It all started back in Germany when my great grandfather met my great grandmother. They fell in love, got married and began creating a wonderful life together. In the time they were together, three children were produced, my Opa being the only boy. The only male heir to the family name. My great grandpa worked for the German government, and make a very decent living back then. However, it seems that working for the government made you more of a 'target' for the Nazi regime, and this is where Mrs. Top Gun's great grandpa became the hunted. My Opa tells our family that his father was taken out of their home in broad daylight, after the door was busted down by soldiers. Their home was ransacked, money, jewels, food were all stolen, yet somehow my great grandma and the children managed to escape. My Opa was about 13 years old when he saw his father being beaten and dragged out of their home by the SS. His sisters had married and managed to leave the country before this happened.
For the next few months, he lived with his mother- alone, defending his home and trying to finish school and provide food for them. One day, he came home after school and noticed his mother was still gone, so he inquired as to where she may be by asking the neighbors. They all told him she had gone to market earlier in the day, but nobody had seen her since. He spent all night searching for her, and the next day the horrible truth set in. He later found her run over in the streets by his home. The Russians saw her crossing the street, and they hit her. Half of her body was later found in pails of blood in a local barn. My Opa had to scoop her body up from the street, bury her and figure out what he was going to do. He had become a war orphan overnight.
This was during the most intense and horrific part of the Nazi invasion of Germany, and he had nobody but himself to look to. My Opa left his home the next day as the Nazi's rolled into town sweeping out anyone in their way. Somehow he managed to hide in the barns, basements, and under the beds of kind neighbors for a few months, taking what he was offered by each neighbor from their food rations. He survived on an old loaf of bread for a month. His belongings were carried in an old brown paper bag, and his clothes were soiled. One day, he was hiding under the bed of a neighbor when the Nazi's stormed the home. Under the bed, shaking and trying not to move, breathe or make a peep, he watched them ransack the home and harass the lady. The recollection of this memory is deep within him he says, and why? You see, a SS soldier happened to sit upon the very bed he was hiding under, bouncing up and down on it to see if anyone moved or came out. HE WAS LUCKY.
After they left, the neighbor gave him some food, a bit of money she had hidden and told him he needed to leave now, for she couldn't risk her life if they came back at night and found him. So, he left. He left Germany and somehow managed to get into Canada where his oldest sister had married an Army soldier, thus allowing a sponsorship of sorts for him. He didn't recognize his sister anymore, he had no papers, no 'proof' of him even existing. What he did have were horror stories and memories that would cause him to NEVER go back to germany again. He joined the Canadian Air Force, changed his given birth name to an american sounding one, and began his new life. His life eventually led him back to Germany (with the US Air Force) where he met my Oma and started his own family. My Dad was the only child born to them, with the blondest hair and the bluest eyes. My great grandpa had blonde hair and blue eyes, but that didn't matter to Hitler. When my Dad got an assignment in Germany, we had the opportunity and honor to tour the actual concentration camp where his grandpa, and my great grandpa was taken after his arrest.
Going into the camp we all knew our last name could possibly show up in the book of archives, but I don't think my Dad thought he was going to find anything. My Mom, little brother, myself and my Nana all waited outside the offices for him which felt like an eternity. A few minutes later my Dad walked out with a sheet of paper in his hand, looked at my Mom and I and said "He was here. My Grandpa was here." He then dropped to his knees on the cold, rough, and dark rocky gravel and sobbed. I was in third grade, and to this day the image of my Dad sobbing on the same rocks where his grandpa walked brings tears to my eyes. We later learned from further research and help from the Austrian archives, that my great grandpa had been in Dachau for a few months, 'fell ill' and was transported on an Invalids Transport to Hartheim Castle.
He wasn't ill. He was marked for execution, and the Nazi's had doctored all paperwork prior to the camps being liberated. Hartheim Castle was known for it's gas chambers and crematoriums, and that is where my great grandpa lived out his last moments on earth. All my family has of him is a picture and the documents with his inmate number tattooed on them. My Opa won't speak about his childhood anymore, and he hasn't been back to Germany in over 50 years. Seeing this movie tonight brought this post to life, and my MacBook is now covered in my tears. If you have a chance, please see this movie. It is phenomenal!
I hope I didn't ramble too much, but this is me and this is my heritage. People ask me if I hate Germans for what they did, and my answer has always been the same: "No." Hitler and his Nazi Regime destroyed billions of lives, tore apart families and created war orphans like my Opa. The German people are dear to my heart, and always will be.