A Look Back in Time: Memoir of a Military Kid in the 50s, Vol. II

By Bernard N Lee Jr

I remember walking along the railroad tracks near Grandma Mitchell's farm in Big Island, Virginia when I was five years old and wishing I could fol­low them to far-away places. No one who has ever lived near railroad tracks ever forgets that feeling. Now, as I look back in time, that feeling is still ther

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bernard N Lee, Jr
• Release date: Apr 12, 2021
• ISBN: 9780999557631

Bernard N Lee Jr

Bernard N. Lee, Jr. is the oldest son of a career veteran of the U.S. Army. Together with his family, he traveled throughout the United States and Europe during his childhood. The places he traveled, the people he met, and the stories he remembers are shared in his award-winning, memoir series, A Look Back in Time: Memoir of a Military Kid in the 50s, Vol. I, II, and 2nd Edition. Bernie attended Cameron Junior College in Oklahoma and Howard University in Washington, D.C. While at Howard, Bernie joined the Army ROTC Program, obtained a private pilot's license, earned a regular army commission, and subsequently retired as a Captain from the Army Reserves. After graduating from Howard with a BSEE, Bernie joined AT&T, in New Jersey, where he worked until retirement in 2003. Following retirement, Bernie realized his life-long dream of teaching high school students at the Somerset County Vocational & Technical High School. Bernie is a Director of the "How Big Is Your Dream?! Foundation, and a teacher of "Chess for Advanced and Beginning Students" at local academies. Bernie developed, and taught, a Summer School Reading Course (based upon his book series) for middle/ high school students at the Hill Academy. Bernie enjoys sharing his life's stories. He is a frequent guest speaker on the internationally syndicated Tribe Family Channel™ radio podcast. Bernie is a member of the Emmanuel Community Church and Local Post 77 of The American Legion. Bernie resides in Conyers, Georgia, with his wife of forty-four years, Edwina Lee.

Book preview

A Look Back in Time

Volume II

Second Edition

By Bernard N. Lee, Jr.

A Look Back in Time: Memoir of a Military Kid in the 50s Vol. 2, 2nd Edition

Published by Bernard N. Lee, Jr.

2300 Mallory Circle

Conyers, GA 30094-8201

Cover Design by TeMika Grooms

Book Interior Design and Layout by Urban Book Editor

Printed in the United States of America

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3

Second Edition

Copyright © 2021 by Bernard N. Lee, Jr. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

ISBN: 0-9995576-3-7

ISBN-13: 978-0-9995576-3-1

A Look Back in Time

Volume II

Second Edition

Dedication

To my Mother, Helen F. Lee, and

My Sister, Bernadine F. Dickerson,

who were both accomplished writers

and inspired me to emulate them.

To my Wife, Edwina,

who encourages me to read, write,

and continue to improve my craft.

To our children, Erik A. Moses and Angela F. Bostick,

who have blossomed in their careers

and encouraged me to pursue my own.

To my sister, Almaneta G. Kennedy,

and my brother, Mercer W. Lee, and

To the best friends a military brat could ever have,

Werner Don Gottwald and George Crosby.

You were there for me when I crossed the ocean,

so alone, into another world. I have never forgotten

how much your friendship meant to me

and still does all these years later.

Foreword

Bernard N. Lee, Jr. allows us to live vicariously through him and takes us on a culturally diverse journey so vividly in A Look Back in Time: Memoir of a Military Kid in the 50s.

Lee takes us with his close-knit family to Germany nearly a decade after World War II. His embrace of strong family values and his respect for his parents are especially apparent. These traits appear as an undercurrent throughout his work. His reminder to himself, We are in the Army… is a coping mechanism ingrained by his mom and dad. It requires that each member show respect and represent the family well wherever they go. His father was a member of the United States Army. The Army was a forward-looking institution during the 1950s. To survive as a unified fighting force, the Army broke civil rights barriers and was slightly ahead of a segregated American society at large.

