Pioneers and Refugees:: A Danube Swabian Saga

By Ernst Fischer

It is 1774 and eleven-year-old Karl Schuler has already endured unthinkable hardship and sorrow. Orphaned years ago, he has been living with his oma in Duchy of Württemberg ever since. But when she suddenly passes away, Karl must leave everything he knows behind once again and move in with his Uncle Nicolas in Stuttgart.
Meanwhile, Gunther and Maria Mueller are living with their three sons in Kelheim, Bavaria. Although they are not wealthy, they are happy. But when Gunther dies and their rent must be paid, Maria must do whatever it takes to help her family endure their struggles. As time passes and the two families persevere through one challenge after the other, their greatest obstacle comes when they decide to participate in the Danube Swabian trek. Filled with pride and determination to seek a better life, now only time will tell if they can survive turbulent times and leave a legacy for their descendants.
In this historical tale based on true events, two families decide to embark on the great Danube Swabian trek, ultimately transforming their lives and legacies forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Feb 8, 2022
• ISBN: 9781665715157

Ernst Fischer

Born in Austria, Ernst Fischer (1899-1972) studied philosophy before working as a newspaper editor, radio commentator, and writer; in the years after World War II he became a leading cultural commentator. His books include Art Against Ideology and The Necessity of Art.

Book preview

Copyright © 2022 Ernst Fischer.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by

any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying,

recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system

without the written permission of the author except in the case of

brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents,

organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products

of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Archway Publishing

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.archwaypublishing.com

844-669-3957

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or

links contained in this book may have changed since publication and

may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those

of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher,

and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are

models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Arrival of the Danube Swabians in the Banat, by Stefan Jaeger"

http://hatzfeld-banat.de/

ISBN: 978-1-6657-1516-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6657-1514-0 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-6657-1515-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2021923228

Archway Publishing rev. date: 2/2/2022

CONTENTS

Dedication

Acknowledgements

Preface

Part 1

1 Fall 1774 Duchy of Württemberg

2 Fall 1774 Eastern Bavaria

3 Fall 1773 Stuttgart, Germany

4 Spring 1776 Eastern Bavaria

5 Spring 1785 Stuttgart, Germany

6 Late Summer 1785 Eastern Bavaria

7 Fall 1785 Regensburg

8 Late October 1785 Vienna

9 Early November 1785 Belgrade

10 The Road to Werbass

11 The Road to Pancevo

12 Werbass

13 Pancevo

14 Werbass

15 Pancevo

16 Werbass

17 Pancevo

18 Christmas Week 1785 Werbass

19 Christmas Eve, 1785 Pancevo

20 Spring 1786 Pancevo

21 Spring 1786 Werbass

Interlude

Part 2

1 November 1938 Werbass, Yugoslavia

2 April 1939 Pancevo, Yugoslavia

3 Late Summer 1939 Werbass, Yugoslavia

4 Late Summer 1939 Pancevo, Yugoslavia

5 Early Spring 1940 Werbass, Yugoslavia

6 Late April 1940 Pancevo, Yugoslavia

7 May 10, 1940 Werbass, Yugoslavia

8 April 6, 1941 Belgrade, Yugoslavia

9 April 6, 1941 Werbass, Yugoslavia

10 April 6, 1941 Pancevo, Yugoslavia

11 Late April 1941 Pancevo, Yugoslavia

12 Late summer 1941 Werbass, Yugoslavia

13 Fall 1941 Pancevo, Yugoslavia

14 Spring 1943 Werbass, Yugoslavia

15 Spring 1943 Pancevo, Yugoslavia

16 Early Spring 1944 Werbass, Yugoslavia

17 Early Fall 1944 Eastern Batschka Province

18 Late September 1944 Werbass, Yugoslavia

19 Early Fall 1944 Eastern Batschka Province

20 Late October 1944 Niederhausen, Germany

21 October 1944 Pancevo, Yugoslavia

22 Early January 1945 Budapest, Hungary

23 Mid-January 1945 Neustadt, Czechoslovakia

24 February 1945 Northern Austria

25 July 1945 Gusen Concentration Camp

26 April 28, 1945 Vienna, Austria

27 Mid-October 1945 Kaisersteinbruch, Austria

Epilogue

DEDICATION

In honor of my parents, Josef and Henriette Fischer, whose stories and experiences in Yugoslavia before, during and after the Second World War inspired this book. Their courage, perseverance and hard work made it possible for my family and I to enjoy the life we have.

To my children, grandchildren, and the generations that follow, to learn about, appreciate and remember your Oma and Opa.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Some years ago, my mother, Henriette Fischer, wrote the story of her life which included the period of time she lived in Yugoslavia before, during and after the Second World War. Many of the events in this book were based on her stories and experiences.

Her cousin, Hannelore Felch, inspired by my mother’s work, also documented her family’s experiences in Yugoslavia. Some of those stories are also mentioned in this book.

This book was a long-time in the making and my wife Sue encouraged me, was my sounding board, and sometime critic. She patiently proofread and edited the book and helped me polish my grammar.

My sincere appreciation and thanks to you all.

PREFACE

Beginning in the 12th century, German merchants, tradesmen and miners began to settle in the Kingdom of Hungary at the invitation of the Hungarian monarchy. The next four hundred years saw continuing periods of war and shifting borders among the various kingdoms of the region. During the 17th and 18th centuries, warfare between the Hapsburg Monarchy and the Ottoman Empire decimated many of those early settlements and populations.

