Surreal Georgia

Black And White (Photo Challenge)

Part 1:

 

 

I think, this is a quite normal interpretation of today's topic: Some branches and the sky behind them. Because of the contrast between dark wood in the foreground and the bright sky the picture hasn't got any colors, seems as if it were a black and white photography. The blurry part is a little snowflake that fell on the camera lens.

But I were not Georgia if I wouldn't go crazy sometimes:

 

 

Part 2:

When going through my photo archives I found a lot of old pics I never published before and It would have been a pity not to show them, because you always see my "new old house" in the background.

The house before WW II; my grandparents still were farming. You see the barn door and above it the granary window. There were stables in the annex on the left side.

In front of the house in the late 1930ies. It was my great grandfather's 70th birthday.

1: grandfather Fritz, 2: my father Georg, 3: father's elder brother Fritz, 4: grandma Anna and her mother Karoline (left of her), 5: great grandfather Fritz

The little boy with the white apron is my uncle Karl and behind him the girl is his sister Luise. They are the only ones on the pic who are still alive.

 

This must have been shortly before May 1943, when my father's brother died. He (left side) and my father (right side) are sitting at the back seat of the horse carriage. On the stairs there are standing my grandfather (closest to the carriage) and my great grandfather (near the sign at the door). The man in a suit must be my grandmother's youngest brother Georg. The woman must be his wife Karoline. My granny was probably in the kitchen, preparing dinner.

 

 Village feast at the same time: They played a lot of music and went around in the village. In the evening there was dance.

 

The house in 1959 with the new Veranda in front of it. My father colored the pic with some crayons.

 

Great grandfather inside the house. We still have the sofa, the cupboard and most of the pictures.

 

 

 It is currently in the cellar of my other house and waiting to move back to where it belongs. This pic was taken one year ago.

 

Part 3:

No photo, but it is black and white and it says: Have a wonderful week!

If you want to make your own, you can get it here:
http://goqr.me/[Insert%20text%20here]

 

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 Photo Challenge!

http://margareetaville.blogspot.com/

http://bustershouse.wordpress.com/

http://jayahrsblog.blogspot.com/

Thank you, Marco

A few weeks ago I accidentally found a picture about the war cemetery Werchne-Bakanskaja, where my father’s brother was buried in 1943. I found it by googling after „Werchne-Bakanskaja“.

This cemetery is in Russia near the Caucasian Mountains and near the famous town Noworossijsk at the Black Sea. I already reported about this. Here is the link. Please read the story to undestand what I'm talking about.

The picture I found was an old photo which the German grave officers used to make for sending them to the relatives of the dead soldiers. My grandparents also got such picture. I immediately saw that this photo was taken at Werchne-Bakanskaja. Marco, a very nice writer and historian from Italy, who collects pictures from WW II, especially pictures from Italia, bought it at Ebay, because there was remarked on it’s backside: „Italy 1944“. By the way, we are nearly the same age. - I mailed him if he would sell me the photo and what shall I say.... he gave it to me for free and he sent me a very, very nice letter. So now the picture is here. It is always amazing how people deal with the war and the woe it brought over so much people. There is always very big cooperativeness and understanding of the humane dimensions of searching for dead relatives. I never experienced hate or refusal or even indifference. Since we are able to communicate quick and easy via internet it seems that there is more friendship and understanding between many people from different countries. Well, I know that there is also another side like cyberbullying, but this is not my topic today. It makes me happy knowing a lot of people in different countries and discovering that we are all so similar, more than we used to believe.

But back to the picture: I’m collecting everything about the war cemetery of Werchne-Bakanskaja (Werchne Bakanskij) to reconstruct all gravesites and to help other relatives who are still searching. I decided to publish this picture, because there might be still somebody who is searching for his relative.

