What does that mean?” asked Johann.

“The other truth was the news from the West. The East German government controlled the newspapers. They sometimes had to commit terrible acts at the checkpoints.”

“Why did they do that?”

“It was a sad time for many people, just like World War II. The Volkspolezei were called the ‘People’s Police’, but they were actually guarding against people going from East Berlin to West Berlin.”

“What was wrong with West Berlin?” asked Johann.

“Nothing was wrong with West Berlin. However, people in East Berlin had money troubles. As people left East Berlin, the Government decided that was the time to do something about all the people leaving.”

The school bell rang.

“We’ll continue this discussion tomorrow,” she promised.

On Thursday, Petra brought in her Grandfather’s East German flag. Fraulein Gerdau helped Petra hang the flag on the chalkboard. Petra also brought in a box of rocks.

“What do we have here?” asked Fraulein Gerdau.

“They are pieces of the Berlin Wall.”

“That’s very interesting.”

“My grandfather was one of the wall woodpeckers.”

The children laughed.

“What’s a wall woodpecker?” asked Fraulein Gerdau.

“When the Berlin Wall was ordered to be taken down, many East Germans went to the wall with their sledgehammers and chisels. They chipped pieces out of the wall. My father says that’s why I’m named Petra.”

“Because of the Wall?”

“Petra means rock. My Grandfather always told me how the Berlin Wall defined his entire life. In one night, all the people of East Berlin weren’t allowed to go to West. His father worked in West Berlin before the wall was erected. At first, it was just barbed wire and the Volkspolezei.”

“That’s right. The barbed wire was put up in just one night. The wall took months to finish. The Volkspolezei were ordered to shoot anyone trying to cross from East Germany to West Germany.”

The children gasped.

“Germany has always had this unique place in the history of Europe. I think you’ll find it interesting that the Spanish name for Germany is ‘Alemania.’ She wrote the words ‘Alles’ and ‘Mann’ on the chalkboard.

She went to college in Spain. To her students, Spain seemed a world away. In fact, only France sat between the two countries.

She pointed it out on a map of Europe, showing France's neighbors to the north and to the south. Germany extended across the middle of Europe, from the Swiss Alps to the North Sea.

“See how Germany cuts Europe into two halves? That is why the Spanish called it Alemania. During the Dark Ages, the Germanic tribes ruled the continent. We’ve been poised between many different cultures with many different views of the world. It’s those views which shape Germany for both good and bad.”

The school bell rang.

“I hope everyone enjoys their holiday,” said Fraulein Gerdau.

Even thought they’d been talking about it all week, Max had forgotten about German Unity Day. It was the only holiday everyone celebrated. Many stores were closed. The factories were closed, too.

Max spent the rest of the day thinking about the German Unity Day Festival in downtown Stuttgart. Max and his family would be there. He could hardly wait.

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

As soon as the midnight hour struck, people were gathered along Wilhelmstrabe at Brandenburger Tor – the Bradenburg Gate – in Berlin. They watched fireworks and listened to loud music. As the midnight bells tolled from every cathedral bell, crowds sang the German National Anthem.

Early the next morning, Herr Muller stood at the entrance to Franz and Max’s bedroom.
“Put on your alpine hat and leather britches, boys!” he called to them.

“Do I have to?” asked Max.

“I’ll be wearing traditional clothes, so you’re wearing them, too. It’s Unity Day!” said his father.

While Max remained in bed, Franz got up and put on his alpenhut, lederhosen, and trachtenschuhe. He stood in front of the mirror as he straightened his clothing.

“I even make lederhosen look good.”

“You look like one of the bell-ringers on some Black Forest Clocks that comes out to chime the bell at the top of every hour.”

“Come on, Max, you need to get up. You get to look like this, too,” said Franz.

Max dressed in traditional clothing, just like everyone else. He forgot just how much the leather pants scratched. He rubbed talcum powder along the inside of his britches, hoping that might help. Afterwards, he joined everyone in the kitchen.