At the end of the 17th century, the area between the Danube and Theiss Rivers, called the Batschka, had been conquered by the Hapsburgs from the Turks. The expulsion of the Turks led to a large territory of uninhabited land with great potential. This opportunity to expand the Hapsburg Kingdom resulted in an organized settlement program sponsored by the Monarchy.

The Hapsburgs had three goals: fortify the land against future invasion by the Turks, develop sustainable farm land, and further the Roman Catholic religion in Eastern Europe. Maria Theresia was the Empress of the Holy Roman Empire as well as the Queen of Hungary and Bohemia from 1717-1780. She was also a devout Catholic and gave all benefits and preferences to those who shared her faith. Therefore, only Catholic families were initially permitted to settle in the new lands. Protestants were an oppressed population. They were not allowed to own any land, but rather had to rent the land on which they lived and work for their feudal lords and dukes for little or no income.

When Maria Teresia’s son, Joseph II, became Emperor in 1780, he ended the oppression of the Lutheran and Reformed churches in both Hungary and Austria. He believed the farmers and craftsmen were the foundation upon which society built its wealth. Consequently, he was loved by the peasants, but not by the nobility. He opened up settlement opportunities to the Protestants in 1782 and many took advantage of this chance, despite the efforts of the local lords and nobility to stop or hinder their leaving.

Many of these settlers came from southeastern Europe and came to be known as Swabians. Since they settled largely in the Danube Valley region, they later became known as Danube Swabians.

This is the story of two families whose ancestors participated in the great migration of the late 1700’s and their descendants living in Yugoslavia during the years leading up to the Second World War. It follows the families through the war years and the impact it had on their lives.

It is a story of proud, hardworking people and their determination to survive during very turbulent times. It is a work of fiction, but many of the historical events are accurate and the lives of the people depicted are largely based on stories told and recorded by the people that experienced them.

63336.pngGettyImages899169038.jpg

1

Fall 1774

Duchy of Württemberg

I t was Monday, and the bright early morning sun coming through the small window in the bedroom was at just the right angle to hit the boy in the face as he rolled over in his bed. He opened one eye to make sure it actually was the sun, then rolled back over, wanting to savor just a few more minutes of rest before his workday would begin. He closed his eyes and his mind began to drift to memories over the past two years.

Karl Schuler was just twelve years old, but he had been through more hardship and sorrow than someone twice his age. His mother, Elizabeth, died following his birth, the midwife powerless to stop her bleeding. Elizabeth lived long enough to be able to hold him for a few minutes and give him the name Karl, in honor of her own father who had passed just the year before.

Karl’s father, Jakob, was a part-time laborer in the town where they lived. Part-time, because most of his time was spent in the village pub, or elsewhere so intoxicated that he could do nothing productive. Jakob was ill-equipped and certainly not inclined to raise a son alone so he took the baby boy to Elizabeth’s mother, handed him to her, and walked out the door, never to be heard or seen again.

Marta Schmidt was a formidable woman. She was robust in body and spirit, and she took Karl into her home without hesitation. Marta was a seamstress, making and mending clothes for many of the people in the village. She rarely accepted money for payment; most people paid her in milk, coffee, tea, eggs, flour or other food staples or items she needed. She was kind and generous to her neighbors and welcomed the children into her home with sweet biscuits and milk. She was ‘Oma,’ grandmother, to everyone.

She lived by herself in the cottage her husband, Karl, built when they were first married. They both grew up in this town, Esslingen, which was about twenty miles from Stuttgart. Their families were neighbors and they played together as children. Their parents joked that they were destined for each other, and Karl and Marta proved them to be right.

Karl was a stone mason, so the walls of the house were built with stone he dug from the surrounding land. The floor was wood, and the roof was a simple gable with a wood frame and wood shingles. It was a single-story rectangular home, typical of the time and region. The front door opened into a large room with an iron stove in one corner and a stone fireplace in another, serving as kitchen, dining room, and living area. In the center of the room was a large table with several chairs around it. Chairs and smaller tables completed the room. A rocking chair sat in front of the fireplace, where Marta did most of her work. A small hallway led to three small bedrooms at the back of the house. A back door led outside to the latrine and to a small pen intended for small animals that had gone unused for many years.

The home was well suited for a young family of five, but Marta, living there alone for the past year, now found it cavernous and sterile. There were bolts of cloth and other sewing accoutrements spread throughout the large room, as well as dresses, trousers, and coats in various stages of completion. There was a large picture of three children, two boys and a girl, sitting on the fireplace mantle. They were hand drawn by a local artist, payment to Marta for a suit she made for him several years ago.

Even though Marta was well loved and respected by her neighbors in the village, she often felt lonely in the cottage. This home held so many memories of the children laughing, crying, and fighting with each other, and of her husband Karl, whom she had known since they were children growing up in the village together. The thought of her grandson having to be raised without a mother or father made her terribly sad, and she welcomed the thought of this home being filled with the noises of a child again.

She raised Karl as if he were her own, and even when he was an infant, she started telling Karl stories about his mother. Every night as he lay in his bed, she would sit with him and tell him another story. She always ended a story with the words, and your mother loves you very much. She kept a picture of Elizabeth, done when Elizabeth was sixteen years old, on a shelf in the main room of her house. She always placed the picture next to Karl when she told him stories.

One night, when Karl was about three years old, he asked his grandmother if it was his fault that his mother died after giving birth to him. She looked at his sad eyes and drew him close to her bosom, replying to him in her quiet, soothing voice. Of course not, Karl. It wasn’t anybody’s fault. It was just something that happened. It was God’s will, nothing more. Karl had a hard time understanding why God would want his mother to die. That notion of God was something Karl would never understand.

