A trip over the Atlantic awaited us. In early April 1946 a 10,000-ton Liberty ship, which had brought back American soldiers, was to become our home for the ocean journey to the old continent. The Liberty ships had been built on the assembly line during the war and hundreds of them were cruising the oceans. They were very slow but seaworthy. We found out from the captain that our destination was La Havre, France. Since the U.S.Army had invested in a democratic education for our group during the last three months, we were also told that we were scheduled to be discharged in Germany and not turned over to the French. Our depressed mood of the last six months was swept away and an exhilarating feeling of thanks and joy took its place. We eagerly threw our duffel bags into our bunks, which were arranged four on top of each other. As the ship took off slowly from the pier a tug pushed us into the Hudson river. In the distance I saw a half submerged large boat with two smoke stacks in the harbor. The captain told us that this was the "Ile De France," which had been destroyed by a fire in the harbor and had sunk. They planned to raise it later. I felt some compassion for the fate of this handsome boat which had taken us in two months and three-quarters around the globe. The daily meals of mutton morning, noon and night were long since forgotten.

Our boat left New York harbor in an icy rainstorm. This time there were no restrictions, so we stayed on deck and watched the skyline of New York disappear in the rain clouds. Our feelings were mixed--partly a fiestalike mood, partly filled with fear of the unknown future everyone had to face. Eleven months had passed without a single letter from home! As soon as the ship reached the open sea, huge 20 to 30-foot rollers hit the bow and each time threw water over the bridge. The ship rolled and bounced us around so that half of the prisoners became seasick. The few comrades who had made the trip from Egypt over South Africa and Australia to the U.S. seemed to be immune against seasickness. We put on our army raincoats and watched on the foredeck the up and down motion of the boat hour after hour. I let the salty spray hit my face. It felt like a cleansing splurge which washed my face to rinse off the bad memories of the last five years. I knew the ship was bringing us closer to Germany every moment. After four days the storm let up and the rest of the prisoners could start eating again. The spring sun broke through the clouds and calmed the ocean. It was already the second half of April when I saw the coast of France. The small group of guards under the command of a lieutenant were to turn us over to a new group of soldiers in Le Havre. They had told us during the sea voyage that the harbor of Le Havre was practically controlled by German prisoners. Every American soldier who was being shipped back home had to come to Le Havre, the main transit camp for boarding a return vessel to the U.S.

Any American officer in any function at the port saw to it that he was the first one on a ship heading for home. No one was eager to run this camp and be left behind. The easiest way to get away was to turn over the day-to-day management to groups of German prisoners of war. Many soldiers from units in transit sometimes had to wait for weeks for a place on a boat. If they wanted to get squeezed into an earlier transport, they had to bribe a German soldier. They told us also that a million dollars worth of American army supplies, mainly food, had disappeared in Le Havre without a trace. Everybody wanted to get home and didn't give a damn what was left behind.

With this situation in mind we left the ship carrying our tightly stuffed duffel bags on our backs and some hand baggage with us. I could see a long train of boxcars standing only a few hundred yards from the pier and hoped that this was meant for us. But the two guards in front and back of the column led the long row of prisoners away from the train. A group of German prisoners who took care of the harbor business was walking 100 feet behind us. Some French harbor workers were among them. The guards were leading us past the train on a road between the storage sheds. I had put on my old German military overcoat to avoid carrying it. I had a parcel in one hand and the duffel bag on my shoulder. Everyone was loaded with similar baggage, only mine had the heavy medical books in the bag. After a quarter-mile walk among the sheds between the piers several prisoners had to stop for a few seconds to unload some of their excess baggage. The German Le Havre prisoners and French workers had waited for just such a moment to collect the abandoned items. I was already bathed in sweat under the weight of my baggage but was determined not to give up anything. The march had extended already to a half mile. More and more of us had to get rid of our cherished items. The whole march was a collusion between the guards and the German prisoners who figured that we had precious things in our big bags. New guards turned up around the last shed and headed us back toward the train. After walking for 20 more minutes with our maximum load, we ended up where we had started -- at the boxcar train. Totally exhausted and soaked through and through, we climbed into the boxcars. Our fear of being turned over to the French had not materialized.

The sun was just ready to set as the train finally took off. Nobody wanted to sleep. Everybody was talking about his family, about his girlfriend and what he would do when he came home. The latest letter from Irmgard had been mailed from Diessen am Ammersee and was one year old. Would I still find her there? A box with army C-rations had been left in each car for us. The train moved slowly through the countryside, stopping occasionally to let passenger trains pass. We all felt as if we were in a dream. With every turn and straightaway the steamlocomotive brought us closer to Germany. With the first light of dawn we approached the city of Saarbrücken. As they changed locomotives, we had a chance to meet the first German civilians. They looked at us slightly perplexed with our clothes blue-dyed and a large "PW" painted on our backs. When we told them that we came from America, they asked us whether we had cigarettes. We gave them each a pack. Most of the prisoners had bought ten cartons before we left. We went to the front of the train and talked to the engineer, hoping to get an idea of which way he would take us to Bad Aibling, our designated discharge camp in Bavaria.