The Mullers were eating large bowls of Muesli. Max grabbed the ceral box as he sat down and poured himself a large bowl. The dry oat cereal included tiny bits of dried fruits and nuts. Franz ate his with lots of milk. Max, however, ate his cereal dry. It tasted just like a apple granola bar shredded into a bowl. He took a spoonful into his mouth, following it with a drink of chocolate milk. It helped make the cereal soft and chewy.

After breakfast, they went to downtown Stuttgart, ready to enjoy the festivities. The streets were crowded with thousands of people. Herr Muller put his Porsche in tactory’s parking lot. The family walked the rest of the way towards the festival.

People crowded into Castle Square, an open area known as the Schlossplatz to the people of Stuttgart. A cacophony of sound filled the air.

“Oompah-pah! Oompah-pah!” boomed Herr Muller as he strutted down the street. He led the way for the Muller family, cutting through the crowd. Of all the sounds, Max’s father picked out the sound of tubas and bass drums.

“Wunderbar!” he exclaimed as he bounced rhythmically to the pounding of the drum and tuba corps. Like the Mullers, the band was dressed in the finest traditional clothes. Leather suspenders held up their zipperless lederhosen. Their lederhosen were wonderfully designed, with threded scrollwork running along the seams.

Along with the bass drum and tubas, there were accordions, too. Soon, though, Franz drifted away from the traditional German music stage. Across the plaza, a rock band played. As he went, Max tagged along.

“Wait for me,” said Max.

The boys outfits blended poorly into the rock concert crowd. Two girls stood next to Max.
“You look so cute,” she said.

Franz blushed. “Our father made us dress like this.”

“It’s good to see festive clothing,” said one of the girls.

“Hi, I’m Stephanie and this is Gretchen,” said the other girl.

Max looked the girls up and down. They wore black tee shirts and blue jeans, like everyone else in the crowd. It made Max feel a bit embarrassed, too.

“I think I look like a bell-ringer,” said Max.

“You are an adorable bell-ringer, though.”

They watched the concert for a little while longer. The girls stayed there, too. Franz and Gretchen watched while Stephanie and Max danced. She grabbed Max by the fingertips and swung him around.

Both boys forgot about the Lederhosen and Alpenhuts until their parents showed up. Stephanie gave her dance partner (and part-time sweetheart) a bear-hug.

“Auf Wiedersehen, meine leibchen,” she said with a kiss. Now, Max blushed.

“Gute Nacht, Steffi.”

The children went to food street and chose individual dinners. Herr and Frau Muller ate brat and kraut, while Franz and Max enjoyed hamburger and fries. Afterwards, Herr Muller decided it was time to return home.

“Can we visit the Berlin Wall exhibit?” asked Max.

“Of course, Maxie,” said his mother.

So they changed their plans. Pieces of the Berlin Wall were gathered in one part of the festival. Each piece of the wall stood over fifteen feet high. Each piece of the Berlin Wall exhibit included pieces that had been painted by artists.

After parts of the wall came down, others remained standing. At first, graffiti artists painted their names on the wall. Later, more and more accomplished artists put fancy designs on the walls. Some included murals, or wall-sized paintings, while others included abstract designs of all kinds. Most, however, included political statements regarding the former life of the wall – a barricade to freedom, separating the two halves of Germany.

Max noticed that every piece of the wall had bullet holes across their surface.

“Did the Volkspolezei do this?” asked Max.

“Most bullet holes were actually from people.”

“Who were they shooting? The Volkspolezei?”

“They were shooting the wall. If they shot at the Volkspolezei, they might lose their lives.”

“Then why shoot the wall?”

“They were making a statement against the wall and for everything which it stood,” replied his father.

“It was a very difficult time for Germany,” added mother.

On the way home, the only thing Max could think about was the bullet holes. He wondered how people could be so mean to each other.After a while, he remembered Petra. Her name was a reminder of the wall. Max figured the best way for it not to happen again was to be sure to remember the past, good and bad.