大象传媒

After the liberation people started to try to get back to normal.My mattress was still in the "cellar" of the hospital.Probably no place in the former nurses'quarters since we were billeted in town.That house was about destroyed.I found a book about "Art "on the foot of my bed appr. 3 inches thick.I was lucky I did not sleep in that bed that night: an artillery shell went through the roof, part of it pierced the book completely and ended in my mattress.( I still have the book).
I was on my own since I got the news via the underground that my family was in all probability dead.The bomb on their door step never exploded but they must not have known it.An R.N. about 8 years older than I invited me to her parents'house.That house was badly bombed too.It was about 3/4 hour from the hospital and walking through snow and ice was no fun.On my days off I was invited to their house: any time I wanted to come. I shared their food , their warmth ,their companionship.
Often we were off the same day .We walked through slush and ice to her home, looking forward to a warm and cozy evening. Before going in we took doorjambs, window sills and...Linoleum out of the damaged rooms downstairs.One room upstairs was wonderfully cozy and warm.A potbelly stove was in the center."it"took" everything we fed it.We loved linoleum. It burned very hot but" Potbelly" took it. Blankets covered the windows to keep the heat in. A "lock" was made- like caf茅,'s had.-2 doors with blankets nailed on It were nailed to stuts to form the "lock.It made all the difference keeping the cold out After all doors and windows were broken,snow often blew inside the rooms downstairs . The potbelly stove was red hot and a whisteling teakettle made our Ersatz coffee,or heated the so called Soup we got from the community kitchen whenever it was availiable.
The so called bread was inedible,But we made "toast' by sticking it on the stove It tasted better than the yukky, sticky stuff:called bread.But when we got white bread from the Allied........That was BLISS.
We played Monopoly,cards ,talked or listened to music. I had a" connection": a friend of my father was picked up by the Gestapo as" insurance"( i.e. as a hostage) against Germans killed by the underground .He was allowed out of the camp for getting medicines people in the camp needed. He was a pharmacist.He always contacted me and took me to dinner in a restaurant where he ordered delicious food with "black" ration cards.
Any time a German ws killed, he had a chance to be executed.He received packages from the Am. Red cross.We sometimes got TEA!! and the little sugar squares by "Domino" and other goodies.I was glad I could contribute something as a "Thank You" for my friend's hospitality .But there came an end to these wonderfull times. That is another story.N.B. The hostage made it safely out of the c. camp.

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