Mr. andMrs. B

A Story AboutMy Parents

Thisis the ChatGPT translation from my Swedish text.
The translationmay therefore contain errors.

She lookedaround the small apartment, marveling at everything. The stainlesssteel sink with running hot and cold water, the refrigerator, theelectric stove with oven, the radiator connected to central heating,the small toilet. There was no bathtub in the apartment, but therewas a shared bath in the basement. Then my mother turned to my fatherand said, "Is all this ours?" "Yes," replied myfather. "Everything you see here is ours now." At that, mymother shed tears of joy. Such luxury she could not even have dreamedof. In our days, this apartment might have been considered quiteprimitive, but for my mother, it was luxury.

That's how itstarted, my parents' life in the new country. More than 100 milesfrom their old hometowns. New country and new language. Even for mysister, who was three years old at the time, everything was new.After playing outside for a while, she came to my mother and said,"Mom ... the kids talk so strangely here," but she quicklylearned the new language, as children do at that age. However, myparents never properly learned Swedish. Sure, they understoodeverything that was said, and yes, they could make themselvesunderstood. But their grammar was terrible. Something I sometimesfelt embarrassed about in my teenage years. I often told my mother,"You can't think in German and speak Swedish. You have to learnto think in Swedish." But she never did. Neither did my father.But as I said, now they stood there with their little daughter in thenew country after a long journey. But the journey there had been longin many ways.

Mom came fromthe fairly small island of Norderney. The second largest island ofthe East Frisian Islands. A group of islands in the North Sea. Wheremy sister was also born. Dad came from the northern German city ofWilhelmshaven. It was probably in Wilhelmshaven that my parents met.Dad played the violin in a small band, a small orchestra. Momapparently thought that the young man playing the violin looked verynice. And eventually, a liking developed between them.

But theirromance was soon put to the test when World War II intervened. Butthey stayed together despite the raging war, and in 1944, they gotmarried. Like all couples who married during the Nazi era, theyreceived the obligatory wedding gift. Adolf Hitler's "MeinKampf."

A book that Istill have among my possessions. I've tried to read it, but it's noteasy. Partly because it's printed in an old Gothic style, which Ifind difficult to interpret. Then one feels a bit uncomfortablereading this historical work with the benefit of hindsight. Myparents probably haven't even opened it. It's still in the samecondition as new. Of course, my father was called up as a soldier inthe war. After basic training, Dad had to choose between the infantryor the paratroopers. The infantry, then Dad would probably have endedup on the Russian front. Dad certainly didn't want that. So, the onlyoption left was the paratroopers. This required signing a documentstating that one understood the risk of jumping out of a planewithout prior training. Dad's comrades argued that this was suicide.It was signing their own death warrant. But Dad argued that no planeswere flying anymore. They simply didn't have any fuel left. And Dadwas right. They did pass by the flight school, but indeed, all theplanes were still on the ground. Unfueled. So, Dad ended up with theparatroopers. Stationed in Italy of all places. Where in Italy, Idon't know, but probably somewhere in the north. As I said, there wasnever any parachuting. So, what would they have Dad do instead? Itturned out that Dad had the ability to arrange and organize things.So, he ended up as a company clerk. At one point, his task was toarrange office supplies. He found out that there were some availablein another company a bit away. Okay, but how would he transport thegoods? A car was out of the question, as there was indeed a shortageof fuel. The only options were a mule and a cart. They would have todo. Dad hitched the mule in front of the cart and off they went. Itwent well until they reached their destination and he got the goodsthey needed. The goods were loaded onto the cart, and they set offback to the company. But the return journey didn't go as smoothly.Suddenly, there was an air raid. I don't think Dad was shot at, but aplane flew at low altitude and the poor mule panicked and bolted. Dadmanaged to jump off the cart unharmed, but he never saw the mule andthe cart with the cargo again.

Dad didn't talkmuch about his time in Italy. But one day, it seemed that the war wascoming to an end. Dad and his comrades decided that it was time to gohome. So, they set off in the only way possible, on foot. But the warwasn't quite over yet. At one point, they ended up in an ambush andwere shot at by partisans. They managed to take cover, and thepartisans left. Afterward, their group leader asked if anyone was hitor injured. No, fortunately, they all escaped unharmed. Suddenly, thegroup leader looked down into his breast pocket where he had a thicknotebook. He took it out and saw that there was a bullet stuck in it.Probably a ricochet. If it had been a direct hit, it would have endedbadly. So, everything turned out fine that time, but it was reallyclose.