Erich Solle from Olbersleben, war cemetery Werchne-Bakanskaja

The picture shows the grave of Erich Solle, who was born on October 7, 1923, at Olbersleben, which is in Thuringia. He was rifleman, but I don’t know which regiment or division. He died on June 12, 1943, age 19, at the military hospital at Werchne-Bakanskaja, which is exactly one month later than my uncle died there. So he might perhaps be from the same division and of course he belonged to the 17th army. His grave must be quite near to the grave of my uncle at the lower part of the cemetery, below the church. The picture was usually taken immediately or only a few days after the burial.

Today there are still 4 persons with the name „Solle“ in Olbersleben, which might be his siblings or nephews. Perhaps they find my blog.... Or perhaps I will write them a letter....I don’t know if they are still interested in these old stories. I suppose that the picture was sold after Erich Solle’s mother died and came to Ebay this way through the hands of probably a lot of collectors, because if Erich Solle was born in 1923, his mother probably died in the late 70ies or early 80ies, which is at least 30 years ago. Perhaps the family sends me an email if they are interested...

Coat of arms of Olbersleben

Olbersleben is a very small village (about 800 inhabitants), not much bigger than Wethen in Waldeck, where my family is from. Erich Solle was already dead for 2 years when the war was over in his homevillage. On April 11, 1945, American troops conquered Olbersleben. Mayor Fritz Brendel surrendered without any fight at 2:30 PM. Nothing was destroyed, only an old barn burnt down. The same day all inhabitants had to stay in their houses in the evening and the night. Nobody was allowed to go outside. On April 21 all inhabitants had to deliver weapons and the houses were searched after remaining weapons. So far the incidents in Olbersleben weren't much different from what hapened in Wethen. 110 American soldiers were stationed in the village until the end of June. Then Olbersleben's history went into another, completely different direction for the following 40 years: Unfortunately on July 1, the Soviet Army overtook the administration. Their headquarters were in Weimar. From now on Olbersleben belonged to the Soviet Zone which later formed the GDR.

Links about Olbersleben:

• http://www.olbersleben.de/buerger/center_gemeinden_der_br_verwaltungsgemeinschaft/gemeinde_olbersleben/geschichte_von_olbersleben/index.html
• http://www.olbersleben.de/index.html
• http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Olbersleben
• http://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Olbersleben

Thank you Marco, thank you so much!!!!! Marco's website is: www.marcomarzilli.it You will hear from me the next days when there is a little time, Marco! Greetings!

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Pictures:

• "Erich Solle" belongs to Georgia, all rights reserved
• Coat of arms of Olbersleben is public domain

Thoughts on Occasion of a Birthday

Only one day with sunshine and the world looks much, much better! Today we have the first really nice spring day this year. But this is not the topic of my post.

Pope Benedikt XVI was in America. I think you all have heard about his visit in the news. But I also think that you haven’t heard about his audience with President Reinhard Fuehrer of the German „Volksbund Deutsche Kriegsgraeberfuersorge” ( German War Graves Commission) on February 20, 2008. The Volksbund is an organization which searches for all soldiers of all nations who died during WW I and WW II. So relatives are lucky about their work, because sometimes they never knew what happened to their beloved fathers or sons or brothers or they don’t know where they are buried. But the Volksbund does not only research but tries to bury all soldiers of all nations on cemeteries, which shall remind all people to the cruelty of war. Young people can care for the cemeteries during their holidays. This is the way how they learn something about the past and about the horror of war and they can also make people from other countries their friends. So the Volksbund improves friendship between people of nations which formerly were enemies. This is an important work for peace all over the world. Pope Benedikt thanked the Volksbund for the good work for peace and understanding.