"This train will travel mainly on secondary tracks so as not to interfere with the passenger traffic," he explained.. "I have it written down through which cities and villages we will travel. Do you have a pencil.?" Then he gave us the exact scheduled route.

"When the train stops in front of a red signal, please blow your whistle before you take off, so we can board the train again," we begged him and fortified our request with a pack of cigarettes.

We had several soldiers whose homes were in some of the villages we would pass through. A rush to the station's telephones took place to alert some of the relatives to watch for the train as it would pass their village. Some went to the engineer and gave him a carton of cigarettes if he would stop the train at two specific villages. We had not learned yet how valuable a pack of cigarettes was and the prisoners were surprised as the engineer accepted the carton and said he would try to stop at these villages. The six American guards with us did not care what we did as long as we got back on the train in time when it started up again. They warned us not to leave the train all together since we would receive regular discharge papers in Bad Aibling and a railroad ticket to our city of choice.

As the train took off from Saarbrücken, the rising sun was bathing the passing landscape with its golden rays. The first green was sprouting and gave the fields a fresh tinge of new growth. Germany had never looked lovelier to us than in those spring days. We waved at everyone working in the fields, greeted every person as we passed a village. In our enthusiasm we threw a pack of cigarettes or a box of crackers to them. The engineer kept his promise. Often the train came to halt in front of a signal. We all went onto the tracks and talked to the people to get the latest news. As he had promised, the engineer blew the whistle once before he set the train in motion or twice when he knew a train was approaching. He managed to stop the train at the two villages where family members had assembled to greet the two prisoners. The engineer received more cigarettes and chocolate than he had probably gotten all year. We could not see enough of the sparkling countryside which had survived the war unscathed. The cities had to bear the brunt of the destruction. It was after midnight when we arrived at Bad Aibling, too late to call up the chimney sweep in Diessen to find out whether Irmgard was still there. The next morning I got Frau Hilger, the chimney sweep's wife, on the phone.

"Do You have a Fräulein. Irmgard Oberst staying with you?"

"Yes, we have a Fräulein Irmgard living in our house also a Frau Susanne Klausing. Who is this calling?" I told her my name. "You must be the one who is engaged to Irmgard. She has been waiting for you a long time. Where are you?"

"I am in Bad Aibling, in an American prisoner-of-war camp. I am scheduled to be released in the next few days and hope to arrive in Diessen soon."

"I will tell Fräulein Oberst. She is out of town right now. We hope to see you in a few days. I will call Susanne Klausing. Please stay on the line." After a while I heard Susanne's voice.

"Who is on the line,?" she asked. I told her my name. For a few moments there was silence. "Jürgen, I have to give you some bad news. Both of your parents died during the last few days of the war. Your mother was killed during a bombing attack on Berlin. The whole apartment house burned down. Your sisters and brother are living in Karlshafen. Your father died in a hospital in Bad Pyrmont. Neither one of your parents knew that the other had died. I think it is better that you know before you get here. When will you be released? "

"I am certain that I can leave Bad Aibling within a few days."

"I can't wait to tell Irmgard. Two days ago she went to Munich and we expect her back tonight. I hope to see you soon." With that she hung up. The tears were streaming down my face. I had not expected such bad news. The only place left for me to go was to Irmgard in Diessen. Now it was necessary to see that I could be discharged as soon a possible, so I could make the last short trip of my five-year-long odyssey around the world. It was five years ago, in March 1941, that I had seen Irmgard the last time. After three days I finally received my discharge papers together with the railroad ticket. There was a morning train leaving Bad Aibling for Munich. I shouldered my duffel bag, took the hand baggage and walked to the station. When the train entered Munich, I saw the severe destruction of the city for the first time. Whole city blocks were leveled. I asked a passenger whether the university was still standing. "Alles kaput," was the answer. I had to wait in Munich to change trains. This train stopped at Augsburg, where I had to change to still another train. Finally, I was headed for Diessen. The last 45 minutes lasted forever! I think the train stopped at eight villages before I saw the sign:"Diessen." It was noontime when the train finally stopped. I looked for Irmgard and saw her waving at me in the distance. The tears started rolling down my cheeks when I embraced her. I forgot all that I had wanted to say to her. I just wanted to hold her for a while without words. Then we walked slowly toward the exit and on to the village street toward a new beginning.

There was so much to talk about. Irmgard spoke to me about her experiences during the last six years and I talked to her about America and my determination to return to the States. Irmgard was willing to embark on such an adventure. So, we decided to get married as soon as possible.