They continuedtheir long march, but as they approached the Alps, they encountered agroup of British soldiers blocking their path. They asked where theywere going. Home, they replied. Home to Germany. The war is over,after all. No, you can't. You have to turn back. But there wasnowhere to turn back to, so they ended up being captured. So now theyhad become prisoners of war. What would happen now? They wanted to gohome. But that didn't happen. It would be a while before Dad wouldsee his hometown and Mom again. Instead, Dad and his comrades wereput on a boat that transported them to North Africa. Specifically, toEl-Alamein. Meanwhile, Mom had no idea where Dad had gone. She knewhe was in Italy but nothing more. She didn't know if he was stillthere or if he was alive. She knew nothing. For more than ninemonths, she lived in uncertainty. Then she finally received a sign oflife. A little letter, or rather a card, sent via the Red Cross. Itsaid, "I am in a prisoner of war camp in El-Alamein. I amunharmed and well."

This card stillexists. My sister has it in her possession.

Photo of thecard Mom received.

Now Mom finallyknew what had happened to Dad. He was a prisoner but he was okay. Itwould be over two years before Mom and Dad would meet again. Dadtried to make the best of the situation.

Initially, itwas the English who ran the camp. The English hated the Germans andwere full of vengeance. Something Dad and his comrades felt. Theywere subjected to a lot of harassment. Later, the Americans took overcommand, and things immediately got better. The Americans didn't havethe same thirst for revenge. They hadn't been subjected to the sameruthless bombings as the British.

Time in thecamp probably passed slowly. But Dad had a bit of luck despiteeverything. He got a job as a cinema projectionist. Well... there wasno cinema available, it was an outdoor cinema. Two cinema projectorswere housed in a bus. The bus traveled around to different camps.There were several camps scattered around. How many, I don't know,but there were probably quite a few. Dad would later try to make acareer out of being a cinema projectionist. But I'll come to thatlater. So, Dad had something to do, and time passed. One day, Dadfound out that there were people in the camp who had beenlower-ranking officers. He knew that his brother-in-law could be oneof them. He went to the commandant's office and asked if there mightbe a Wolfram Matschoss in the camp. "Why do you ask?" "He'smy brother-in-law." "Wait, let me see... Yes, he's here."

"Could Ipossibly see him?" "Yes, okay, follow me." They wentto where he was. "Wait here outside, I'll go get him. You can'tcome in." He went in. "Is there a Wolfram Matschoss here?""Yes, that's me." "Come with me! You have a visitor."And suddenly, they stood face to face. "What on earth are youdoing here?" "I was just about to ask you the same thing,"Dad said. And so the years went by, and it was 1948. It was time forWolfram (Uncle Wolf) to be allowed to go home. Home to his belovedwife. My aunt, Aunt Hanni. Who lived on the same island as Mom.

It was, ofcourse, a dear reunion. But Mom still missed Dad, of course. It wouldprobably be a while before Hans (my dad) came home again. But itdidn't take that long. Two weeks later, Dad was home too. The war wasfinally over for Dad, and he got to see his beloved wife again. Theyhad, after all, survived the difficult war years. It was worse forDad's brother Herbert. He died in a plane crash in France. The pilotcame in too high or too fast. I don't really know. But the pilottried to abort the landing but failed. One wing hit a landing beaconand crashed. The only survivor was the tail gunner. And it wasn'tDad's brother. He was the navigator. A very tragic event. But he wasthe only one of my close relatives who didn't survive the war. I oncesaid to my Dad, "You did pretty well in the war, didn't you?""No," said Dad, "I did damn well. Dad once met someonewho asked him what vintage he was. "1915," Dad replied."And you're still alive!?" "Yes, unfortunately."Not many from Dad's generation survived the war. Not all of them hadit so good either. I had an uncle who ended up in Russia. He was oneof the few who came back alive. Admittedly, in reasonably goodphysical health. But with deep scars in his soul. It took him morethan 40 years before he could talk about what he had experienced. Butas I said, Dad came through the war physically and mentally intact.And now Dad was finally home again. But now a difficult and toughtime began for Mom and Dad. Dad had to find a job, and it wasn'teasy. The island where Mom and Dad lived was a typical resort, atourist island. Job opportunities were few. In the summer, there weresome seasonal jobs. But during the rest of the year, it was worse.Dad got a temporary job building breakwaters along the beach. Mommanaged to get a job selling tickets at the city cinema. Dad alsoapplied for a job as a lighthouse keeper. If the job was rewarding,Dad didn't know. But it came with a service apartment, and that wassomething that appealed to Mom and Dad. But unfortunately, it didn'twork out. So they had to stay in the small apartment that was housedwith my maternal grandparents. A little cramped and primitive. Butthen the cinema where Mom worked advertised for a cinemaprojectionist. It suited Dad perfectly. It was a job he could do. SoDad went to the cinema owner and asked about the job. "Do youhave a master's degree?" "No, Dad didn't." "Ifyou take the master's exam, you'll have the job." So Dad wentoff. I think it was to the city of Emden to take the exam. And hepassed the exam with flying colors. Happy and with the master'sdegree in hand, he returned home. On the train home, he met an oldfriend and told him that he had been promised a job if he passed themaster's exam. The friend looked at Dad with surprise. "That'sstrange," he said. "But that position has already beenfilled." "So he's tricked me," said Dad. "Yes...apparently." Very disappointed, Dad came home again. Dad wantedto sue the cinema owner. But Mom said that it wouldn't get himanywhere. He had no evidence. Just an oral promise, and it was hisword against theirs. Mom was so angry that she wanted to quit sellingtickets. But Dad argued that they couldn't afford to give up thatincome. So they just had to swallow the disappointment and try tomove on. It was a continued struggle for existence, and with time, mysister also came into the world. Mom asked Dad if they would everhave a better life. My grandfather had a plumbing business, andsometimes Dad had to help out in the business. But it wasn't really ajob. But then one day, an advertisement appeared in the newspaperthat they were looking for workers in Sweden. The employer would payfor the trip to Sweden, and accommodation was provided. Mom and Dadstared at the advertisement. "What do you say?" said Dad."Well, it can't be worse than what we have now."