Left red dot: Wethen in Waldeck; right red dot: Werchne-Bakanskaja

Werchne-Bakanskaja

Why am I telling you this? Well, the Volksbund also helped me and my family. I have been searching for my father’s brother Fritz since about 25 years, which is exactly half of my life. First I had nearly no information, apart from a picture of his grave, the date of his death (May 15, 1943) and the name of a village he was buried, Werchne-Bakanskaja. But the longer I searched for Fritz the more information I found. I searched archives at Freiburg and Berlin, I wrote hundreds of letters, I talked to witnesses, who were at the same place in 1943 where my uncle died, I collected all kind of pictures I could get about this place, I found some people in Russia, who took pictures for me from the cemetery as it is today and I even wrote to the mayor of the small Russian town in the Caucasian Mountains. I also learned a bit Russian for this purpose. The Volksbund remarked me as a specialist for this cemetery in the Caucasian Mountains and whenever people asked the Volksbund for relatives buried on this cemetery they gave them my address, because I’m obviously the only person, I can proudly say, the only person in the world, who has collected as much information about this place. Also the Landtag (government) of Baden Wuerttemberg asked me for information. But most of all I’m proud that I could clear up what happened to a missing person in 1943. But this is not the only reason for telling you all this.

Fritz, * April 24, 1922; + May 15, 1943

Today it’s the 86th birthday of my father’s brother Fritz and until now none of our family managed to visit his grave since he was buried in the Caucasian Mountains. Until now this was simply not possible because of the political situation. But now the Volksbund is also working there. So there is hope.

Here is the story about my uncle’s life and death:

Fritz was born on April 24, 1922, in Wethen, a small, small village in Waldeck. He was the firstborn son of my grandparents; my father was their second son. All who knew Fritz described him as a boy who loved animals and loved all that has to do with farming and butchering (my grandfather ran a grocery, a little company in the building trade and a farm). He was a kind, outgoing and gladsome boy and later young man, who was very well-liked by everybody.

   

Fritz, about 16 years old; Fritz, his grandfather and his father in front of the house

Confirmation: Fritz is the second boy on the left side

He loved music

At the age of 14 he was confirmed, an important day in his life, because school was finished and he started an apprenticeship in his father’s company to become a mason. But these lucky times were over much too soon.

Construction-work (Fritz is on the right side); pig slaughtering

At the age of 18 he had to leave his family and the small village he has never left before for more than a few days. He had to serve the fatigue for nearly one year. During this time he came through Poland, where he saw the Ghetto of Warschau with his own eyes. Horrible pictures...we still have a few of the photos he took. Too horrible for such a young person he was. Later Fritz came to Russia, to Smolensk. There he learned to drive a truck. He was very proud being a truck driver. Although life was hard at that time all pictures show him smiling or singing. This was simply his personality.

Fatigue in Poland (on the right side with shovel)

Fatigue in Russia: Fritz and "his" truck

After only two short weeks at home Fritz had to serve the army. On December 29, 1941, (at least Christmas he could spend at home) he left his home again. First he came to Friedberg near Frankfurt (yes, the same barracks Elvis Presley was stationed after 1945) and then directly to Russia, this time to the southern part. Several times he became ill of infectious jaundice because of the horrible hygienic conditions in Southern Russia. In contrast with the Germans the Russians mostly didn’t bury their dead soldiers. So thousands of bodies decayed in the heat during spring and summer. Millions of flies hatched and caused awful epidemics of jaundice. At that time this disease wasn’t explored very well and first scientific investigations supposed coherence between the bodies, the flies and jaundice.

In the military hospital in Neisse; Fritz is the man directly under the red cross.

After his last jaundice infection Fritz came home for two weeks in February 1943. But he wasn’t the happy and singing Fritz any more like his parents knew him before. His heart was broken of all the woe and cruelties he had experienced. He told his mother that he didn’t believe that he would come back home from this murderous war. The last picture shows him in front of our house with a rabbit on his arm and wearing house shoes to his uniform.

His last holidays at home: In the fields; in front of our house with his rabbit.

It took four weeks until Fritz was back in the Caucasian Mountains, in Nishne Bakanskaja. 17 soldiers started their journey in Germany, only two survived the journey because of partisans. Fritz’s last letter is from May 12, 1943. He wrote that he didn’t want any parcels any more and that he supposed that his beloved grandmother Caroline Albracht Vesper might have died in the meantime. He was so right. She died on May 12, the day he wrote this letter.

