The War Ends in Liederberg

George Rebane

[This is another in a continuing series of autobiographical sketches that I have been asked to write by friends and family.  I share it with you, my readers, in the hope that these little vignettes (see 'My Story' category) of history and the American immigrant experience are of interest.  But most of all, I hope it may help you understand what shaped the lens through which I interpret our human story, and view the events that are the subjects of these commentaries.]

The German country road streamed like a ribbon from under the ¾ ton Army truck we were riding in on that May morning in 1945.  The war had ended a few days ago and now the little Rebane family was being taken back to a collection point in Augsburg for war refugees who were not German nationals.  I sat between mom and dad on some olive drab colored military looking boxes; we were facing backwards with our three makeshift suitcases piled at our feet.  This road from the little farming village of Liederberg passed through some incredibly green fields on this bright, sunny, and cloudless morning.  Our stay in that very ordinary Bavarian farm community lasted about three weeks, but these short weeks left us with a lifetime of memories – memories that simply were tossed now onto a very big pile of similar memories to be sorted out later.

We must have been a sight as we walked into Liederberg in the latter half of April.  Our party of four was made up of my mom and dad, me, and Rita.  Rita, good-looking and in her late twenties, was my mom’s friend from Estonia.  (How Rita joined us is a saga all of its own and not mine to tell.)  That morning we arrived in Monheim on a narrow gauge train that connected the small town to the city of Augsburg, thirty miles to the south.  Our little episode with the P-51s (see ‘1945 – The Year Easter was Cancelled’) convinced my dad that we would seek a less exciting place in which to wait for the arrival of Patton’s Third Army and the Americans.

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Comments

[Dave C]

Another good piece George. Thanks for your memories.

[Teine Rebane Kenney]

Daddy, keep writing. Don't stop. You're doing such a great job. I love the real time emotion that you share, it allows me to join together with your childhood wonderment and fear (or lack thereof!). Love, teine

[Russ]

George,

Thanks for sharing your story, a good reminder that we must always remember the lessons of history. Looking forward to the next chapter.

[Claire]

Love you Papa.