Eventually, Momand Dad made the very difficult decision to leave their loved onesand their homeland and go to a new and foreign country 100 milesaway.

So just beforeChristmas 1950, Dad set off. First alone, to see what the new countryhad to offer. As I said, it was no easy decision. But it was thedream of a better life that enticed them. Even if it came with itsprice. But Dad was promised a permanent job as a mechanic at AllmännaSvenska Elektriska Aktiebolag, or simply ASEA, in Ludvika. This time,there was no bluff. The employer wondered where the rest of thefamily was. They're still in Germany. Why? Make sure they come hereas soon as possible. We've arranged the apartment. And it didn't takelong before the little family was reunited. And there was my mother,tears in her eyes, looking at the small apartment. It was quitesimply furnished. Probably with contributions from the employer. Dadhad also arranged for a radio. Bought on installment, if I remembercorrectly. They wanted some news and information from the homeland.This was long before the time of the Internet and satellite TV. SomeGerman weekly newspapers were probably also available.

So Dad'severyday life started six days a week. They also worked on Saturdaysback then. Half the Saturday, that is. We also went to school halfthe Saturday in the 1960s. But that's a whole other story. Mom was ahousewife, as it was beautifully called at the time. The man wassupposed to support the family, and the wife was supposed to stay athome and take care of the home and children. I say supposed to.Well... it was almost an unwritten law. Gender roles were deeplyingrained, and no one questioned them. Fortunately, those things havechanged. But that's how it was back then. Mom and Dad probablysettled into their new life fairly quickly. They quickly made newfriends. It turned out that they weren't the only ones who had comefrom Germany to seek their fortune in Sweden. It was still thepost-war period. Sweden had survived the war well. No bombs haddestroyed Swedish industry. The rest of the world needed Swedishgoods to rebuild war-torn Europe. So Swedish industry was booming.But there was a shortage of qualified labor.

Years went by,and after three years, in the summer of 1953, Mom and Dad had savedup enough to go on vacation to their home country for the first time.The industry vacation had established itself in the country, and Dadhad a "whole" three weeks of vacation. So now it wasfinally going to happen. They were going to see their loved onesagain. Contact had only been maintained via letters. Mom and Daddidn't have a phone. We didn't get that until the mid-1960s. Besides,it was very expensive to call Germany back then.

But now theywere off. First by train to Stockholm, and then on to Trelleborg andthen by boat, the "Drottning Viktoria," to Travemünde. Anine-hour boat trip in scorching summer heat.

FromTravemünde, the journey continued to the small town of Norddeich onthe North Sea coast, and then by boat to the island of Norderney. NowMom got to see her old childhood home again. Reunite with herparents. A dear reunion. They stayed on the island for a while andhopefully enjoyed the nice summer weather. After that, the journeycontinued. First to the city of Oldenburg, where they visited Mom'ssister Erna. One of Mom's seven siblings. After Oldenburg, thejourney continued to Wilhelmshafen, Dad's hometown, where Dad got tosee his parents again.

The three weeksof vacation went by quickly, and it was time to return to Sweden. Thesame long way back. Back to everyday life.

To be continued