Original military-map from 1943; red dot: Glubokij-Canyon

Fritz died three days later. During the operation Vogelsberg on May 114, 1943, he was injured severely by a grenade. His left leg was lacerated. This happened in the Glubokij-Canyon near Nishne-Bakanskaja. It took nearly one day to bring him to Werchne-Bakanskaja by train, where there was the next military hospital, although Werchne-Bakanskaja was only about 15 kilometers away.

Dr. Beltinger, the surgeon

There the doctors tried to save his life by amputating his leg. Dr. Beltinger made the surgery. But Fritz died of a shock, because he had lost too much blood in the meantime. Today he could be saved easily by blood transfusions. But at that time blood transfusions were totally new and they were made with hoses directly from man to man. The army reverends donated blood in very urgent cases. But you can imagine that they couldn’t donate much blood or very often. Also Fritz got a blood transfusion after his surgery, but he was too weak and died at 2 AM in the morning of May 15, 1943, in the formerly church of Werchne-Bakanskaja. He was buried there on the surrounding military cemetery. I talked to a witness who worked at this cemetery at that time.

Fritz's grave in Werchne-Bakanskaja

This is Fritz’s grave as it looked shortly after his burial, the grave-officer Doering sent this picture to my grandma. The cemetery remained until fall 1943 when the Germans retreated from this area. They put all wooden crosses on a huge pile and burnt them and all graves were leveled.

The cemetery; red arrow: Fritz's grave

Well, this is exactly 65 years ago now. The church is still there and the cemetery is a park now with huge old trees the Russians planted directly after the war. A Lenin-figure is still watching over the entrance of the park. Times come and go... And Fritz still lies there under the mighty trees beneath the church which is a club now, never forgotten by his family. And one day one of our family will come to this place, I swear!

The cemetery area today

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Pictures:

• Satellite-pictures: Google Earth
• all other pictures belong to Georgia; all rights reserved

Hand-Written Birth Record

This is the birth record of my father’s brother Fritz. I found it years ago when I searched for my uncle in Russia, where he died in 1943 only a few days after his 21st birthday.

I searched, because I wanted to make my father a present: I gave him all I could find about his brother, his birth record, his school testimonies, old pictures, his letters and my investigations about his fate, death and gravesite in Russia near the Caucasian mountains and made him a huge scrapbook from all this stuff.

What I didn't realized and noticed for the first time when I looked at the birth record again after a lot of years was that his birth record was written by Fritz's grandfather, my great grandfather Georg Albracht, who was mayor of the village at that time. I think this is very special. Who has a birth record written by the own grandfather? My great grandfather must have been the luckiest man on earth on this day, when he wrote the record on May 1, 1922, after my grandfather (his son-in-law) Friedrich Gutschank personally had come to him to announce the birth of his child. His wife Anna Gutschank, maiden name Albracht, has born a son Friedrich Wilhelm on April 26, 1922, at 12 o' clock a.m.at Wethen, Waldeck. This is what the text tells us.

This is my great grandfather Georg Albracht at about the time he wrote the record.

I don’t have the birth record of my father, but now I know that it is also written by my great grandfather. I still remember how my grandmother told me that she first wanted to name my father Karl-Georg, but her father (Georg Albracht) said to her that this wouldn’t be a good choice, because people would abbreviate the name K.G. and would call my father like this. So she chose only Georg. Carl and Gustav were only the second and third name. Carl (in American Charles or Chuck) and Georg have been traditional names of the Albracht-family. Until now the descendants in the village here are named like this. Gustav was chosen in honor of my grandfather's brother who also died very young in Russia during WW I.

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Pictures:  All rights reserved

When Boys Still Wore Dresses

This is a picture of my uncle Fritz, my father’s brother. Fritz died in May 1943 at the age of 21 in the Caucasian Region in Russia, but this is another story, which will be told at a different time.