Marta took Karl to mass with her every Sunday. She was raised Roman Catholic and even though her husband Karl, did not usually attend church, she was a faithful member of the local parish.

Grandson Karl would be polite and obedient in church but didn’t understand why the priest always seemed to be berating the congregation during his sermons. As far as he could tell, no one had done anything to deserve such a scolding. It just reinforced his belief that God was not a very nice being.

Marta also told Karl about his father but was very careful not to give any reason to think that his father’s leaving was in any way Karl’s fault. There was no point in telling him that his father was a worthless drunk and deserted him, so she told her grandson that his father left to try to find a better job and a new home for them in the city of Stuttgart about twenty miles away, intending to send for Karl when he had settled down. Something must have happened to his father, Oma would say, because Jakob loved Karl very much, and would want to be with him. Karl seemed to accept the story, at least at first, but as he got older he had more and more questions about his father. Marta did her best to provide vague and simple answers, but she could see that Karl was skeptical. Fortunately, Karl did not press the questions.

Besides Elizabeth, Marta and Karl had two sons. The older son, Andreas, was conscripted into the military as a foot soldier at the age of seventeen to fight in one of the many wars. It seemed to be a continuing way of life in the region: dukes and earls positioning and fighting for small scraps of land to enhance their own wealth, drawing on the young men of the families that lived on their lands to fight their battles.

She didn’t even remember what prompted this particular war or how it was resolved, only that her son was brought home, his body in a cart along with six other young men of the village. Andreas was the oldest of those men – just boys, really. The duke gave each of their families five gulden, which Marta used to pay the undertaker and provide for a Catholic mass and burial in their parish cemetery.

The younger son, Nicolas, married a girl from their village and moved to the city of Stuttgart, where he found work as a blacksmith. Nicolas and his wife, Petra, had two sons of their own. At first, Nicolas and his family made frequent trips home to see his mother and nephew Karl. Karl was a few years older than the boys, but he always enjoyed having someone to play with. Marta, of course loved the time with her grandchildren and wished they could be closer. But as the years passed, those visits became less frequent and a visit once every few months became more the norm.

So, for the last ten years, it was just Karl and his Oma living in her home, but he never felt lonely. Friends of Oma and their children were always visiting, bringing food, playing games, and telling stories. Karl attended the village school, where he excelled as a student, earning the teacher’s praises. Despite the loss of his parents, Karl felt he was a very lucky boy.

As Karl was lying in his bed that Monday morning, he was remembering those days not so long ago with his grandmother. It was the only family he ever had, and he missed her every day.

It was a cold, late fall day just a little over a year ago. He awoke to an early snowfall, and after getting dressed, he and Marta went outside to bring in some wood for the stove. Marta slipped on some ice and fell hard on her side, crying out in pain. Karl rushed over to her to try to help her up, but she could not move without excruciating pain. He then noticed her left leg was bent at an unnatural angle, and her lower leg bone was protruding through her skin about midway between her ankle and her knee. Blood was seeping steadily from the wound. Karl ran to a neighbor’s house to get some help. The neighbor and Karl lifted her into a cart, put some cloth over the wound, and took her to the village’s doctor. She was awake but in a great deal of pain.

The doctor took a look at her leg and shook his head. He said to Karl, "This is very serious, please wait outside and I will call you in when I have finished with her.

About an hour later he came outside and spoke to Karl.

Her leg was badly broken. I was able to push the bone back into the leg, lining up the broken sections as best I could. I cleaned and stitched up the wound and wrapped it tightly to set the bone in place. However, it is going to take many weeks for the leg to heal. I gave her some medicine to help with the pain. She is sleeping now.

Karl looked at the doctor, and the doctor, expecting his question said, Assuming there is no infection, and the bone heals as it should, she will be able to walk again. She may have a limp and there will likely be some pain for quite a while. She will need to stay in bed for at least four weeks, then we can see how she is doing.

Karl was frantically thinking of how he, an eleven-year-old boy, was going to care for an older woman. Again, the doctor, anticipating the boy’s concern said, I will have some of the village women come by your house every day to help your grandmother with her needs and to help with the cooking and cleaning.

Karl, looking much relieved, said, Thank you doctor, I will do my best to look after her.

The doctor patted Karl on the head and reached into his cabinet. I know you will. Handing him a small bottle of liquid, he said, This is for the pain. If the pain becomes too intense, she can have one spoonful. She should not take more than three spoonful a day.

The doctor started to leave, then turned and said, I will be over in a couple of days to change the dressing, but if you need me sooner, send for me.

Karl and a neighbor lifted Marta from the bed onto an old wooden wheelchair that was in the doctor’s office. They gently wheeled her to a horse-drawn cart and lifted her onto the back of the cart. They got her into a sitting position and placed pillows, blankets, and straw all around her and under her injured leg to absorb the vibrations of the bumpy ride home. They put the wheelchair in the cart to take with them so she could use it at home once she was able to get out of bed. She was now conscious, but having just taken a spoonful of the medication, she was groggy. She did recognize Karl and murmured something about being a lot of trouble to everyone. When they got her properly positioned on the cart, she promptly fell asleep again.

The ride home took longer than usual, moving extra slowly to minimize the bumps and avoiding holes in the road. Marta slept the whole way home, for which Karl was thankful. When they got home, the neighbor and Karl lifted her out of the cart, put her in the wheelchair, and took her to her bedroom. They moved her into her bed, placing her on her back, and putting pillows under her leg and around her body to restrict any movement. The doctor had emphasized to Karl that she would need to stay as still as possible, especially for the first two weeks. Any extreme movement of her injured leg would prolong its healing.

