| SWITZERLAND
The first weekend in July five of us took the train from Stuttgart to Zurich and later went on to Luzern in the German speaking region of Switzerland. It was my first departure from Germany since my arrival. The trip was notable for the scenery—no war damage once we got to Switzerland—and the fact that once I crossed the border into Switzerland I could wear civilian clothes for the first time in six months.
American soldiers could cross the Swiss-German frontier using either a passport or by showing a copy of appropriate orders. Subsequently I obtained a passport from the American Consulate in Stuttgart, but for this trip I intended to use a copy of my leave orders to cross the border.
I had my ukulele in Europe and sometimes played it and sang college drinking songs, ballads and hillbilly music. To facilitate the singing I had typed the words of some of my favorite songs in the form of a song sheet, copies of which I usually carried in my ukulele case. The songs on the sheet included such classics as Abdul Abulbul Ameer, Don’t Make Me Go to Bed and I’ll Be Good, On Top of Old Smoky, etc. On this occasion five of us had taken over a six-passenger, second class, train compartment. I had distributed the song sheets and we were singing some time-honored country melodies when we arrived at the Swiss frontier.
The train stopped and in a few minutes the door to our compartment was flung open by a Swiss border guard who officiously proclaimed, "Passports," then observing that we were all in uniform, he supplemented his announcement: "or orders."
Lieutenant Addis was closest to the compartment door. Without a moments hesitation Addis handed the border patrolman his copy of the song sheet from which, just a few minutes earlier, he had been singing the tenor part to Big Rock Candy Mountain. ...
CHRISTMAS AWAY FROM HOME
Bill Bullard, a JAG schoolmate from Houston, Texas, later a partner in the Baker – Botts law firm there, was assigned to the office of the staff judge advocate, 28th Infantry Division, Göppingen, about twenty-five miles east of Stuttgart, towards Munich. We decided a good plan for the Christmas holidays would be for each of us to get a three-day pass, meet in Munich on December 23rd and go to Salzburg, Austria, only about seventy miles away. I knew some VII Corps cases would be tried in Munich in late December, so I arranged to get myself put on the Munich trial team. That assignment put me in Munich at the time my pass was effective, just in time to meet Bill for Christmas in Austria.
After we finished our cases in the early afternoon of December 23rd, I went with the others on the trial team to the Munich railroad station and put them on the train to Stuttgart. Then I hastened back to the Excelsior Military Hotel to meet Bill.
He wasn’t there. However, the desk clerk advised that I had a telegram. It was from Bill informing me that he had been assigned duty as officer of the day and his pass had been canceled.
Should I go back to Stuttgart? I pondered. The next train from Munich would get me into Stuttgart at a very late hour. Besides, I wasn’t expected back. I had no Christmas plans in Stuttgart – in fact, I had turned down some invitations. Maybe I should go on to Salzburg by myself, or just stay in Munich. I didn’t know anyone in either place, but at least I had a hotel room in Munich and although I been to Munich several times, I hadn’t really seen the sights or enjoyed much recreational time there.
Munich it is, I decided. It turned out to be an astoundingly lucky choice.
After freshening up I walked across the street from the hotel over to Karlsplatz, then along Neuhauserstrasse to Marien Platz, looking into the shop windows filled with Christmas bounty. Green Loden suits for both men and women were featured in many of the apparel shops. Some were displayed on heavy-set, rather obese, mannequins such as I had not seen before. The Christmas decorations were like those at home except all the lights were of clear glass and Santa’s fur trimmed coat extended all the way down to his shoe tops. Lots of sports equipment, mountain climbing gear and cold weather outerwear was on display as well as toys, weapons, radios and audio equipment. Munich was obviously a good place to shop.
I headed to the Hofbräuhaus, Platzl, because I had been there before, it was nearby and I knew the food was good. A brass band played in the beer hall below – where Hitler used to hold forth – but I wanted something a little nicer so I went to the restaurant upstairs. Following a good supper, Kalbshaxe and a salad plate, which cost me DM 6, I stepped outside onto the Platzl and noticed a small, intimate bar down the street to my right, inviting me for a nightcap. It was a cheerful refuge on a cold night, abundantly decorated in the spirit of the Yuletide season. There weren’t many customers inside but an elderly piano player recognized me as an American, played "Jingle Bells" and gestured for me to join him by the piano. Then he played some familiar English language carols, inviting me to sing along. He joined in, also singing in English. I thought we sounded pretty good. I ordered a couple of cognacs and we toasted "a Merry Christmas." When he took a break, we began to talk.
Apparently his assessment of me was favorable, because after a while, he told me that his wife had instructed him to be on the lookout for a lonely soldier and, if he found one he thought was nice, invite him home for the celebration of Christmas Eve, the principal Christmas holiday in Germany. He then extended an invitation for me to join his family for Christmas Eve at his home and I accepted. The address he gave was across Plinganserstrasse from Sendlinger Church, not far from Sendlinger Tor, a busy intersection and one of the original gates into old Munich. It was an easy taxi ride from my hotel. As we parted he mentioned slyly, that when I arrived at his home the next evening his daughter would be there. ...
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