Childhood19

Working as a Fire Fighter Trainee
7350th Sup Sq, INST ENG, Fire Department Operational Crews,
Tempelhof Central Airport, Berlin, Germany

As time passed, I started to really enjoy my job. One day Herr Gaertner decided that I should learn how to drive. With permission of

our T/Sgt. Quarles, he took the little VW pick-up bus, seen in the picture above on the far right, drove it in front of the garage and told me that it was time for me to practice driving. Now, I must point out that I had never driven a car before and that this red VW bus was equipped with a standard four speed shift on the floor which wasn't synchronized in the first gear. Which meant that one had to double-clutch in order to start driving.... After demonstrating to me what needed to be done to drive this thing, he stopped the bus, got out and told me to get into the driver's seat. I was excited and apprehensive at the same time. What if I screwed up and steered the bus into a ditch or whatever? The possibilities for failure seemed endless. But trusting Herrn Gaertner completely and feeling very comfortable with his kind and understanding manner, I climbed in with Herrn Gaertner sitting next to me and instructing me calmly in what to do. -First, go through the gear shift and learn what it feels like with one foot on the clutch and the other foot on the brake.... Then, step on the clutch, shift into first gear, and step on the clutch again and let it gently come up. Of course, I jerked off my foot too fast and the VW stalled. Well, Herr Gaertner laughed at my stunned expression and explained again that I had to let the clutch come up "easy". I went though the same procedure again, and lo and behold, we started to take off with only a slight jerking. Wow, I felt like a pilot having completed his first solo flight.... Herr Gaertner told me to step on the clutch again, only once this time, and put the shift into second gear. It worked fine, although it seemed a little difficult to just find the right notch for the gear leaver...
We were driving along the access road which lead around the entire airport. By now I was in fourth gear, and driving along like a pro. God, I was so proud of myself! Before we came to where one of the runways began, Herr Gaertner told me to come to a complete halt. He then used the radio with which every vehicle was equipped, called the tower and asked for permission to cross the runway area. Since there was no airplane approaching, he received immediate permission in static sounding English, to proceed. I did my double clutching again and we took off with a jerking jump, but the bus didn't stall. By this time I was sweating nervously, because in my racing mind and excited mental state, I saw myself stalling the bus right in the middle of the approaching runway. But we crossed without incident and I began to relax again. After driving all around the airport from the Tempelhof side, to the Neukoelln side and back to Tempelhof, we came to an area where the "Wings Club" and other clubs were located near the Columbiadamm and for the first time we encountered "traffic". There were "stop signs" and yellow arrows, signs in English and German, yellow and white traffic lines and a lot of large American cars. Stop, double-clutch, go, stop again, double-clutch and go... over and over again. My shirt was soaked under the arm-pits, my foot trembling and only Herrn Gaertner's calm, re-assuring voice made it possible for me to get through this whole mess without a glitch. We approached the tarmac area where I could see people embarking and entering planes by the movable steps then in use. At a certain point Herr Gaertner had me come to a complete stop again while he asked the tower for permission to cross the tarmac area. Permission was granted and I drove, ever so proudly by all those planes and people. Finally we were back at the fire-station and I parked the VW in front of the garage. Herr Gaertner said that we had to move it into the garage which meant that the bus had to be backed into a narrow area next to the ambulance. Since it involved having to go in reverse at an angle and then straightening the vehicle parallel to the ambulance, Herr Gaertner thought it would be best if he drove it in. I, being all fired up and proud of my "achievement" so far, begged him to let me do it. Big mistake! He relented reluctantly as I backed in. Everything went well, until I had to straighten the VW. Looking into my left side mirror and also watching Herrn Gaertner give me signals, I somehow hit the left door against the garage gate frame and put a substantial dent into the VW's left door. The grating noise coming from the vehicle door being smashed by my ineptitude brought everyone at the station running and gawking at me with unbelief and even laughter.... I was so embarrassed. On top of it all, this VW bus was used by our American station chief T/Sgt. Quarles for all his airport runs! I was in a state of shock. Shaking and probably pale as snow, I stood there and couldn't believe that I had done this. T/Sgt. Quarles came running out of his office and just stood there looking at me with, what seemed to me at the moment, with total disgust. But I was mistaken about that because, having probably sensed my shame and humiliation, he ran up to me, patted me on the back and laughingly told me not to worry. And with him as an example, everybody else too just laughed the accident off as something that could happen to everyone. Had I only listened to Herrn Gaertner's wisdom and knowledge! But, life went on. Of course, I was the but of many jokes, jibes and a lot of teasing for many month to come, but it was all good-natured and never malicious. Being the youngest by far, I was treated almost like a mascot and could get away with many things which might have caused others their job.

