“It should be fun. Well, got to go. See you this afternoon.”
6:47 p.m.—Schwangau Haus, Schwangau, Ostallgäu District, Bavaria
“Abby! Benji! It’s time to get ready. Dinner starts in ten minutes.”
“I’m not hungry, Mom.” Benji barely looked up from the small table where he was putting together the jigsaw puzzle he had bought in the hotel gift shop earlier in the day.
“Me neither,” Abby called from the bedroom.
Edie sighed, giving her husband one of her looks.
“What?” Mitch was sitting on the small settee in their room, reading the local newspaper.
“I told you that if you let them open their chocolate on the train, they wouldn’t want any dinner tonight.”
“Honey,” Mitch said, looking not at all guilt stricken, “in the first place, we’re on vacation. In the second place, we are in the heart of alpine country. We are currently in the Bavarian Alps. We are only a mile or two from the Austrian border and the Austrian Alps. And about thirty-five miles to the west of us is the Swiss border and the Swiss Alps.” He held up one finger, as if lecturing a student. “Add to that the fact that Alpinmilchschokolade is the only German chocolate made with milk from the dairy farms located in these alpine areas and you have to admit that today our children had a unique cultural, as well as gastronomical, experience.”
“Oh, brother,” Edie muttered, rolling her eyes.
But Mitch was not done. Up came the index finger again. “In addition, I point out to you that the concierge in the dining room did indicate to us as we returned to the hotel that dinner tonight is a buffet and therefore will be served from seven until nine o’clock. Therefore, though our children may not be hungry at the moment, I predict they will be in another hour.”
“Brilliantly stated, professor,” she said. “There is only one slight miscalculation in your considerably verbose lecture on alpine milk chocolate.”
“And what is that?”
“Our children have yet to pack any of their things. And we are leaving for the train station in the morning, hopefully after we have had our breakfast. And therefore—”
A soft knock sounded on the door. Mitch got up quickly. When he opened it, Adelia Reissner was there. She wore a dress, a light sweater, and low heels and carried her purse. “Hi.”
“Come in,” Mitch said, stepping back.
“Are you going down for dinner?” she asked.
“Yes, we are,” Mitch exclaimed. “In fact, Edie and I were just talking about that.” He turned and clapped his hands sharply. “Benji! Abby! We’re going to dinner. Come right now.”
His tone was sufficiently firm that both children jumped up. Edie also got to her feet and smiled at Adelia. “Let me get a wrap too. It gets chilly at night here.” Then as she passed Mitch, headed for their bedroom, she added in a low voice, “Hypocrite!”
“You need to hurry, dear,” he called after her. “Remember, the twins haven’t packed yet and we have to get breakfast before we check out of the hotel in the morning.”
7:44 p.m.—Dining room, Schwangau Haus
“Dad? Can we go see the swans?”
Mitch looked to where Abby was pointing. The far wall of the dining room was all glass, and beyond it were the elegant grounds of the hotel. A creek ran through the grounds, and directly outside the dining room patio, someone had created a pond about fifty feet across. On it were half a dozen full-grown swans, their brilliant white plumage sharply contrasting with the lush green of the gardens.
“Me too, Dad,” Benji mumbled, stuffing the last forkful of German chocolate cake into his mouth. “I wanna go see too.”
“Children, we are in a hotel called the House of the Swans, in a town whose name means the Swan District. Of course you can go see the swans. It would be negligent of you not to do so.”
“But don’t leave the grounds,” Edie called as they shot away. Then she turned to her husband. “And what has got you in such an expansive mood?”
“My dear,” he said grandly, “we have just had a wonderful meal, we are in a hotel that looks like a small palace, in a valley that has got to be one of the most beautiful spots in all the world, and tomorrow we go to Oberammergau and participate in a world-famous, once-in-a-lifetime cultural experience, and you ask me why I am feeling expansive?”
Edie laughed softly. “All right. I can’t argue with that.”