The Lee family arrived in Germany, a country with fresh wounds from a devastating global war. Lee shows us his curiosity and desire to grow and meet new people in this foreign land. He shares his initial, short-lived anxiety of meeting newfound friends George and Werner, not knowing what these encounters would bring. Lee knew that his time in Germany would only be three years, but he was determined to make it work to make a fresh start. He knew he would miss the America he’d left behind, but he wanted to give the Europeans a chance. He hoped they would welcome him and respond likewise.

Lee would find acceptance in his inner circle of friends, strengthening their bond through music, sports, and other things young people experience as they grow up. Those things included going to chaperoned parties without their parents, drinking for the first time, smoking cigarettes and a tobacco pipe. Lee learned to navigate obstacles and withstand the periodic challenges that he faced. When the pressure of representing his class at school became too great, Lee confided in his new friends. They came to his rescue. In the company of my friends, I could feel the weight lifted from my shoulders, Lee said.

The writer tells us about his multicultural experiences in the 1950s. He describes learning to dance, playing ice-hockey with the local kids, and sitting in on a musical jam session in town. Lee immerses the reader in European and American cultures by sharing American popular music and his exposure to German literary arts. This reciprocal relationship works for the author, the local kids, and his newfound friends. Lee shares the music of Louis Satchmo Armstrong, James Brown, Little Richard, Fats Domino, Chuck Berry, and Elvis Presley, to name a few.

Meanwhile, his friend Werner, whose mother speaks German, sings beautiful lullabies in Deutsch. Surprisingly, Lee discovers that Werner possesses a wealth of knowledge about American baseball and American rock and roll. This is a revelation which, if you have ever had a similar experience, only makes the world seem smaller and people more alike.

Through A Look Back in Time: Memoir of a Military Kid in the 50s, the author, an army brat, has shown us who he is today. He is a man that profoundly values relationships. Those relationships, both intimate and extended, were formed by a kid with a strong family bond. That kid, who wanted a fresh start, was a primary support for his mom, who was often homesick for her relatives and friends, left behind in the American heartland.

Bernard N. Lee, Jr. convinces readers to book a ticket on his youthful journey so that we can learn valuable life lessons. We all should run to get on board and enjoy the ride.

Ernest R. Gilchrist

Author, Fusion of Cultures:

The Spirit of ArgyllAmerica™ Revealed

Atlanta, Georgia

Acknowledgments

The inspiration for this book came from my many years of traveling around the world and experiencing others’ lives through the lenses of a child whose father was in the military services. I owe many of my extended family memories to the recollections of my mother, Helen Lee. She spent hours with me recalling the experiences she had as a child, parent, and matriarch of our family. I am grateful to my brother, Mercer W. Lee, and my sister, Almaneta K. Lee, for their willingness to share their versions of our family’s history with me.

My wife, Edwina, and our children, Erik A. Moses and Angela F. Bostick, have been an essential source of grounding in my life for many years. They provide me with the encouragement I need to keep writing. They complete my world.

I received inspiration and encouragement from members of the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators, who included me in their writing workshops and manuscript reviews. I have received invaluable advice and exposure from attending events and conferences with the Atlanta Writer’s Club. Thank you, Ron Aiken – past President, for your gracious invitation.

I owe a debt of gratitude to author and Nürnberg High School Association historian, Bob McQuitty. Bob took the time to read, review, and provide feedback on my first book. He also recommended that I read his account of the 1950s in post-World War II Europe. I found Bob’s book, Prost, Herr Meier, to be delightful. Bob wrote, May this book rekindle the embers of your own German-American adventure. Thank you, Bob. Your writing, inspiration, and historical perspective helped me recall my own stories of my military childhood in Germany during the fifties.

There are people I have met who inspire me to continue to be creative. Abraham Martin is one of those people. I met Abraham at the 2017 Nürnburg High School Reunion in Denver, Colorado. During our conversations, he expressed an interest in helping me complete my book. He is a man of his word.

