Bill and Trudy

I'm not sure just when G met Bill, but it was soon after my arrival. Bill started picking up G on their way to Vogelweh and was soon coming to the apartment to pick him up. Bill told his wife, Trudy, where I was and she came to find me. Bill was from Michigan, almost a neighbor. Trudy was from Heidelberg. My first German friend. Her English was still laced with a strong German accent and, to my amusement, was pepperd with some profanities. How could it be otherwise when she learned a lot of her English from her G.I. Hubbey and his friends. I've been lucky enough to stay in contact with these two wonderful friends all these years. They are now in Michigan, still almost neighbors, and e-mail has made keeping in touch a lot easier. They gave me permission to use their names.

Trudy took me shopping in Kaiserslautern, and gave me my first experience with the cable cars. With Trudy, I could go anywhere. She is so upbeat and I love being with her. She was pregnant when we first met. And, Marty was born just about the same time I discovered I was pregnant, So, she was a big help to me during that time. Germany is a long way from family in Ohio when you're pregnant.

I don't know now why Bill was selling his Volkswagon. He must have gotten something else, but we bought his car. Even though they didn't ride to work together, our friendship grew and we got together a lot, usually to play cards. The only American card game Trudy knew was canasta. I had to learn canasta because I came from euchre country. We played a lot of canasta. Also a little euchre, and some hearts. After Marty was born, we usually played at their apartment. It's easier to keep a baby home then to drag along all the stuff they need.

Trudy also invited us along on several trips to Heidelberg to visit her family. I felt like they more or less adopted G and I. Trudy always had to translate, but I was learning to understand more. Those times with her family would have been the perfect time to learn to speak German. I've kicked myself hundreds of times since, because I didn't. The funny thing about the language situation was that, at the time, Bill still wasn't communicating real well with his In-Laws. That is, till he and the Welk's had a bit to drink. The more they drank, the better they could communicate. And, Herr Welk made the best fruit flavored Brandies. I wasn't use to having alcohol aroung, but everyone drinks in Europe. Frau and Herr Welk introduced me to a home made fruit brandy that has never been duplicated, let alone topped.

I want to add right here, that there was never any annimosity when the young Americans were in their home. There was a snapshot on the wall of their home of Herr Welk in the Uniform of a Horse Soldier and standing beside his horse. I asked Trudy about it and she answered with pride that he had served his country in the war. Then she made sure I understood he was not a Nazi. The Germans I met, even those in the war, were not Nazi believers or followers. They had been young people who were misled and as adults were not proud of what their country was known for. They loved their homeland, and were willing to die for it, but there were very few average Germans who could actually be called Nazi. There was never any hint that Herr Welk was an enemy to my own paratrooper Father in any way. They hoped I understood, that awful past had nothing to do with now.

My favorite experience of the whole two years was with these people. Trudy invited us to join them on butchering day. Farms in Germany weren't way out in the country. They were part of the towns and cities and circled the edges. Her family was butchering a hog. I was no stranger to butchering or cutting up meat. We'd had a hog fall on ice and had to butcher it right there in our barnyard. But, I learned that day that it wasn't at all like butchering in Germany. The first difference was the size of the animal. This hog was huge. The second difference was, they don't waste anything.

I watched Herr Welk pin the animal against the butchering table with his legs and knees. Then he leaned across the animals back and reached under to grab it's legs. In one swift motion he had lifted that big hog and layed it on the table and slit it's throat before the hog even had time to struggle. One squeal when it's legs first left the ground and it was over. Herr Welk was a solid built man, but I was amazed at the casual show of strength. I'd never met anyone who could lift a big hog like that. (Or since)

My next lesson was how wasteful we Americans are. There was a tub in place to catch the blood before they even started. Trudy's brothers-in-law and a couple other men were there to help. Everyone had a task and it was obvious they all knew exactly what to do, and this wasn't the first time they had worked together. Bill and G were go-fers and in no time at all the hide was off and various parts were starting the process to make use of them. The hide was scraped and the hair was saved, hooves were being boiled for glue. I didn't see what everything was used for because they found a job for me. There was a grin on Herr Welks face that gave me a clue. This big man had a plan and it had something do to with teasing the young American farm girl.

Sausage (wurst) is a mainstay in the German diet. There are many different kinds of sausage. The blood is cooked and seasoned for Blood Wurst. Other parts are kept for special sausages. What has no other use is added to meat and ground into the sausage, which is stuffed after cooking into the cleaned intestines. That is what Herr Welk had in mind for the self proclaimed farm girl. To see how I would do on the grinder. It resembled the grinders I was use to, only bigger. It clamped to the side of a table and had a hand crank. Everything was ground raw and then put in an enormous cast iron kettle over an open fire to cook.

There are men who make at least part of their living with their own spice and herb blends. When a family butchers, they bring in the man who's recipe they like best. He arrives with his mixture already prepared in little cloth bags, so his recipe is kept a secret. He alone is in charge of the kettles and cooking and seasoning the sausage.

My job started as soon as the actual cutting started. Chunks of raw meat were carried over and added as I stood and cranked. The grins and comments started. They brought me the tongue. I just smiled and kept cranking. Some of what they tossed in there was pretty disturbing, but I managed to continue my cranking. I knew they were trying to make me gag and I was determined not to. I have to admit, I did turn beet red when Herr Welk himself carried over the penis and poked it in the grinder. But, I kept going dispite the hoots and hollars. The only thing that almost did me in, didn't make me sick to my stomach. It was a weirder sensation. They dropped in the two eye balls. And, they wouldn't go down. They just rolled around on top and watched me. Rolling around in different directions, and one at a time keeping an eye on me. And I couldn't bring myself to poke them down into the grinder. The just kept rolling around on top. I said I had to go to the bathroom and I left. Didn't fool anyone. The men did give me a cheer though. I'd made it through everything else.