Once she was settled in her bed and resting, the neighbor left, with thanks from Karl. He started a fire in the fireplace to heat up the house. He got some food and drink from the pantry and sat down in a chair in front of the fireplace. He was warmed by the fire but could also see his Oma in her bed. It was getting dark, and Karl realized just how tired he was from the day’s events. After finishing his meal, he fell asleep sitting in the chair.

Karl awoke the next morning to unfamiliar noises. It took him a few seconds to recognize the sounds as groans coming from his Oma. He jumped out of the chair and to her bedside where she appeared to be in great discomfort, somewhere between sleep and wakefulness.

Oma, Oma, he said with a bit of panic in his voice. It’s me, Karl. Oma wake up. He stirred her gently to try to awaken her. She opened her eyes, a look of disorientation in her pale blue eyes.

Oma, Oma, it’s me, Karl, he repeated, careful to calm the tone of his voice. Please, wake up Oma.

Finally, her open eyes focused on Karl’s face. She calmed down and clutched his arm. Karl, my boy, what has happened?

Oma, you broke your leg, badly. The doctor set your leg but said you are going to have to spend two weeks in bed until your leg starts to heal. He had to put the bone back in since it was sticking out of your skin. It was ugly. How are you feeling?

Marta tried to adjust her position so she could get in a more upright position. Karl quickly said, Oma, don’t move. The doctor said you have to remain still, so you do not disturb the leg.

Marta, now fully awake, continued to try to scoot in the bed and said, Boy, I’m not going to lay flat in this bed for two weeks. Now help me so at least I can sit up and look at you.

Karl took her willful tone as an indication that she was feeling better. He put pillows under her head and gently helped her scoot back so she could at least be in a semi-sitting position.

I guess I have really made a mess of it now, haven’t I? I am so sorry to have put you through this Karl.

Karl put his hand in hers, Now Oma, it’s going to be all right. You will get to rest a few weeks. It may take some time, but you’ll be up and around in no time.

But who is going to take of you?

The doctor has arranged for a few women in the village to come by every day and bring food and help you get dressed. Besides, I’m eleven years old, I can take care of myself just fine he said self-confidently.

Of course you can Karl. She tussled his hair.

I’ll make you some fresh tea, and we have some biscuits leftover from yesterday.

Karl crossed the room to open the stove, stoked the embers from the overnight fire, and added more wood to build it up again. He filled one pot with water from the pitcher and put it on the stove, then took another pot to place the tea leaves on the bottom. Once the pot with water started boiling, he poured the hot water over the tea leaves and let it steep for a few minutes. He poured the fresh tea into two cups, with a biscuit for each of them, and brought them to her beside. He propped Marta up as much as he could and gave her the cup of tea and biscuit while he sat on the edge of her bed with his own.

Martha was impressed and said with a sly smile, Why thank you Karl, I might get to enjoy being cared for like this.

Karl laughed, You better not, unless all you want is tea and day-old biscuits. This is about as much as I can cook.

They both enjoyed a good laugh. They finished their breakfast and Karl said, I need to go outside and do some chores. Will you be alright here by yourself?

Marta wiggled about a little and replied, Yes of course– where would I go?

Karl returned about two hours later. He took one look at Marta and saw she was in great discomfort. Her eyes were closed, she was pale and sweating, and her breathing was rapid and labored.

Oma, Karl said. What’s wrong.?

She opened her eyes and tried to hide her discomfort with a smile. Oh Karl, my leg is hurting a little.

Karl went to get the bottle of medicine the doctor had given him. He got a spoon and went over to Marta. Here, he said, the doctor said you should take a spoonful of this for the pain.

Without waiting for a response from her, he poured the liquid onto the spoon and carefully guided it into her open mouth. She grimaced as it passed her lips and she swallowed it at once.

Ugh she said, contorting her face in exaggeration. That medicine may be an example of the cure being worse than the disease. She managed a smile, which made Karl feel better as well. Within a minute, she was breathing normally, and she seemed to have relaxed quite a bit.

Karl went over to her and said, Maybe you should just try to rest, get some sleep.

She looked at him, simply nodded and closed her eyes.

One of the neighbors stopped by a little later, bringing stew and biscuits, enough to last them several meals. The woman checked on Marta, who was still asleep and resting comfortably. She reminded Karl that the doctor would be over the next morning, but if he needed anything before then to just come over and get her. Karl thanked her for the food and went outside to chop more wood and bring it inside for the evening’s use.

When Karl came back in to get their supper ready, Marta was still asleep, but she was again struggling. Her breathing was labored, and she was warm to his touch. Karl hadn’t been around sickness before, but he sensed that something was terribly wrong. He ran outside to get the neighbor woman. When they both returned, the neighbor looked at Marta and immediately said to Karl, You need to get the doctor, right now.

As Karl left, he could see her putting wet compresses on her forehead, stroking the hair out of her eyes, and speaking softly to her that she was going to be alright.

When Karl and the doctor returned, he immediately went to Marta. She was fully awake but in obvious pain. He felt her head, saying, Now Marta, let’s see what we can do to help you feel better. He asked Karl for the medicine he had given him and gave Marta another spoonful. As before, within a minute, Marta’s breathing had calmed down and she settled into a semi-sleep.

