Free The City in Flames by Elisabeth von Berrinberg

along the fence. There was a space between the ground and the lower edge of the mesh wire. Flora dug it out one day when she spotted a rabbit in the field. No one dared to speak. Not even a whisper. Carefully, not making any noise, we crawled through the tight opening. The field on the other side of the fence had not been cultivated. Most of the land lay fallow. The farmers feared the enemy planes and guns and abandoned their ploughs. Straw stubble still stuck in the ground, and strewn among it were whole stems, still bearing wheat kernels from the previous harvest. Swiftly we gathered a bundle and retreated to our cabin.
    “You’ve got to chew them real good,” my father explained. In the dark of the cabin we cowered around the pile of straw, searching for the kernels. The field mice must have gotten to them before us, for nearly half the straw held only empty husks.
    “I could make some salad,” my mother suggested.
    “With what?” my father asked.
    “From dandelions,” said my mother.
    “We can wait until morning,” my father decided. It was not wise to let anybody know that the cabin was inhabited. Our presence could easily be mistaken for that of German soldiers. If there were any Allied scouts in the area, they might throw a hand grenade and blow us all up.
    Our worries and precautions were uncalled for, because the scouts didn’t arrive until the following morning. I was the first to be awakened by a strange noise. It came from the highway in the valley below us like an endless thunder: the sound of hundreds of tanks rolling toward the city. Würzburg was liberated!
    Soon daylight came, and only moments later we had our first face-to-face encounter with our enemy. Across the valley, a hill caught our attention. We saw people coming out of the woods, heading for the clearing on the edge of the hill. No roads or trails crossed this particular part of the landscape, so we found it strange to see people around. Were they citizens from the village beyond the forest, running from the Allies? But they would have passed through their community by now.
    The guessing came to an end when we noticed an American jeep slowly proceeding down our road. Soon another jeep followed; both carried mounted machine guns. Then came a tank with its guns fixed on our cabin.
    “Take cover!” my father shouted excitedly. Instinctively we reached for our helmets. With our hearts pounding at twice their normal speed, we waited. And waited. We knew they would come soon. Our eyes were fixed on the window. Many thoughts raced through my mind. What if they are hostile? Maybe they will kill us? Or rape us? Maybe take us prisoner?
    Minutes seemed like hours. Then, there they were! None of us had seen them coming. We heard voices outside. Voices speaking in English.
    “Hello! Anybody home?” Fear-stricken, my father opened the door. His knees were shaking, and he could hardly stand.
    “Raise your hands,” my mother whispered from behind. Slowly he stepped outside. A soldier motioned for him to open the door entirely. Now they could see us, and we could see them. Three soldiers aimed their bayonet rifles at us.
    Moments of silence passed. Then one of them, presumably the one in charge, stepped forward to ask, “Do you speak English?” In unison we shook our heads. So then he spoke in German, asking us whether we had any weapons. No, we didn’t – at least, not any more. There was a .45 around for a while, but my father thought it wiser to put it out of sight. So he buried it under the elderberry tree.
    “Are there any German soldiers hidden here?” the soldier asked.
    “Nein,” my father replied.
    Then, with a smile on his face, the American asked, “Do you have any whiskey?”
    At this point, we didn’t even have any water, so my father burst into laughter. We all joined in, including the three Americans. The tension passed. With friendly but firm words, the soldier advised us to raise a flag of surrender and at all times wear a