Thank you, Abraham, for reviewing sections of the book for understandable English – German translation.

I would also like to express my appreciation for the assistance I received from Jemme King, my friend at Emmanuel Community Church in Conyers, GA. I met Jemme after service at our morning coffee hour. During our brief conversation, he told me he had spent twenty-nine years in Germany and expressed an interest in reading my chapter on meeting the German Speaking Girl. I agreed, and he eagerly read and provided me feedback on my writing. Thank you, Jemme, for describing the vivid memories the chapter recalled for you in your own words.

The invaluable, professional assistance I received from my editor, Michele Barard of Urban Book Editor, has enhanced the final product. Her patient, skilled, and disciplined approach to producing manuscripts for publication ensure they will always be a quality product. I credit the successful release of this 2nd Edition to her patience, vision, and insight.

I want to thank my illustrator, TeMika Grooms, for her creative suggestions, which contributed to the book cover’s stunning array of colors. TeMika is a talented, professional illustrator who graciously agreed to update the book cover with a rendition of the Frankfurt Mein air terminal. TeMika also included recent critical book reviews and contest awards on the back cover.

I would also like to thank my friend Ernest Gilchrist of Atlanta, Georgia, for his insightful comments in the Foreword. Ernest was an early inspiration for my writing, and he continues to inspire me. Thank you, my friend.

I derive my sense of humor from my late Uncle Joseph Mitchell. I attribute the successful launch of this 2nd Edition of Book II to my cousin, Tralyne Usry. Tralyne put me on a schedule and guided me through the steps until launch day. Family memories, and family ties, continue to inspire and guide me as I look back in time.

Finally, I owe the wonderful memories of my traveling during childhood to my father, Staff Sgt. Bernard N. Lee, who left for his heavenly home in 2002. I owe my perseverance for writing to my sister, Bernadine F. Dickerson, who joined him in 2005. Their memories live on for me in the stories of my childhood.

Table of Contents

Preface 11

Prologue 14

Chapter 1: Leaving the Known World Behind 15

Chapter 2: Traveling in the New World 25

Chapter 3: Making New Friends 32

Chapter 4: Socializing with New Friends 44

Chapter 5: A Job at the Bowling Alley 59

Chapter 6: Our One Room School 71

Chapter 7: The Surprise Guest 79

Chapter 8: The Writing Contest 87

Chapter 9: Playing Ice Hockey 103

Chapter 10: Learning to Dance 114

Chapter 11: High School in Nürnburg 128

Chapter 12: Field Trip to a Pencil Factory 137

Chapter 13: Field Trip to a Deutsche Schule 145

Chapter 14: Field Trip to the Cinema 152

Chapter 15: Exploring Creative Opportunities 160

Chapter 16: Tackling Sports in Germany 168

Chapter 17: Unrest in the Motherland 184

Chapter 18: Unrest in the Sanctuary 198

Chapter 19: Thanksgiving Without Dad 218

Chapter 20: The German-Speaking Girl 228

Epilogue 235

Preface

I was the oldest of four siblings. That made me the point. I was the scout who went out first to ensure it was safe for my brother and sisters to follow. I took that challenge willingly. I learned to adapt and survive; it made my family proud. For more than twenty years, I traveled throughout the United States, and Europe, with my dad, a career soldier in the U.S. Army. The places we traveled, the people we met, and the memories I recall are shared in these stories of a military kid.

I experienced a lot of American history traveling throughout the United States and Europe in the 1950s. I captured stories from my travels and held on to them tightly. It was my way of creating a home, a safe place to be, as we moved every three years in the military. As a person of color, I realized my childhood was filled with challenges and adventures shared by many military and civilian kids.

I know now that kids are the same no matter where they live. I am confident you will find examples of your own childhood experiences within these pages. We are each unique, but there is a universal truth that runs through our childhood memories. We remember friends fondly. We recall lessons we learned vividly. We long to relive the most precious of those special days again. You can recapture those childhood memories within the pages of these stories.