He turned and said to Karl, She has a fever. I fear her blood may be poisoned by the wound. I am going to have to unbandage her leg to look.

The doctor asked Karl to boil water and get clean cloth in preparation to change the dressing. Checking to see that Marta was still asleep, he called the neighbor woman over to him and said, I need you to hold her body firmly. When I undo her bandages, it will cause pain and I don’t want her struggling or moving her leg.

The woman took hold of Marta’s shoulders as Karl brought over the hot water and cloths. The doctor slowly and gently unwrapped the bandage around her leg. Karl stood behind him watching intently. Marta stiffened a couple of times, but she remained asleep, and the neighbor’s firm hold kept her leg still. As he unwrapped the last of it, the bandage was soaked with a dark, red-colored liquid, and a foul smell emanated from the leg. When the bandage was off, Karl could see a thick, red and green liquid was oozing from the site where the leg had been stitched. The skin around the wound was swollen and almost completely black.

The doctor cursed under his breath and said, The skin around the wound is being killed by the bad blood. He took some bottles out of his medical bag. Karl thought they looked like the herbs his grandmother used for cooking. The doctor stirred the ingredients together in a bowl, added some liquid from another bottle in his bag, then mixed it all together to make a paste. He then took the cloth from Karl and soaked it in the hot water. He wrung out the cloth, spread the paste concoction over the wound, then gently laid the wet cloth over the leg, creating a poultice. Finally, he took a clean, dry dressing from his bag and wrapped it loosely around the poultice.

When he was done, he looked at Marta and shook his head.

Karl, looking dismayed, with his eyes locked on his grandmother, asked the doctor, Is she going to be alright?

Turning to Karl and the neighbor the doctor replied said, My hope is that the poultice will draw out the bad blood, or at least keep it from spreading. Karl did not think he sounded very confident. Keep putting cold wash cloths on her forehead to try to keep the fever down. If she awakens, give her another spoonful of the medicine I gave you Karl.

The doctor packed up all his bottles and said to Karl, I’ve done all I can do tonight. I will stop by in the morning to see how she is doing. Try to get some sleep tonight yourself. He patted Karl on the head, tipped his hat to the neighbor and left. The neighbor cleaned up the soiled bandages and other items on the floor. She got another cloth, soaked it in cold water and put it on Marta’s forehead. Karl thanked her before she left.

Karl sat next to his grandmother and took her hand. It felt very warm, but he did not let go. He laid next to her in her bed staring at the ceiling. He was not sure how to pray, so he just said the words that people in the church would say when they bowed their heads. He hoped God would understand what he was saying. When he finished, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, his hand still clutching his Oma’s.

Marta had a fitful night of sleep. Karl could hear her moaning throughout the night and trying to reposition herself to get more comfortable. He would doze off from time to time but did not get a good night’s sleep. He got up a couple of times to replace the cold compresses on her face, which was very warm to his touch. He eventually went to sit in a chair by the bed and was able to fall asleep.

When he awoke, he could see the sun just beginning to come up. He put some fresh wood in the stove and started to make another pot of tea. He was very hungry, so he ate the remaining stew from the prior evening along with another biscuit. Marta was starting to stir in her bed, her hands clutching the blanket covering her, a sign she was in pain.

When the tea was done, he brought a cup over to her and said softly, Oma, I made some tea for you. You should have something to drink.

She opened her eyes and forced a smile. Thank you, Karl. That would be wonderful. She took the teacup from Karl and took a long sip. She winced as a twinge of pain radiated down her leg and spilled some of the tea on her nightshirt. Karl got the bottle of medicine and was about to give ger another spoonful when there was a sharp knock on the door. Karl got up and opened the door to see the doctor with a woman he had never seen before.

The doctor said Good morning, Karl. How is your grandmother this morning?

She seems about the same as yesterday. I was about to give her some of that medicine for the pain, Karl replied, looking at the doctor’s companion with a quizzical expression.

The doctor, noting Karl’s expression said, This is my nurse, Karin. I brought her along today to help you with your grandmother. The nurse just looked at Karl and gave him a slight nod.

Karl started to go to Marta with the medicine when the doctor said, Why don’t you wait with that until I have had a chance to examine her.

Karl stopped and stepped aside to make room for the doctor and his nurse to pass and go to either side of Marta’s bed. Marta looked at the doctor and said, Well, Herr Doctor, this must be serious if you have come by again so soon. She tried to let out a laugh, but it was choked away by another wave of pain.

The doctor felt her head and put his ear to Marta’s chest to listen to her heartbeat. The nurse got a wet cloth and wiped the sweat off Marta’s face and held it against her forehead while the doctor proceeded to unwrap the bandage and poultice, he had applied the day before.

The foul smell filled the air when the wound was uncovered. The blackness on Marta’s leg had spread upward to her knee and down to her ankle. The wound was swollen, as was most of her leg, with red discharge leaking from the stitches. The nurse got a clean cloth, soaked it in the pot of hot water, wrang it out, and brought it to the doctor. He gently used the cloth to wipe the area around the wound. As quickly as he wiped away the discharge, more would start oozing from the wound.

The doctor sat quietly for a moment then looked at his nurse. He subtly nodded his head, and she replied with a quick nod and brought the doctor’s bag to him. She then left the house. He took another few moments then said, Marta and Karl. I want you to listen to me very carefully. He let his words hang in the air for a moment to be sure they were both listening.

