Excerpt from Chapter
4:
In 1936 I began my
apprenticeship which involved a fair bit of
travelling both by train and on foot. One could
say my job really started at 5.30 a.m. when I
got ready to catch the 6 o'clock train to
Augsburg. Waking was never any problem since our
house was on a bend in the line and the lights
of oncoming trains shone straight into my
bedroom before veering sharply and thundering by
so I could tell exactly what time it was just by
knowing the timetables. I was never late and
always had breakfast at leisure. Another 'trick'
was to listen to the static in the radio which
would be faint at first but gradually increased
as the train drew nearer our station. All I had
to do then was get out the door, jump over 4
rail lines and board it. Crossing those lines on
a dark, frosty, foggy winter's morning was a job
for an expert; one always had to keep in mind
the fate of numerous cats of ours who
unsuccessfully did the same. The train arrived
in Augsburg- Oberhausen at 6.45 and our workshop
started at 7.30 and since I was the youngest
apprentice I was responsible for getting the
place functioning, especially the stove lit. It
was a good half hour's walk to the workshop so
some quick footwork was involved running all the
way. One could say I was 'well run in' for the
day's chores by the time I arrived. Finishing
time was 5 p.m. and after cleaning the shop I
repeated the morning exercise to catch the 6
o'clock train home. Often I didn't make it and
had to wait around for the 6.45 p.m. Either way
it was certainly a long day.
The Weckerle workshop
employed 7 cabinet makers, 3 apprentices and 3
French polishers. Cabinet making in those days
was still a skilful craft - no pre-veneered
chipboard to be cut and stapled together. We
made our own plywoods, did all the veneering by
means of hydraulic presses, heated zinc plates,
good reliable hide glue and plenty of muscle
power. The end result was high class furniture.
The machine section of the workshop was equipped
with the latest woodworking machines, however,
we first or second year apprentices were not
permitted to use them. Everything we did, we had
to do entirely with hand tools.
Apart from attending
technical college in Augsburg I sat twice a year
for independent trades tests as required by the
apprenticeship board, not only to test our
knowledge but also to test the master's teaching
ability. The outcome of these tests could very
well determine the master keeping or losing the
privilege to teach apprentices. Alois Weckerle,
my master, made absolutely sure that his
reputation did not suffer in this respect. He
was a good master and certainly wasn't afraid to
give we young fellows a box behind the ears if
he thought it was necessary. By the end of 1937
I was one of six apprentices with the best
results which subsequently won me a trip to
Berlin for two weeks to visit the Trades
Exhibition. I don't know how popular that was
with my master; Alois had to cough up half my
expenses with the board paying the
balance....tangible.
On 12 March 1938 came
the Anschluss of Austria with the German Reich
when Dr Seiss Inquart replaced Kurt von
Schuschnigg as Chancellor. The Sudetenland under
Konrad Henlein demanded to be part of Germany
also, resulting in lengthy negotiations between
Hitler, Benes of Czechoslovakia, Neville
Chamberlain of Britain and Daladier of France,
climaxing in the historic meeting at Munich on
29 September and the Sudetenland annexation on 1
October. Bohemia and Moravia followed in March
1939 and the occupation of the whole of
Czechoslovakia by 15 March.
On 1 September
Germany invaded Poland and this resulted in
Britain and France declaring war on Germany on
the third. That day I went to work as usual but
was an hour late getting into Augsburg, caused
mainly by troop movements from the Augsburg
Artillery Garrison en route to the Polish border
and by the time I reached Weckerle's the sky was
full of aircraft flying in an easterly
direction. I remember that morning Alois
Weckerle had his brand new car, an 'Opel-Kadet'
requisitioned; it had only been delivered the
previous week and he wasn't too happy about
that. The best thing that came out of the day's
events for me was that we got the rest of the
day off. I tried to catch an early train but
military transports had priority and I reached
home an hour later than usual. Brother Willi was
by then serving his term in the 'Arbeitsdienst'
somewhere in the Saarland working on the 'West
Wall' (Siegfried Line) fortifications. (Arbeitsdienst
was a compulsory call-up for all males around
the age of 18 years for a period of 6 months
prior to the general call-up into the German
Armed Forces).
The Polish campaign
took about 4 weeks, ending on 27 September and
our working routine continued as normal. Apart
from making first-class furniture we had other
important contracts, for instance, fitting out
the newly built Augsburg Rathaus (town hall) and
also most of the inside work of the new opera
house, with its revolving stage and impressive 4
metre wide winding staircase all the way up to
the top gallery. Hitler took a particular
interest in this project and called in quite
frequently to inspect the progress. One day I
was busy sanding the steps half way up the
staircase using plenty of muscle - no machines -
when he and his retinue walked up and shook my
hand and told me what wonderful work I was
doing. I could have told him it was more like
hard labour fine-sanding each step by hand with
sandpaper and steel wool, but then one didn't
argue with the 'Reichschancellor'...