Adelia chuckled as she watched the twins race to beat each other to the door. “They’re very competitive, aren’t they?”
Edie sighed. “That’s an understatement.”
“It’s amazing how good their German is. You must speak a lot of it in the home.”
“We have the last year or so,” Mitch agreed. “Before that we kind of let it slip. Once Oma Zimmer died we just kinda stopped speaking it.”
“When was it that she passed away?” Adelia asked Edie.
“A few days after Christmas in 1910.”
“So she never got to see the twins?”
“Not in this life. But every now and then both Mitch and I still get the feeling that she’s watching over them.”
“They’re darling.” Adelia hesitated and then added, “Am I wrong in thinking that Benji’s German is a little better than Abby’s?”
“No, you’re right,” Mitch said.
Edie nodded but added, “She’s pretty good too, but surprisingly, she’s very shy about talking to others in German. Which is so unlike her. Normally she’s a little chatterbox.”
“Wish some of Benji’s confidence would rub off on her,” Mitch said dryly. “He’s constantly running up to strangers and striking up a conversation.”
“Yes,” Edie said. “He and Mitch have mostly spoken German to each other for the last five or six months, and he’s really gotten confident in it. Or maybe cocky is a better word.”
“Well, they are going to have so much fun with the Eckhardts. Jacob says that the only one who really speaks any English is Hans. Emilee has picked up some from him and from her nursing. A lot of medical terms are in English. But the rest of their family will understand very little, which makes me sad. Jacob and you two are going to have to do a lot of translating for me.”
“Not so,” Mitch said gallantly. “You seem to be picking it up fast.”
“Thank you, but. . . . Well, I understand more than I can speak.” Adelia suddenly snapped her fingers and reached for her purse. “Which reminds me. I brought the pictures Sister Inga sent me. There’s a photo of each family and their names are written on the back.”
She scooted her chair around so she was seated beside Edie. Mitch did the same, coming to Edie’s other side. Adelia removed an envelope from her purse. In it were five or six black-and-white photos. “I thought it would be fun on the train tomorrow to let Benji and Abby try to learn all of their names.”
She held one up, showing the names. Each name had a number by it. “She’s also put their ages”
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Edie exclaimed. “Mitch and Jacob met everyone when they were here before, but I really want to learn their names too before we get there. We’re only with them for a few days, but I hope we can become good friends.”
Adelia handed the envelope to Mitch. “Since you know them, why don’t you introduce them to us? I know that we can’t learn them all right now, but I’d like to at least get an idea.”
“Sure,” he said, taking the pictures. He removed them from the envelope, studied them for a moment, and rearranged the order they were in. Then he leaned forward and held out the first one. “This is good. Sister Inga, as she likes to be called, has taken a photo of just her own immediate family—her, Hans Sr., and their own children and their spouses. Then each of her children has their own group photo. So let’s start here.” Mitch put the photo on the table between them and began to point.
“Hans Sr. and Inga have four children, three girls and a boy. The tallest and oldest of the girls is here.” He tapped the picture. “Her name is Ilse. She’s married to Karl—uh. . . .” He looked quickly at the back. “Karl Anhalt.”
“Don’t worry about their last names now,” Edie suggested. “We can do that on the train.”
“Good idea.” Mitch shuffled quickly and found Ilse’s family picture. “As you can see, Karl and Ilse have two girls, Annaliese and Kristen. Annaliese is eighteen now, Kristen is sixteen.”
“They’re beautiful girls,” Edie said, peering more closely at the photo.
“And not just outwardly,” Mitch said. “They are both just lovely, sweet girls.”
He went back to the first photo. “The second daughter”—he pointed—“is Heidi. She’s married to Klaus.” He selected another photo. “And here is their family. They have two boys and a girl. Klaus Jr., here, who is fourteen now, then Gerhardt, who is eleven, and the girl is Miki.”