Marta, your wound is badly infected. You have a fever and the area around your wound is turning black. It is dying. The infection is in your blood now and spreading to the rest of your body. I applied a poultice yesterday to try to stop the spread, but it did not help. He took in a deep breath then continued. I must amputate your leg to save your life. Even then, it may not be enough, but it is your only chance. He let his words sink in for a moment, looking at Marta, then Karl, to gauge a reaction.

Marta held her hand out for Karl. He quickly moved to her and grasped her hand, tears now rolling down his face. Marta mustered up all her strength and said, Karl, my boy, whatever happens you know how much I love you and how much your mother loved you. She squeezed his hand and Karl gave her a big hug.

The doctor looked at Karl and said, Boy, you need to go outside now.

Karl shook his head and said, No, I want to stay here with Oma.

Marta, with all her strength, sat up in the bed and looked at Karl saying, Karl, please do as the doctor says.

Karl started to protest again, but Marta’s look, the look she had given him numerous times over the years to indicate this was the end of the discussion, stopped his words. He turned and ran out the door.

The doctor looked at Marta and said, Are you ready Marta? I’m going to give you a couple spoonful of this medicine to help with the pain, but I’m afraid it is still going to hurt a great deal. She nodded and the doctor gave her the medicine.

The nurse came back into the house with the neighbor women who had stopped over the day before. The doctor instructed the nurse to hold Marta’s arms down and the neighbor to hold Marta’s uninjured leg down. The doctor took out a piece of round wood from his bag and told Marta to put it between her teeth, bite down hard, and close her eyes. He then took out a bone saw from his bag.

Karl did not wait outside the door. He went for a walk, trying to push the vision of what he knew was happening to his Oma out of his head. He imagined what it would be like for Oma to have only one leg. He thought about how to arrange the house so she would be able to get around in a wheelchair. He had seen men in the village who had lost a leg in war using crutches and wondered if Oma would be able to use them. He tried to think about many things to keep his mind occupied and away from the house.

When he returned home, the doctor was washing his hands and arms in a bowl of water. The water was a tinged with red and the doctor’s smock was splotched with blood. The nurse was finishing covering Marta with a blanket to keep her warm. Marta was asleep. Karl’s eye wandered from Marta’s head down her body. He could not help but look at where her left leg was supposed to be. The blanket lay flat where her left leg used to be. He looked away quickly, as if wanting to prevent getting caught for doing something wrong.

The doctor walked over and said to Karl, She is sleeping now. I gave her enough of that pain medicine to keep her asleep for many hours, hopefully through the night.

He lifted Karl’s head up with his hand so Karl would look him in the eye. Karl, he paused to carefully gather his next words, I did what I could, but I fear the infection has already spread to the rest of her body. Karl’s eyes started to tear. The doctor continued, When she awakens, there will be occasions in which she will be very aware of her surroundings, but other times when she may speak with words that make no sense. Talk to her, even if you don’t think she can hear you. Keep her comfortable; give her plenty of water and tea to drink. The next two days will be critical if she is to recover.

Karl’s lowered his head again and the Doctor bent down to look him in the eyes. I know this is very difficult. The neighbor woman will continue to come over and help you both. I will also send word to Nicolas in Stuttgart, so hopefully he will be here soon.

The doctor finished packing up his bag, then left with his nurse. Karl sat in a chair by Marta’s bed and was just watching her breathe. When the neighbor brought over more food for Karl and Marta and laid in on the kitchen table, Karl did not hear her. He looked at the picture of his mother and brought it over and laid it on the bed next to Marta’s arm. He got a washcloth, wet it with cold water, wiped her face gently, and laid the cloth on her forehead.

He looked outside and saw the sun was getting low in the sky. Although he had not eaten anything all day, he was not hungry. He went outside to bring in more wood for the fire and told himself he needed to chop more wood in the morning. As he looked around the village, people were walking about and talking, some laughing, and children were playing games in the street. Karl wondered how everything could look normal, like any other day.

He brought the wood into the house, put some in the stove, and stacked the rest nearby. Thankfully, Marta was still asleep. He ate a few bites of food, then went outside with a bucket to get water from the well. He poured some of the water into a pitcher for drinking and the rest into a wash basin. He felt exhausted, even though he had done little physical labor today. After checking on Marta one more time, he lay down on his bed and drifted to sleep.

Karl awoke to the sound of ringing bells, momentarily disoriented. Then he realized they were the church bells – it was Sunday morning. On every other Sunday morning, Karl and his Oma would be getting ready for mass. They would get dressed in their best clothes, have some tea and eggs, and maybe bacon, for breakfast, then walk the fifteen minutes to the Catholic church. Along the way they usually met others going to church, talking about the week’s events along the way. The priest would greet them on the church steps as they went inside. They would sit in their usual seats, third row from the back on the left side of the single aisle running the length of the church. Mass would begin and the service would run like clockwork, ending exactly ninety minutes after it began. After the service, the parishioners would gather outside and chat some more. The children would go off and play by themselves in the courtyard next to the church. It was a leisurely time, with no need to hurry home, as no work would be done on Sunday. Around lunchtime, people would start on their way home. The church service itself did not interest Karl. While it appeared that people were going through a useless ritual, he did find some comfort in the routine of the day.

This morning, he and Marta would not be going to church. He was surprised that he missed it. He got out of bed and stepped outside, watching people coming out of their homes and making their way to church. He went to Marta’s bed and saw she was still asleep. He added wood to the stove and started to make some tea. He was hungry, so he ate some of the food the neighbor had brought.

Marta stirred throughout the morning but never fully woke up. He routinely washed her face and head with fresh water, but she continued to feel very warm to his touch. At one point during the morning, he thought he heard her speaking. When he went over to her, she was mumbling incoherently. He sat next to her, holding her hand.