Some time after I had started at the fire department, I new member to our crew was introduced. He was even smaller and lighter built than I but probably five years older. His name was Kurtzweg, I can't remember his first name because everybody, right from the start called him "shorty". And this was not only because he was short, but because of his last name which could be translated as "short-way". So he was double short and thus his name "shorty". We became good friends and after a while he told me that he was Jewish and had been born in Shanghai, China. He was quite a character, eccentric with a "bohemian bent"... At least, that is how he wanted to be seen. Being well read and interested in politics as well as spirituality, we soon found each other, as it takes an "outsider" to almost smell another "outsider". He was what I would call an "existentialist" with a passionate hatred for everything military, German or American, while I was the total opposite in that respect. Nevertheless, despite our differences, we had also much in common. One thing though, I could never understand how he had ended up working as a fireman for the US Air-force.... To me, and everybody else, he was about as unsuited for this kind of a job as a pacifist in the military. But, there he was and I never asked him how he had gotten this job either. He did tell me though that he had previously worked as a "sentinel" for the semi-military US-Army German Labor Service. This somehow excited me and I constantly pursued him to tell me more about this "Labor Service". Since he hated the military so much, he was reluctant to give me much information about it. Perhaps he suspected through my relentless questioning that I might join up with them and he would lose me as a friend at the fire station. But eventually I did get the picture what the "Labor Service" was.
It was a job like any other, with the exception that one had to go through four weeks of "basic training" at Andrews Barracks where one would even have a bed and locker assigned and could live and eat there also. Most people went home after working hours as a guard, but some actually lived at the barracks. During basic training one learned to shoot M1 carbines (later M14's), march in formation, military salutes and all the stuff that goes with a semi-military organization. One was also taught "crowd control" with bayonets attached to the carbines and issued gas masks. Since I was hell-bent on emigrating to the United States and I could sense that working at the fire department wouldn't ever get me there, this "Labor Service" sounded promising to me. Something within me, my sixth sense, perhaps, told me that the "Labor Service" would somehow open doors for my eventual emigration to the United States. Which is exactly what was going to happen eventually.....

Without telling Shorty of my plans, I decided to check-out this Labor Service for myself. Knowing Andrews Barracks quite well from my work at the laundry there, I went to the main gate on the Finkelstein Allee and asked the Labor Service guard there how I could get to the Labor Service employment office. He wrote me a pass and gave me directions and I walked to a wooden barracks located right next to an office which said CID over it's door. The next door said something like "4078 Labor Service Company". Stepping in through the door, I found myself in a complete military environment. It could have been a US Army office, except that the desk-sergeant and all others there wore dark grey uniforms which included "Eisenhower jackets".... Or it could have been a typical "Schreibstube" in the former German Wehrmacht. Upon telling the sergeant what I wanted, he handed me a form to fill out and pointed to a chair and desk. After filling out the form and some time had elapsed, I was shown into another office where a Captain Spolert greeted me and asked me to sit down. He interviewed me for some ten minutes and I was "hired". When could I start? He asked me. Well, things were moving so fast that I never even thought the whole thing out beforehand. He knew that I worked for the US Air-force as a fire-fighter and thus told me that it would be best if I gave the fire-station one month notice. I agreed and we thus had a date for my start as a "sentinel" for the Labor Service.....
Walking out of the office and making my way back to the main entrance, I couldn't quite believe that I had signed up. What had I done? All my good comrades at the fire-department, especially Herr Gaertner and Shorty, what would they think? What, in God's name, had prompted me to act so quickly and almost irrationally? Now, in retrospect, I'm sure that it was the hand of destiny...fate, if you will.

I felt like a traitor walking down Finkelstein Allee to the bus stop. And I felt even worse when I told Herrn Gaertner what I had done, the next day. Herr Gaertner seemed sad when he heard from me that I had signed up for the Labor Service and told me that he thought I had made a big mistake. When I explained to him my reasoning for this unexpected move, he somewhat understood but didn't see much more of a chance for me to get to the United States working for the Labor Service then for the fire-department. Of course, objectively he was more than correct in his reasoning, but I assured him that I somehow knew that this was my chance and that I had to take it. Telling him how truly sad I felt having to leave such a great crew and especially him, he reassured me that I had to follow my destiny and that we would always remain friends. He also promised to set the paper work in motion and, upon my insistence, also promised that he would not tell the others about my leaving until the last day.
When I told Shorty about my signing up with the Labor Service, he was outraged. Berating me for "the biggest mistake of my life," he took my leaving very personal. I had wished that he would understand and give me his best wishes despite his apprehension, but this wasn't to be. He just couldn't forgive me and from that point on treated me like a leper.... But, he too, upon my begging him, didn't tell the others about my resignation.

Go To Page XX - Working for the US Army's Labor Service

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