Without speaking the language so as to be able to talk to anyone(other than Heidi, which had its drawbacks), and without car, phone, radio, or TV, I would spend long hours exploring on foot with you as my sidekick. I knew of no Americans living in Vohringen, so our circle was pretty small, except for Church on Sunday. So rove we would. Waiting for your Dad to return in the evenings. Hoping he would.
The Cold War was a dark shadow between the East and the West, and we lived oh so close to the Iron Curtain. If he were a few minutes late, I would start planning his funeral. Then ours, for I knew of no lifeline or way to reach out for help, should we need any. There was always a possibility that his unit would just be called out on alert with no notice, as that was constantly happening to others. They would be in the field for a week, or even several. Then it would just be you and I that would perish, with no food, no money, no transportation. But Dad was always lucky, and as a clerk, he was hardly Infantry, so I think one time he was gone for a couple of days. Obviously we all survived.
Anyway, we would walk everyday downtown, and one day in early January, the weather was lovely and I decided we would walk the 13 kilometers or so to the base in Neu Ulm and surprise your Father. I remember wearing a skirt and matching blouse and being bold and confident enough to leave coat and sweater behind. Thank goodness I brought a warm blanket for you, probably accidentally, because by the time we were 2 towns down the road, a snowstorm moved in. I have sometimes reflected what a pitiful sight that must have been for Germans driving by---your American stroller identified us, but probably not as much as my American lack of proper attire and common sense.
But there was no turning around, and was your Dad ever surprised to see us begging a ride home from him when he got off duty.
I never was a Boy Scout.
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