This book is for the adventuresome child in you. You can discover so much about yourself as revealed through the stories inside. The stories will warm your heart because there is still so much love in the world we share. I was known as a military brat, an endearing term for kids who moved every three years with their military families. I never had an answer to the question, Where are you from? You will understand my dilemma if you have ever wondered where you belong. I have friends all over the world. I stay in touch with them through social media. When I can, I see them at group reunions. When I am unable to see them, I miss them.

If you traveled with your family during your childhood, these stories will feel remarkably familiar. If you are a Baby Boomer, who grew up in the fifties and sixties, these historical moments will take you back to those times. If you are an avid reader, these stories will surprise you as they light up the page. For military kids, active personnel, veterans, or family members, these stories are your life. So, rekindle your memory, discover secrets from the past, and enjoy the stories from A Look Back in Time.

If you knew your light was dimming,

But had memories left to share,

Would you take the time to write them?

Or wonder who would care?

If you found your past was fading,

And your present fleeting too,

Would you capture it for those you love,

As I have tried to do?

I have lived in many places,

I have traveled far-and-wide,

Serving God beside my Country,

With honor and with pride.

I was here for precious moments,

Very soon I will be gone,

So, I choose to share my memories,

Knowing they will linger on.

Prologue

I remember walking along the railroad tracks near Grandma Mitchell’s farm in Big Island, Virginia, when I was five years old and wishing I could follow them to far-away places. No one who has ever lived near railroad tracks ever forgets that feeling. Now, as I look back in time, that feeling is still there; so are the memories of all the places I traveled as a military kid in the service with my dad. Of all those memories, none is more vivid than the three years we spent together as a military family in the late-1950s living in Germany.

It was a magical time to be a kid living in a far-away place, experiencing the life and culture of Deutschland. The places we traveled, the people we met, and the stories I remember are shared in this memoir.

Chapter 1: Leaving the Known World Behind

The Flight Across the Atlantic

Our day of departure had finally arrived. We were safe aboard the large transport plane taking us to our next destination at Frankfurt Airport in Germany. I had never flown before, so I was unprepared for the intense roar of the engines. The aircraft lumbered down the taxiway. We reached our takeoff point and turned gently to the right onto the runway, which ended just before the water’s edge.

I was equally unprepared for the sudden shaking of the aircraft. It shook as if a windstorm was buffeting it. It was an unsettling experience. The gigantic wheels rumbled down the runway, causing the cab to vibrate. The combination of noise and motion made me feel like the plane was about to fall apart. I held my breath, then closed my eyes and said a silent prayer. I didn’t need my sudden negativity to weigh down the aircraft, just when it appeared to be struggling to fly. As always, prayer worked. We lifted off the ground and were finally on our way.

The C130 Hercules’s takeoff had been magnificent. The airplane rose ever so slowly like a massive houseboat lifted aloft on a magical flying carpet. The New York City lights shone brightly below and glistened in my eyes when I opened them to peer outside. My mom rested her head on my dad’s shoulder. Dad stared straight ahead, contemplating unknown challenges yet to come. My sister, Bernadine, held the baby tightly. My brother, Mercer, laid his head in my lap.

The huge bird rose into the sky carrying its precious cargo of military families tucked safely aboard. We were scheduled to fly for most of the night. It had been a rough few days, and our family was tired. Despite the jolts and bumps coming from the air currents rising above the mighty Atlantic Ocean, everyone else had fallen asleep. I rested my head on the headrest and marveled at God’s magnificent creation. The heavens were in plain view, transformed in the star-speckled darkness of night.

I listened to the roar of the powerful engine as it propelled us forward. The noise drowned out all my thoughts of yesterday and replaced them with the anticipation of new adventures to come.

In time, I stopped holding my breath and allowed my body to adjust to the frequent jolts and bumps that accompanied us throughout the flight. My mind gradually adapted to the new quarters and slowly put me at ease. I don’t know when I dozed off to sleep. I must have been lulled into restfulness by the hum of the engines. They whirred dutifully, and the big bird rose boldly into the sky. Upward it sailed and carried us into the blanket of clouds covering the edge of God’s Blue Heaven.