His mind was flooded with memories of Oma. He remembered her telling him bedtime stories of his mother Elizabeth, and always ending with a prayer to God to keep Karl safe, and that Marta was looking forward to seeing Elizabeth, as well as her husband Karl, and son, Andreas, soon in heaven.

The hours wore on, with no changes to Marta’s condition. At one point, she did wake up and spoke to Karl. She told him that things would be all right, God would take care of him. She asked if Nicolas was here, and Karl told her that the doctor had sent for him. She said, I hope he gets here soon. She closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep.

A little while later the doctor came by to look in on her. He changed her bandage and checked her temperature and her breathing. He looked sadly at Karl and said, It won’t be long now, boy. You should say your goodbyes to her if she wakes up again.

The reality of what was happening suddenly hit Karl. His Oma was going to die and there was not a thing anyone could do to stop it.

"Just like my mother, he thought. How can this be happening…again? How can God let this be happening to such a wonderful woman as his Oma?"

There was a knock at the door and Karl went to answer it. Nicolas was there, looking tired and grim. He gave Karl a hug, came into the house, and went to his mother’s bed. He looked at her, then at the doctor. The doctor took him aside and explained what had transpired over the last three days. Although Karl could not hear them, he knew what the doctor was telling Nicholas. Nicolas listened intently, then spoke to the doctor. The doctor responded with a shake of his head.

The doctor said to the Karl and Nicolas, I have to see another person here in town then I will come back before I leave for home.

Nicolas thanked the doctor, turned to Karl, and said, I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner. I could not get away from work. As he said it, he knew it sounded like a poor excuse, but he had not learned of Marta’s accident until yesterday and the person who gave him the message did not convey how critical her condition was.

Nicolas and Karl talked for a while. Nicolas shared stories about his sons, Philip, six, and Thomas, four years old. He talked about his job and how life was in the big city of Stuttgart. Karl was half-listening, still struggling with what seemed like a bad dream. He began to wonder what was going to come of him. Would he live here by himself? Who would take him in?

Marta was awake again and calling for Karl. He and Nicolas went over to her and when she saw Nicolas, she gave a big smile. Nicolas, you’re here.

Yes Mama, I’m here. The doctor says you’re going to be fine.

She looked at him with the look he remembered he got when she caught him in a lie. Come here Nicolas, I want to talk with you.

He sat next to her. She pulled him close to her and spoke quietly in his ear. She spoke so softly that Karl could not hear what she was saying. When she was done, Nicolas sat up and looked at her without comment. Marta then said to him, I want your promise. She gripped his arm tightly until Nicolas nodded.

There was another knock on the door. It was the priest from their church, Father Michael. Someone must have told him that Marta’s condition was grave and he needed to come as quickly as possible.

He hurried over to Marta and knelt by her side. With one hand he held her hand as he performed the last rites. He ended with the sign of the cross above her body. The entire ritual took only a minute, but brought her great comfort.

When the priest had finished, Marta gestured for Karl and Nicholas to come back to her side. They each took one of her hands. She squeezed their hands for a moment and smiled. She whispered a few words, but Karl and Nicolas could not understand what she was saying. Her breathing slowed for a few moments, then stopped.

Women from the village arrived at her home within minutes of her passing. They were dressed in black and spoke very little. They first washed Marta then dressed her in her best Sunday clothes. They cleaned her bedroom, made her bed, and laid Marta on top of her bedspread. Candles were lit around the room and the pictures of her husband Karl, and children Elizabeth, Nicolas and Andreas were scattered around her bedroom. The priest remained in the house to comfort and console Karl and Nicolas.

One of the women stayed in the home overnight and made sure Karl and Nicolas had food to eat. The next morning, people from all over town, many of whom Karl had never met before, started coming to the house. They all brought food, and the women wearing black greeted them and accepted the food. Each offering was placed in the kitchen and dining area and before too long the entire house was full of platters of meats, cheeses, bread and various baked goods. People would come in the house, go into the bedroom where Marta lay, pay their respects, then come into the main area of the house to eat and talk with others.

Karl sat in a chair close to the bedroom and observed all this with great interest. "This is certainly a peculiar ritual, he thought to himself. Someone dies and people bring you food, as if that would somehow make the hurt and sorrow disappear."

People would come up to him and express their condolences, saying what a shame it was that Marta had passed from a mere slip on the ice. Nicolas and his family were also there, occupying a corner of the home. His wife, Petra, and their two sons, sat quietly while Nicolas greeted and talked with the visitors. From time to time, Karl would see Nicolas speaking with someone, then they would both look at Karl.

Visitors continued to arrive throughout the day and into the evening. Some people stayed only a few minutes, while others stayed for several hours, eating, drinking and talking. The conversations were not always somber. People were smiling at each other, even laughing. Karl did not understand how people could be so jovial at a time like this.

When everyone had finally gone, save one of the women in black, Karl went into Marta’s bedroom one more time. She looked so peaceful. He looked around the room at the pictures, then went to Marta’s bedside, leaned over, and gave her a kiss on the forehead. He left and went to bed in his room. He stayed awake for some time, thinking about the day’s events and what his own future held for him.