My uncle Fritz, about 1923

When my grandma showed this picture to me for the very first time, I couldn’t believe that this was my uncle Fritz. Obviously the picture showed a little girl with a dress, which moved to an old wicker chair which still stood in my grandma’s kitchen when I was a teenage girl. My grandma Anna told me that until my father’s generation all little boys and girls used to be dressed up with little dresses, the boys until they were 3 or 4 years old. This was the age when they got their first short trousers.

85 year old dress my grandma made for her son Fritz

Grandma fetched an old hand-knitted dress from her wardrobe and showed it to me. She told me: „ When we ere little children we wore such dresses on Sundays. The boys got a blue satin ribbon around their waist with a big bow and the girls got a pink one. So we looked fine.“

Under the dresses the children wore – nothing! This saved a lot of laundry for the mothers who were busy in the household and on the fields. When the children wanted to pee, they hunched up near the manor pile. And if they were too little for managing this on their own, older children helped them by lifting their dresses. This way no diapers were needed and the children learned how to stay clean without any special potty-training. Well, nobody cared a lot if little accidents happened, because the homes didn’t have any carpets.

My grandparents with the boys (they are wearing short trousers and stockings!) about 1930

When the boys became 3 or 4 years old they got their first pair of trousers, which was an important event in their lives. During summer they only wore socks and boots. During winter-time they also wore thick hand-knitted stockings, which covered the whole leg. The stockings were fastened to the undershirt with buttons.

My uncle Fritz at the age of 3 or 4; about 1925

This is my uncle Fritz at the age of perhaps 3 or 4. He still looked like a little girl, but you can see that he is already wearing short trousers under his dress. There is no single picture of my father wearing a dress. It seems as if he never wore dresses, but little overalls my grandmother sewed for him like you see one on the picture.

My father in his little overall about 1926

Later he also wore short trousers, mostly in Bavarian style, little lederhosen. Also Fritz wore lederhosen. The picture shows the two brothers in the left foreground near the reverend.

The boys in lederhosen in front of the church

When the boys were confirmed at the age of 14 they got their first long trousers like the grown-ups. From this date on they counted as nearly grown-ups. School was over and the boys had to attend an apprenticeship, sometimes in a far away town like my father, who left his home at the age of 14.

And the girls? They kept on wearing dresses their entire lifetime. Until they went to school they still wore nothing but undershirts under the dresses. The first slips were worn when they attended school at the age of six. But before 1900 there have been also women who never wore slips, not because they would have been obscene, but because they were too poor to afford some. Needless to say that girls and women must have suffered a lot from the cold in fall and winter in their dresses! Mostly in the 60ies the clothing of girls changed a lot: Girls and women started to wear jeans and trousers more and more. I remember Hanne, the daughter of our neighbors at Duisburg, who wasn't allowed at that time wearing trousers or jeans without a dress or skirt over them, because wearing trousers without a dress that covers the front-zipper would be obscene. Until this time sports-trousers for women have had zippers at the side and not at the front. Us other children in the neighborhood already wore the new chick trouser suits. My friend Elke has had one in red and I had a black one with huge silvery buttons. Today I can't imagine not to wear jeans every day.

At the end here is a picture of my father and his brother which makes us rolling on the floor of laughter every time we look at it: They played country constable (my father, the little one) and hussar (Fritz, the taller one) at the backyard of our house. By the way, the clothes were made by my grandma. The two boys mostly wore the same clothes.

Playing country constable and hussar, about 1930 or before

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Pictures: All pictures belong to Georgia; all rights reserved; don't use them without my permission

Sotchi - 2014

Today the decision was made: In 2014 Olympic Winter Games will take part at Sotchi (map)in Russia. Sotchi is a wonderful town at the shore of the Black Sea and below the tops of the Caucasus Mountains.

Old buildings at Sotchi

Modern Hotels at Sotchi

Why am I enthused about this? The explanation is quite easy. The key word is „Caucasus Mountains“. My father’s brother was buried at the northern edge of the Caucasus Mountains in 1943 and we have not stopped searching for him and his grave since 64 years. For more information read my post: 64 Years of Hope and Disappointment.

