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.

 

 

 

 

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