General Discussion

…Her father grew up in a home in Texas where German was his first language. In World War 2, he and his brother enlisted and became members of the USAAF. His brother was a skilled aviator and trained B-25 pilots. My FiL was a navigator on a B-17G, flying missions to bomb targets in his family’s home cities, including Bonn and Köln.

After the war, the two branches reunited when one of the German cousins came to the US as a NATO officer, helping to rebuild the Bundeswehr and make West Germany a democratic bulwark against Russia. On his travels, he would visit a major city and look in the phone book for someone with the same, somewhat rare, German surname. Thus, the two branches reconnected in Houston in the 1960s.

I had the honor of meeting the gentleman and his extended family in Münich in 2017. Then long-retired from the military, he saw that the family would gather annually for All -Saints Day at the family memorial in a remarkable forest cemetery in the city. Then they would take over a floor of a nearby restaurant to remember and commemorate the family. Only those who got up and dressed for the memorial service would be welcome at the luncheon. And they invited my wife and me to attend.

As part of the remembrance, the family patriarch led a slide presentation showing the images of family members to remember. Grandparents, parents, siblings, aunts, cousins and uncles. To welcome my wife and I to the family, they included where we fit into the family tree with a slide show presentation. Unbelievably, they out this together on short notice: There were our faces and names.

The presentation continued, and images of two family lost in the war were presented. One was in the uniform of the Kriegsmarine and the other was a pilot in the Luftwaffe. Both were in dress uniform. I thought of my grandfather and his brothers who wore US uniforms to fight these guys. I looked carefully at each and saw both were officers and that neither wore emblems of the murderous SS. When I looked back at the group I was with, every man’s eyes were on mine. Instantly, I understood they wanted to gauge my expression and see what I saw examining the two portraits.

The German side made us feel like we were at home. They wondered why I — a Spanglish speaking Puerto Rican guy — could speak (very) elementary German, while my wife could not? It didn’t much matter, anyway, as the Germans wanted to do most of the talking, particularly the patriarch. I did get asked a lot how in the world America could elect Trump?

In previous reunions, the German NATO officer patriarch had exchanged with his cousin, my FiL, that his father’s unit had often flown against the 8th Air Force on which his cousin flew for the US. They talked about the horrors of war, losing family and friends; and even finding lost family while walking in miles-long lines of refugees as a young child after the war. The cousins respected one another, and the families still love one another.

The NATO officer cousin passed a few years back. I am proud to say in the few hours we shared, and the few minutes I had the floor, I got to thank him for helping defend Democracy in Germany and in the United States. He understood exactly what and how I meant it.