Because the German „Krieggraeberfuersoge“ (this is an organization which works together with the International Red Cross and which cares for graves of soldiers of all nations of WW I and WW II and which tries to clear what happened to missing persons) can’t put him into another grave here in Germany – they don’t get any permissions for digging out the bodies which are buried in the middle of villages in Russia like my uncle – this would be a unique chance traveling there and visiting the grave of my uncle. I would find the place of his grave blind at night. I have studied the whole locality like it looked in 1943 and like it looks today. I have maps and pictures from 1943 and from today.

Typical village near Sotchi in the Caucasus Mountains

So why do I not just travel there? Until today authorities are warning people to travel there on their own. It’s still too dangerous there. But if there would be Olympic Winter Games quite near... Or perhaps the German „Kriegsgaeberfuersorge“ will organize travels when they have finished their huge cemeteries there. This would be another good chance.

There will remain only a few other small problems: What about the money, what about the date, because I have to work and can only travel during school-holidays, and what about my duties dealing with my mother, who can’t stay alone. And I'm afraid that my Russian has become very rusty in the meantime.

*Sigh*

As we say in Germany: „Kommt Zeit, kommt Rat“ (time will tell). And this news shows me that there will always be opportunities if you are patient enough to wait. And if there won’t be a possibility in 2014, there will be another later. But I will visit his grave one day, I’m sure! I’ve promised it to my grandmother on her very last day of her life.

The two brothers: Fritz (left) and my father Georg; the photo must have been taken in 1943

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Pictures:

• "Sotchi", "map", "typical village" are public domain
• "Two brothers" belongs to Georgia, all rights reserved

64 Years of Hope and Disappointment

A few days ago the "Deutsche Kriegsgaeberfuersorge", which is an organization that cares for the bodies of dead soldiers of the two world wars and tries to bury them in a portly way - by the way soldiers of ALL nations - called at us. Their work is a work for peace: People shall see all the graves of soldiers of all nations and shall think about the (non)sense of war. And those who lost loved ones shall be given the opportunity knowing about what happened to them and the opportunity saying good bye and mourning at their graves.

We thought that they might have found my father's brother Fritz, who was killed by a grenade on May 15th, 1943, in the Caucasus Mountains at the age of 21. He had just turned 21, on April 26. Poor  boy, he was such a kid. They took him to a hospital at Werchne-Bakanskaja, where they amputated his leg and tried to save his life by a blood transfusion (at that time this medical technique was totally new and they didn't use preserved blood but transfused it from man to man), but he died at last of a shock.

He is buried near the church which was used as a cinema and casino in Soviet times and later, when there was the German hospital during the war, as a ward for dying persons. I know from pictures where exactly his grave in the today park around the church is and I would find the place with closed eyes at night if I would be there. Since he died we have been searching for him and we never gave up. But this is a long story I will tell you later.

So we thought that they might have found him, because this institution at the moment disinters all dead soldiers in this area to bury them again on a huge cemetery at Krasnodar, which is near Werchne-Bakanskaja. But they only asked for a bit more money. I donated some money for their work. But they didn't find my uncle and it seems as if they wouldn't get permission by the Russians also disintering those soldiers who are buried in parks in the middle of villages. So it seems as if my uncle must stay far away from his home.

Picture: Grave of my uncle, in the background you see a part of the church

We already spoke about what we would do if they had found him: We would bury him here at the cemetery of our little village, where he belongs and where all his ancestors are buried and we would celebrate a grave funeral for him after he hasn't had a grave funeral 64 years ago. Otherwise we are afraid that he would probably buried in a mass grave, because this high number of bodies can't be buried in single gaves. This would be much too expensive. But it doesn't seem to come true at the moment that they would find him and we have to go on hoping and searching.

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Pictures: Originally uploaded by Georgia; all rights reserved