"I'll never forget that night"

I probably heard that phrase from my grandmother three times last night as I was driving her home from my parents house. We call her Oma, which means grandmother in German, and she lived through WWII while still living as a citizen in Germany. My grandfather, or Opa, fought for Germany during the war and after they were married they moved to Canada when my dad was 6. Needless to say both Oma and Opa had some incredible stories about the war. Being in the center of everything they both saw and experienced a lot.

As I looked at Oma last night after she spent the ride home telling me several stories that ended with "I'll never forget that night", I realized how much she's lived through. I couldn't help but that my respect for her grew tenfold and my praise for God increased that she survived at all.

I think I'm going to begin writing down the stories I've heard my grandparents tell over the years before I forget them all. Not only does it help understand who they are (or were since Opa has passed away), but it's history - and sometimes it's as blunt and personal as history gets.

What I heard last night.

"I worked in Mannheim (about 22 miles from where she lived) and every night a group of us girls had to walk home in the dark. And not just dark, but darker than dark. Every house's windows had to be blacked out and all street lights were out so the bombers wouldn't be able to tell exactly where the city was, and sometimes we'd fall into holes that a bomb had made earlier that day. Eventually we learned to carry a stick out in front of us to feel the ground for those holes. "One night about halfway home, we met some soldiers who were given orders and had to drive through Viernheim (her home city) and we asked for a ride. They agreed and we hopped in the back of the truck, but on the way they got new orders. They forgot we were in the back and by the time they stopped, we were back in Mannheim and had to walk another 22 miles to get home. I was so tired I didn't even eat - I just crawled in bed. As soon as I was asleep my father opened the door and said 'Suzie, they're getting close; you better come downstairs to the basement.' But before he'd even shut the door, I was out again. The next thing I knew, the glass from the windows was in my bed as the bomb hit on our street - and I ran downstairs barefoot as fast as I could."

Second story I heard.

"There was a lady who was walking home and my dad noticed her passing our house. He opened the door and told her that the planes were getting close - that she better come inside with us. The girl said she was just going to her grandmother's house the next street over and three houses down. The next morning we heard she'd been shot by the planes just as she was putting her bike against the wall."

Third one I heard."

One day I had to cross the Neckar river and right when I was in the middle of the bridge I saw planes coming. They started shooting at me and I ran and dove toward the side of the bridge and under a metal covering and I just layed there until the other planes had passed and everything was quiet again."

Another story.

"One night our whole street had gathered in a bunker because they reported a lot of planes coming. The way the bunker was built, it was divided up into walled areas so that if a bomb broke through, it wouldn't kill everyone. That day we heard 20 bombs dropped on us, but the bunker never caved in. Oh but you should have heard the children screaming. I can still close my eyes and hear those kids."

Another.

"One day they bombed, everyone on the street was killed accept one baby in a carriage. The mother had thrown herself over the carriage when she heard the planes coming and her body was still covering her baby when they found her. The mother had died, but her baby lived."

"Occasionally they would bomb with some poison and if it ever hit your skin, it would burn right through and they would have to immediately amputate your hand or foot or whatever. If you were too close, there wouldn't be anything left but a skeleton. That's why I hate to hear about war now. I know what it's like and the thought of it makes me sick to my stomach."