No one had spoken to him about what was to become of him. Judging by how many times people looked at him and shook their heads, he was certain that his situation was discussed among the people who had come by the house. Nicolas was his uncle, his only living relative, and he had not said anything to Karl about his future. He had heard stories about children his age, with no one to live with, put into orphanages, or becoming indentured servants, or even worse, be homeless to live on the streets as beggars. His mind was still reeling with these images when he eventually drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, he was awakened by loud footsteps and the moving of furniture. He got out of bed and saw several men bringing a casket into the house and taking it into Marta’s bedroom. He watched quietly from his door as they lifted Marta from her bed into the casket, put on the top and nailed it down. When they left, he went up to the woman who had stayed the night and asked her, What is going to happen now?

The woman answered flatly, She is being taken to church where there will be a funeral mass later this morning. After that, she will be taken to the churchyard for burial. You need to get up and get dressed. Put on your Sunday clothes. Karl did as he was instructed. Nothing more was said by the woman and Karl asked no more questions.

A little later, Nicolas and his family came to the house. They had spent the night at the village inn and were dressed to go to the church. Nicolas came over to Karl and kindly asked, How are you holding up Karl? Karl was surprised at Nicolas’s questions, since he had not spoken a word to him yesterday during the wake.

I am fine, replied Karl, not knowing what else to say.

Nicolas motioned for Karl to sit down with him at the table. Nicolas nodded to Petra who promptly took the boys outside. Nicolas said to Karl, I cannot imagine how difficult this has been for you Karl. Losing you mother, and now your Oma. I am sorry I did not talk with you yesterday. The day just went by so fast, please forgive me.

Karl looked at him silently.

Nicolas continued, I am sure you have been wondering what is to become of you.

Karl haltingly replied, Yes, I don’t have anyone anymore. What am I going to do, where am I going to go? Tears began to form in his eyes and his lips began to quiver. What is going to happen to me?

Nicolas looked at him caringly. He took Karl by the hand and stroked his hair. You are going to come live with us in Stuttgart. That will be your new home.

Karl looked up at him, as this news caught him by total surprise. His face brightened and he said excitedly, Really, you mean it Uncle Nicolas?

Yes Karl, Mama and I talked about it before she passed. It’s what she wanted. After a slight pause, Nicolas added, And it’s what Petra and I want. The boys are looking forward to having a big brother.

The church was filled to overflowing, a testament to Marta’s impact on the small village. Karl sat quietly through the service and the priest’s lengthy eulogy. His mind was racing with thoughts about the loss of his Oma, but also what lay ahead for him. He had never been to Nicolas’s home in Stuttgart and had no idea what to expect. He had heard people talk about Stuttgart, being a large city, at least compared to the village where he lived. He was anxious and excited at the same time.

He also remembered his Oma saying that his father had gone to Stuttgart to look for a job but was not heard from again. He wondered if this was a chance to find his father. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?

When the mass ended, the priest proceeded down the aisle of the church, followed by the pallbearers carrying Marta’s casket, then the rest of the mourners. They walked the short distance around to the back of the church to the cemetery. The pallbearers lowered the casket into the freshly dug grave. The priest said some final words, much the same as he had preached during the mass. After his final amen, Nicolas and his family walked up to the grave and threw a handful of dirt on top of the casket. When they had finished, Karl walked up to the grave’s edge and looked down. He said his final goodbye to his Oma and also dropped a handful of dirt. As he turned to leave, he saw three other graves with headstones next the Marta’s grave. They read ‘Karl Schmidt’, ‘Andreas Schmidt’ and ‘Elizabeth Schuler’.

After final condolences from everyone attending the funeral, Karl, along with Nicolas and his family, returned to Marta’s cottage. Karl packed up his clothes and other belongings and put them in his rucksack. He walked through the house one more time before leaving. He saw the picture of his mother on the mantle and stuck it in his pack.

Nicolas had borrowed a wagon for the trip home to Stuttgart. The cottage and all the furnishings belonged to Marta, so Nicolas picked out a few items to take home with them. When they were finished loading the wagon, Nicolas and Petra sat in the front and the boys sat in the back along with their cargo. Nicolas had made arrangements with one of the village elders for the sale of the cottage and the remainder of its furnishings. Nicolas would come back to get the proceeds of the sales when they were completed. As the wagon pulled away from the cottage, Karl took one final look back, tears forming in his eyes.

GettyImages899169038.jpg

2

Fall 1774

Eastern Bavaria

T he Mueller family lived in the town of Kelheim, in the eastern part of Bavaria, Germany, part of the Holy Roman Empire. Gunther rented three acres of land from a local nobleman and as was the law of the time, tenants would farm the land and pay their rent by turning over to the landlord a portion of the crops they harvested. That amount was usually a fixed amount of a crop, for example, one hundred bushels of corn or 40 bushels of wheat. Anything more than the required payment to the nobleman could be kept or sold by the tenant. If, one year, there was a bad crop due to drought, disease, or another calamity, the tenant would still be obligated to pay the landlord their portion first. The tenant kept whatever was left over. The usual result was the tenant farmer able to keep a small percentage of the crop, sometimes only enough to feed his own family. It was a system that greatly favored the nobility and denied the peasant farmer any control or influence to negotiate the terms of their rent. It was common for the tenant farmer to accumulate a debt to the nobleman, which would just compound year after year, making it almost impossible for him and his family to escape the downward spiral of indebtedness.

Gunther, however, was a carpenter, a furniture maker, and he had a workshop in a small building on the land. He was a skilled craftsman, and his work was well known throughout the region. He had an agreement with his landlord that his rent would be paid by providing a number of tables, chairs, and other furnishings to the landlord. The landlord either kept the furniture for himself or sold it to others at a great profit. This was an arrangement that worked well for both Gunther and his landlord. Making furniture was