dedalus Posted February 19, 2013 Share Posted February 19, 2013 In 1938 me Dad went to Germany doing a Master’s degree in Cologne, and this was considered a very good thing for a young fella up from the country with no thought of the nationalist regime. The instruction was rigorous and excellent which was the whole point of the transfer since economics was concerned with numbers and it was not concerned with local politics and the swastika flags on every street. Me Dad got on well in the college, played a wee bit of football with the German lads, and roomed with an Irish fellow called Tim. Tim was a soft-hearted soul from Connemara and he was big and broad in all directions. One night, as it happened, they went forth to dine in a basement place not far from the college. It was plain hearty food, fit for a student’s pocket, and with good strong beer to wash it down! The two lads sat down for a pleasant evening. There was a quiet old couple at another table and no more than three or four other diners when the door burst open with an almighty crash and two men marched in with leather overcoats and demanded a supply of identification. Dad and Tim were annoyed but complied, since these Gestapo thugs were all over the place. They were left in peace and the men moved on until they came to the old couple in the corner and suddenly voices were raised: Jude? Jude! Other customers kept their eyes on their plates, for this is the way things were by then, and you did not want to get involved. Dad and Tim looked up. The man was smashing their plates on the floor, taking their food and throwing it on the floor! Holy God, says Tim. Now, now, says me Dad. We can’t be having this, says Tim, standing up, and so the two of them carefully walk over. Hau ‘ab, says one of the guys: fuck off! You’ll pick up that fuckin plate, says Tim. The guy reached for his pocket, Tim lazily tapped him and he fell down in a heap. Another tap, and his companion joined him on the floor, the pair of them stretched out cold. We’re very sorry, says Tim, to the frightened elderly couple, but this sort of thing is not allowed. --------------------------------------------------------------- This is a true story, To compound things, Tim dragged Dad along to the local Gestapo HQ the next morning to lodge a complaint. They stared at him goggle-eyed as he insisted they fill out the requisite forms. Me Dad was sweating bricks, thinking for sure their student days were over, and would they be nice to Irish students in a concentration camp? What happened, so? Not a thing. Nowt. He and Tim hung on until Summer, 1939 ... Next: Daddy goes to the Nuremberg Rally. Quote Drown your sorrows in drink, by all means, but the real sorrows can swim Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
badger11 Posted February 20, 2013 Share Posted February 20, 2013 A tale narrated in an uncluttered way, though some more colouring could up the tension. badge Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dr_con Posted February 20, 2013 Share Posted February 20, 2013 A wonderful tale well told. Thoroughly enjoyed the rough tumble. Lovely. DC&J Quote thegateless.org Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Benjamin Posted February 21, 2013 Share Posted February 21, 2013 Lovely story. Coupled with your footnote it reminds me of the Leslie Howard film "Pimpernel Smith." Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
jainrohit Posted February 22, 2013 Share Posted February 22, 2013 This surely has a old world charm. The narrative is crisp and to the point. Great..... Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dansalinger Posted February 23, 2013 Share Posted February 23, 2013 kept my attention, good flow, powerful, alarming then uplifting, well written..great story.. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
tonyv Posted February 24, 2013 Share Posted February 24, 2013 What brave guys for standing up to the statists and in a physical confrontation, too! Tony Quote Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
David W. Parsley Posted March 24, 2013 Share Posted March 24, 2013 Heaven help me, I am not a man given to undue violence (unless you count a love for playing and watching American football), but I got a vicarious thrill of satisfaction from this excellent narrative. A salute to your Dad and to his fine pal, Tim. The world is better for their kind. My own Dad was in that mold, but never got a chance to lay one on a pair from the Gestapo. (Come to think of it, I really like that Romeo and Juliet piece of yours, too... Maybe there is a bully buster deep down inside me, after all.) Thanks Brendan! - Dave Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dedalus Posted March 25, 2013 Author Share Posted March 25, 2013 What Romeo and Juliet piece, Dave? Oh, yesss ... I do recall ... I did write something on that. God Bless your memory! Tim, poor soul, was killed in the war with Montgomery's 8th Army in North Africa and me Dad, who had joined the Irish Army, spent two years commanding a coastal artillery battery with orders to blast the hell out of whoever came first, the Nazis or the Brits. In the event nobody came at all and his main battles were with the local parish priest over the romantic propensities of his men. Tragedy bordering on farce, as with everything else in Ireland. The Germans DID have a plan to invade Ireland (Operation Green) once Britain was conquered which helps to explain why Tim and many other Irish lads joined the British forces. Officially we were "neutral" but after Norway, Denmark, Belgium and Holland nobody placed much trust in Mister Hitler. Quote Drown your sorrows in drink, by all means, but the real sorrows can swim Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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