As we sailed high above the clouds, my dreams recounted vivid memories of the past. I replayed all the moves we had made, thought about past neighborhoods we had left and the schools I had attended. I recalled my elementary school days in Maryland, where I learned how to make friends with the class bully. My younger sister, Bernadine, helped me survive that challenge. I remembered the newly built school we attended in Georgia. It was the mid-1950s, and separate schools for Negroes was the prevailing custom at that time. We were bused far out into the country away from the rest of our white friends on the post.

I pondered the circumstances that caused me to pummel a kid to the ground during PE class in Texas. Was I too sensitive and unable to hide my feelings? Did my outburst come from the frustration of so many forced military moves and changes? I didn’t know. I didn’t get into trouble often, but when I did, it was usually serious. I recalled being escorted to a Military Police compound and questioned extensively about vandalism discovered in our neighborhood. My dad and his reputation saved me from the clutches of those false accusations. I worried that my dad would not always be there to protect me. It was a secret fear I kept to myself. We were dependents; our futures depended upon the continued good fortune of our military dad.

I tried to block out negative thoughts. I had survived more than one perilous situation. On one rainy day in Oklahoma, I had crawled out from under an armored personnel carrier when I should have been mangled just as severely as my bicycle. Would I be that fortunate if death stalked me again? Would I be that foolish to place myself in jeopardy to find out? I hoped not. I needed a fresh start, one with a clean slate. I was looking forward to getting my chance at the end of our journey to the other side of the world. We were on our way to Dad’s new assignment in Europe. I knew this move was different. I would never be the same person once I reached the distant shore. My entire world would be colored by all the new experiences that awaited me, which were far beyond any small boy’s imagination. It would not be the only time I would ever travel beyond the shores of the USA. However, it was my first time, and for a military brat in the 1950s, that would make all the difference.

A few hours later, my dad reached under his seat and retrieved a box loaded with military rations. He roused us and asked if we wanted something to eat. We eagerly awaited as he unwrapped the food. He opened a few cans and handed them to us with utensils. My sister and brother, Bernadine and Mercer, looked at the open cans of sh... on a shingle and passed them over to me. I guessed their stomachs were a little queasy, and they didn’t want to take a chance. I accepted their leftovers eagerly. As they watched, I ate my rations and theirs. As my stomach filled, my nerves calmed. My earlier anxiety about flying waned. I gradually dozed off to sleep, aided by the hum of the engines in the background. They whirred continuously, providing the thrust needed to propel the giant plane through the sky. Moments later, I began to dream. In my dream, I floated high above the earth into a dark blanket of clouds.

Suddenly, my restful dream was interrupted. The plane was shaking violently, and I held on to the headrest to steady myself. The portal shades had been drawn while we slept, so I couldn’t tell if it was night or day.

The plane veered sharply to the left, and I began to develop a queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. We were changing course, but I didn’t know why. Bernadine stirred beside me. She rubbed her eyes and peered at the shuttered window. Suddenly, she turned to me and asked if I was awake. I had been staring at the inside of my eyelids, too afraid to open my eyes. I grasped her hand and didn’t say a word. The plane changed direction again and lunged forward. I was just about ready to fall out of my seat when a voice came over the intercom instructing us to fasten our seatbelts and prepare for a landing.

Landing where? Weren’t we in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean? I wondered. I waited for a further explanation to follow. None did.

Were we expected to put our heads in our laps? We had been instructed to do just that during emergency air raid drills in school. No such instructions followed. I held my breath, squeezed my sister’s hand, and waited for us to crash land into the ocean. I was near panic. That’s when I noticed my dad open his window shade to peer out into the night. I summoned the courage to follow his lead and pushed mine upwards just slightly. I could see a faint glimmer of light to our left. The light seemed to be suspended in the middle of nowhere. I wondered if lifeboats were already circling below to rescue us. That thought reminded me of how tight my stomach muscles had become. I prayed silently to hold myself together, no matter what came next. My siblings and the rest of my family would expect that of me.