“Oh, she’s a little doll,” Edie exclaimed. “How do you spell her name?”
“M-I-K-I. But since the I in German is pronounced like the long E sound in tree, it’s pronounced ‘Meekee.’” He said this primarily for Adelia’s sake. “She adores her uncle Hans, and he idolizes her.”
Adelia nodded. “Hans has said that Miki is really excited to have the twins coming. They’re close to each other in age, and she’s determined they are going to be the best of friends.”
“Oh, I hope so,” Edie exclaimed.
Again Mitch went back to the first photo. “The youngest of the Eckhardt daughters is Anna. As I remember, she is just five years older than Hans, so they are quite close. Her husband is named Rudi, and they have two children, Inga Helene and a baby boy just a few months old, who is named after Rudi. All three of the girls and their husbands and families live in Graswang with Inga and Hans Sr. They actually have cottages on the dairy farm, and the men now totally run the farm for the family.
“Finally, we have Hans, the youngest and only boy. When he’s around the family, they call him Hans Otto, but other than that, he’s just Hans. Hans’s wife is named Emilee. She’s from northern Germany. She and Hans met in a military hospital where she was a nurse and Hans had been sent after being wounded by friendly artillery fire. Hans now has his own truck repair shop in Munich, and they have Emilee’s mother and two brothers with them. Emilee’s family isn’t coming down from Munich, so we probably won’t get to meet them.”
Mitch pulled out another of the family group photos. “So here are Hans and Emilee. They have two little girls. The oldest is named Alisa—they call her Lisa—and she will be three in November. The baby is just five months now. Her name is Yolanda Elfriede, Yolanda being Inga’s middle name, and Elfriede, or Frieda, is Emilee’s mother’s name.”
“And Hans and Emilee are coming down to Oberammergau too, right?” Edie asked.
“That’s right,” Mitch answered. “Hans bought tickets for Emilee and his mother, who have never seen the play either. So they will be going with us.”
“What a wonderful family,” Edie said. “I can hardly wait to meet them all.”
“Wait,” Mitch said. “There’s one more. She wasn’t in the other Eckhardt family photo because she is Inga’s younger sister. Paula Grohl. She’s married to Wolfgang, who is a civil servant in Munich. Everyone calls him Wolfie. They have two married children that do not live close by, but they have two younger children, Gretl, another lovely young lady who is also sixteen, and Bruno, who, like our twins, was a little caboose for the Grohls. He’s just a year older than Miki and the twins.”
Adelia turned to Edie. “It was Paula who gave Inga the Book of Mormon that eventually converted her.”
Mitch put the pictures back in the envelope and handed it back to Adelia. “Thank you for remembering to bring these. It’s been long enough that even I can use help remembering everyone’s names.”
“We’ll have about three hours on the train, so we can review them again,” she said.
Mitch sat back. “Well, shall we get our brood? We’ve still got a lot of packing to do.”
Edie was looking at Adelia. “And Jacob will be there at the station in Oberammergau too?”
Adelia’s face broke out in a huge smile. “Yes. He’s in Munich by now and will come down with Hans and Paula and their families. I’m so excited to see him.”
“Is he pleased with what he’s finding in his research?” Mitch asked.
“Very. He says it’s been incredible. He had a chance to interview several members in the Dresden Branch about their experience during the war and right after it.”
“I’m excited to hear about it.” Then Mitch stood up. “I’ll go get the kids.”
“Um . . . Mitch?” Adelia seemed suddenly troubled by something.
He sat down again. “Yes?”
“Did you see the paper this evening?”
“I did. I was reading it when you came.”
“And did you see the figures on inflation?”
His mouth tightened into a narrow line. “I did. Unbelievable.”
“I didn’t see them,” Edie said. “Tell me.”
Mitch nodded to Adelia, suggesting she answer, so she did. “In January of this year, one dollar bought about one hundred ninety-two marks.”
