My dad always told the best stories. For as long as I can remember, something would happened during our day that would remind him of a time in his childhood and he would tell a random story of his exploits as a boy. He would laugh as he was telling the story, his mind transported to that time in his life, and we would laugh along with him. He was a good story teller.
These stories made an impression on me. I turned into a history lover with a special interest in life and times during WW2. The events that took place in the lives of the smallest individual fascinated me; their struggles, their fight for survival, their escapes and their sacrifice. My dad grew up during this war and his stories connected me to this time of history.
I remember one evening watching a documentary about WW2; the Battle of Berlin. I was watching the bombing, the destruction, the devastation that was wreaked by the Soviets on the last strong hold of Nazi Germany. I was also remembering some of Dad’s stories while watching the show when it suddenly dawned on me. Dad was there, he was in and around Berlin during this battle, he witnessed this part of history through the eyes of a boy!
I began being far more interested in how dad arrived in Berlin. I saw photos and asked questions and pieced together a part of the war that is virtually unwritten in any official record I have read. An uncommon journey for the time with unexpected heroes.
This blog is to record my dad’s stories. I do not profess to be a writer but I will do my best to pass on these vignettes in as much of an entertaining way as I can produce. I dedicate these writings to my paternal grandmother and especially to my father so I will not forget these events that made my dad the great man he is.