Suddenly, the giant plane shook violently. I could feel the bottom dropping out of the fuselage. I prayed that it would hold up under all the stress. I reached under the seat to search for the flotation device. I stretched out my hand just as the plane swerved and plunged towards the earth. I braced for the impending collision. The crash seemed to take forever to materialize. The aircraft rocked gently from side-to-side as it floated above the waves. I waited for it to hit the water. To my surprise, it never did. Instead, the aircraft dropped suddenly onto a blacktop runway.

We had avoided a tragedy and landed on an island in the middle of the ocean. Our unexpected stop-over was in the Azores, a set of nine volcanic created islands belonging to Portugal. The main islands were situated about 850 miles west of the mainland. Terceira has an airfield at Lajes Air Base operated jointly by the Portuguese Air Force and the United States Air Force. I expect that was the field we chose for our stopover.

It was an early summer morning, and the terminal seemed to be buzzing with activity. The airport flight director’s team came rushing out to meet the plane. A tall man wearing a tan jumpsuit and a dark green helmet waved red batons to communicate with the cockpit. He looked sharp as he flashed his directional signals to the pilot. The gigantic albatross purred, sputtered, and lurched forward. It began tracking the ground controller’s movements while we stared out of the portals. It didn’t take long for the plane to ease into a parking spot on the apron and tamp down the engines. We watched intently as the ground crew prepared for our disembarking. The minutes stretched into what seemed like an hour until we finally heard the C130 ramp roll down.

Mom rustled my younger brother, Mercer, who was still fast asleep. He yawned, stretched, and then tried to focus his eyes out the window to see what had caused the commotion. The pilot’s voice burst over the loudspeaker and startled us. We were told to leave our belongings where they were and follow the in-flight attendant’s directions for disembarking. My mother wrapped the baby in her arms. My sister, Bernadine, hugged the baby’s bear. Dad rose and pointed to the exit where an attendant was directing passengers to leave the plane. We followed Dad, and soon we were standing on solid ground. Although we hadn’t stretched in hours, we were expected to walk the distance to the open terminal doors on our own.

Mom seemed comforted as my dad held onto her and the baby. I took my sister’s hand, and my brother clung to her arm as we hobbled across the tarmac. Walking again after a long plane ride was challenging.

The morning air was refreshing but salty. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. I smelled the cool ocean breeze as it peppered our faces with the scent of fresh seaweed and sand. There were no visible stars; instead, a faint shadow of moonlight shone through the thick cloud cover. My dreamy interlude was arrested abruptly when misty water droplets began to collect on my face. I opened my eyes and was startled momentarily by the rain droplets drifting in the wind. I had a flashback to the time I crashed my bicycle in the misty rain. It was an unsettling memory.

I was startled out of my daydream just in time to see the ground maintenance crew roll up. They were hunkered down in what appeared to be a wide-body personnel carrier. The vehicle whisked by us, and we continued toward the terminal. Inside, I gasped at the vast, open-air hangar above our heads. The room was lined with hardwood benches that resembled rows of seats in an old bus station. A faintly lit corridor pointed the way to the restrooms.

I looked towards Dad. He motioned towards the sign for the head. My brother and I nodded our agreement and then followed him. The large, hulking door peered down at us as we approached the entrance to the men’s restroom. This was a military pit stop, so I already knew what to expect. There would be no individual urinals. There might not be any completely enclosed toilets. When you are men in the military services, you share and share alike. Dad pushed against the heavy wooden door, and it gave way begrudgingly. I thought he would enter first, but he motioned for us to go ahead of him. The acrid smell of bleach wafted throughout the stark, dank quarters. The stench hung in the air and smacked us in the face. It was reassuring to know that some things never change, not even thousands of miles away from home. I took my brother’s hand, and we found a spot