“No!” Edie exclaimed. “That’s—” She was calculating in her head. “Wow! That’s almost twenty-five times higher than it was at the end of the war.”
“Yeah,” Mitch said. “Or to put it another way, if you had one thousand marks in the bank in January 1919, that would have been worth a hundred and twenty-five U.S. dollars. Today, that thousand marks would only be worth about five bucks.”
“No!” Edie cried again. “That can’t be right. Can it?”
“But listen to this, Edie,” Adelia said. “Today, the exchange rate is four hundred ninety-three marks to the dollar, or about two and a half times more than it was just six months ago!”
“Which means your bank account would be about two dollars now,” Mitch added.
Edie cocked her head and gave him a quizzical look. “Are you doing all of those figures in your head?”
He grinned. “No, I figured it out while I was reading the paper.”
Adelia was subdued now. “Think what that means to people who are on a fixed income, or the aged who are on a pension from the government.” She reached into her purse again and withdrew a sheet of paper folded in half. “Two nights ago, when we were still in Mannheim, Jacob called me. He told me about some of the interviews he’s been conducting in Berlin. He’s been talking to people about the rising inflation and how it’s affecting them.” She opened the paper. “This is from a German missionary talking about people he and his companion have been teaching. He said this: ‘The poor people of Germany have to live on nothing. Horse wurst are now appearing on many tables.’”
She looked up at Edie, whose face registered horror. “I know what horse wurst is,” she whispered. “Sausage made from horsemeat. Which means that farmers are probably killing their work animals for food.”
“And that’s not all.” Adelia read on. “‘They are now turning to dog and cat wurst, too. People are being forced to eat their household pets. Potatoes are now the main food of the poor. Some families have gone for five or six months without a mouthful of anything except potatoes. Coal is so scarce that only the rich can afford it. Who knows what that will mean for these people when winter comes again?’” She folded the paper and returned it to her purse.
Edie turned to Mitch. “Why doesn’t the government do something about the inflation?”
He sighed, and it was filled with pain. “According to Jacob, who knows how these things work better than I do, the government may be part of the problem.”
Edie was aghast. “But. . . .” She couldn’t think of words to express her
feelings.
“Last year, the Allied Powers finally handed Germany a bill for war reparations. The bill is a hundred and thirty-some billion marks. A sum so big that we can barely comprehend it. So how does a government that is already struggling financially even begin to pay that back?”
“I have no idea.”
“They start printing money. An increase in the money supply drives down the value of the mark, and bingo! You can pay off your debts with inflated money.”
“Wait,” Edie said. “If there’s more money, why wouldn’t people have enough to pay for things?”
Mitch leaned forward. “Let’s use a simple analogy of a cattle auction. Let’s say that twenty-five of us ranchers go to the auction to buy steers. And let’s further suppose that each of us has only ten dollars in our pockets. So the auction opens and the owner says he wants fifteen dollars a head. But none of us has that much. So, assuming he doesn’t want to put his cattle back on a train and take them home with him, what will he do?”
Edie thought for a moment. “He’ll sell them to you for ten dollars a head.”
“Exactly. So less money drives prices down, though that seems contrary to logic. But now let’s reverse it. Let’s say that the seller has only a hundred head to sell, but all twenty-five of us have a hundred dollars to spend. Now what happens?”
Edie saw it immediately. “He’ll ask for more money for each cow, because he knows he can get it.”
“Yeah, exactly. So more money actually inflates prices. Less money deflates prices. And right now, the Weimar government is flooding the country with money.”
“So what does that mean for us? Are we going to run out of money?” Edie asked.
“No, because we have brought dollars, which are a stable currency against the mark. So we come out ahead because the exchange rate is in our favor. But if you earn only two hundred marks per month, you can no longer afford groceries.”
“And you start eating your household pets to survive,” Edie murmured. “That is horrible. We really need to pay the Eckhardts for letting us stay with them and eat with them.”