My father was again
posted, this time to Krumbach and that,
unfortunately, also ended my working period in
Augsburg. To finish my apprenticeship I got a
transfer to Krumbach to a workshop owned by Karl
Kaiser. My new master was 74 years old and held
an honorary teaching position at the Krumbach
Technical College.
It was May 1940 I was
now in my last year and preparing for my final
exams. I worked on a bedroom suite consisting of
2 wardrobes, double bed, tallboy, one dressing
table, 2 bedside tables, 2 chairs and
complementary light fittings. It was an order
for a local butcher and was my trades test to be
judged by the Apprenticeship Board. Everything
was done by me with no help from the master
other than in a supervisory role and when
finally completed it was assembled and displayed
in the workshop for the examiners' scrutiny.
They had a good look at everything, which must
have met with their approval as by the end of
the week after passing the final college
examinations I was handed my trade certificates
and was formally accepted into the Guild of
Cabinetmakers as a fully qualified member and up
went my pay from 2.40 marks to 7 marks a week.
The French campaign
was underway and I remember one morning towards
the end of June Karl Kaiser was found lying in
his front garden suffering a massive stroke and
he died the following day. His last ambition had
been to see the end of the war with France as he
could remember Bismarck's 1870 war when he was
only 6 years old. Well, he died a week before
the surrender on 27 June 1940.
In July I was 18 and
expected to be called for 'Musterung' any day.
Musterung meant being called before a military
selection panel for a medical examination and a
decision made according to one's skills but
mostly to the needs of what particular part of
the Services you were required by. One had no
say in the matter; their decision was final.
Military service was compulsory and once you
were called up you became state property.
In September my
call-up came in the shape of a registered card
telling me to appear before the selection panel
in the town hall. My friend Anderl from next
door got his card too so we trotted off together
to the Rathaus. The Musterung was held in the
courtroom with representatives of all Services
seated around the room in a 'U' shaped fashion
so they could all have a good look at you from
every angle. After passing the medical
examination we 'faced' up, one at a time, naked
to the recruiting panel for their assessment as
to what branch of the Services we were best able
to serve. In my case it was relatively easy as
working with wood apparently was quite a special
skill in their minds. So they decided I could
best serve the Fatherland in a Pioneer (Sapper)
regiment. "Dismissed: you will be called when we
need you". For the rest of the day all we new
'recruits' celebrated by taking a trip through
the local inns. It was midnight before I got
home, with some difficulty, as I had spent most
of my previous week's wages. Going to work the
next morning was no great delight either.
Krumbach was a Jewish
town and a teaching centre for Rabbis, with two
Synagogues in town. The Jews continued about
their business though with some restrictions,
such as having to wear the Star of David on
their clothes. A whole family of them lived two
doors down from us and we got on well with them,
despite the fact that the ground floor of our
house was the residence of the local Kreisleiter
of the NSDAP (district leader of the Party). We
lived above him on the first floor and he always
made it clear to everybody that Party policy
didn't allow us to be friendly with Jews, but
his directions were not very well heeded, not in
Krumbach anyhow, although one had to be careful
as Dachau wasn't too far away. Because of the
presence of the Kreisleiter they didn't come to
our flat but Mum visited them quite often on her
way to do the shopping.
Dachau was then a
corrective institution, the district gaol, but
if you disregarded the direction of the NSDAP
and the Kreisleiter, you could very well end up
there for a couple of weeks or months doing an
indoctrination spell.
Life in Krumbach was
fairly normal again after the French campaign.
Karl Kaiser's son, who was serving as a medical
orderly in the Army during that time, was
discharged and returned to take over the running
of the firm, temporarily run by his mother after
his father's death and I continued working there
until my call-up papers for the Arbeitsdienst (Labour
Service) arrived in November 1940.
My brother, now in
his first year of military service, came home on
leave and he gave me some useful hints on how to
make the most out of Service life. Incidentally,
that was the last time I ever saw him. He was
killed two days after the war finished, having
surrendered to the Czeckoslovakian partisans at
Podibrady near Prague. He and his mates were
shot by them somewhere in a ditch and have no
proper grave. But that was the end of the war
and partisans got hero status. Their crimes were
no crimes, just 'heroic deeds' in the struggle
against the Germans.