Editor’s note: This is another column in Bill Boyd’s new series, “The Way It Was,” about growing up in Marysville. Bill continues to work with the Union County Historical Society to obtain information for his stories. With Marysville and Union County celebrating Bicentennial anniversaries in 2019 and 2020, respectively, these articles help depict what life was like in those early years.
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In 1983, I met a man named Gary Warner. He was a manufacturer’s rep, and since I was writing advertising copy for some of the products he sold, we worked together for some time.
When we ate lunch together, we sometimes shared stories about our childhood, and we found we had quite a bit in common.
For example, both of our fathers served in France during World War I. They weren’t in the same unit or anything like that. In fact, they weren’t even in the same army. Gary’s dad was a German soldier, while my dad was an American GI.
Gary’s dad died when Gary was quite young, so he was raised by his mother in a small town not far from Ulm, the German city where Albert Einstein was born.
About the time I went into the Boy Scouts, Gary went into the Hitler Jugend, (Hitler Youth). Gary’s mother wasn’t pleased about that, but all the kids in his school were doing it.
Many of the things Gary did in the Hitler Youth were similar to what I was doing in the Boy Scouts … things like hiking and camping.
A lot of the time during Gary’s meetings, however, was spent on military drills. Then there was time spent indoctrinating the youngsters about Fascism. It was done by members of the Nazi Party.
After the invasion of Normandy and the Allied armies were moving towards Germany, Gary was issued a pistol and ammunition. He was told to use it to protect his town if the American soldiers moved into the area. He was also told that if the Americans found out he had the gun, he would be imprisoned for many years.
In the spring of 1945, not long after Germany surrendered, Allied occupation forces moved into the area where Gary lived. Then one day he received word from their headquarters that they had found records indicating he had been issued the pistol. He was ordered to bring it in and surrender it. He followed the orders, and he prepared himself to be locked up for many years.
When Gary turned over the pistol to the American officer, he expected to be arrested on the spot and thrown into prison. Instead, the officer told him to go home and turn himself in to his mother, and to accept whatever punishment she dished out. He couldn’t believe it.
On top of that, those soldiers gave Gary several chocolate bars. He loved chocolate, but he hadn’t tasted it in a couple years. He said that it was at this point that everything changed in his life.
A few months later, Gary got a job working at the American headquarters just outside his small town. He swept the floors, emptied wastebaskets and did all kinds of work like that. In the process, he became friends with lots of the soldiers, and they helped him with his English.
They must have been good teachers, for when I knew Gary, he spoke English perfectly, without the slightest trace of an accent.
Over the years, I lost track of him. The last I heard from him, he was living in Switzerland. I like to look back on that brief point in time when we were friends. It is a good feeling to realize that, although our fathers were bitter enemies, the two of us became good friends. I really liked that guy.
Those wishing to contact Bill Boyd can e-mail him at bill@davidwboyd.com