Date:         Mon, 9 Jun 1997 23:56:11 -0500
From: Harald Schenk <hschenk@EXCEL.NET>
Subject:      Fill: Bio (Part 1)

Greetings:

   For my bio, I decided to give you some excerpts from one of my class
papers. The original ran for over ten pages. Our assignment was to analyze a
military battle from history based on the ten principles of war. We were
then to describe the outcome based on either side having access to modern
space assets. I have limited the narrative to my personnal experience, and
will add a few items in part 2 to bring us to the present.

                    The Battle for Berlin

   My family and I lived in the Berlin suburb of Koepenick. Our neighborhood
consisted of rows upon rows of apartment buildings. These were topped by
tile roofs which became dangerous projectiles during the bombings. Our
apartment was on the top floor of a five story building. On the roof,
immediately above our heads, someone had installed an air-raid siren. During
the early days of Allied bombing, apartment residents would gather on the
roof, and watch the bombers pass overhead.
   As the war dragged on, the Allies started to concentrate on the outskirts
of the city. Whenever the siren started to wail, the residents would make
their way down the stairs and into the basement. Here, they would wait for
the all-clear, and then begin the long trek back up the stairs. Toward the
end of the conflict, the residents of the building simply kept all of their
valuable possessions pre-packed. When the siren started, it became easier to
move to a place of safety.
   I lived alone with my Grandmother, and with my Mother. My Father was
stationed in Finland, so I was the only male member of the household. Before
my Father left, he had given my Mother a pearl necklace. It was one of the
few items with which she could remember him. It was to play an important
part in the days ahead.

   On the day of the final air-raid, the suitcases were once again carried
down the long flight of stairs. The basement area always reminded me of old
catacombs, and it smelled accordingly. Small wire enclosures divided an area
for each family, and this is where the residents huddled. The last Western
air-raid on Berlin, the 363rd of the war, was delivered at 9:25 a.m. by
elements of the U.S. Eighth Air Force. For forty-four months the Americans
and British had pounded "Big B".
   My Uncle Willy lived on the ground floor. For this reason, be became the
unofficial spokesperson for the group of females, old males, and children.
He observed the events on the ground level, and reported back to the people
below as to what was taking place. Among these was the observation that some
type of shell had entered our room above the kitchen, but had failed to
explode. I can still remember looking through that hole at a later date, and
seeing the clear sky overhead. In the courtyard behind our building, a
phosphor device had landed on the bed of a neighbor. It had also failed to
explode, but there was an eerie glow coming through their window.
   Everyone was eager for the all-clear, but this was not to come. The
Soviets had entered our part of the city, and were engaged in heavy
house-to-house fighting. The soldiers could smell victory, and this was a
time for revenge. The search was on for German soldiers. At each stop,
residents were ordered out of their basements. If the Red Army suspected
that a soldier might be hiding inside, then a grenade was tossed down the
stairs. Before the end of the fighting, more than one body would be seen
hanging from a lamppost.
   After the soldiers reached our building, and told the people to come out,
everyone was ordered to line-up against the nearest wall. Within moments,
one of the Russian soldiers traveled down the line with a sack held open.
"Uri, uri", he repeated. It was his way of demanding valuables. Uhr is the
German word for watch.
   As he approached us, my Mother hung the pearl necklace around my neck.
She had been told that Soviet soldiers were suckers for little blond-haired
boys with blue eyes, and she was not about to let anyone take it. When the
soldier saw the necklace, he tore it from my neck. With the help of a pinch
in the behind by my Mother, I let him know that I was less than pleased.
   The commotion brought the attention of one of the officers. He inquired
in broken German why I was crying. After the reason was given, he forced the
soldier, at gunpoint, to return the necklace. I was also given a package of
delicious cookies. The officer told my Mother that he was doing this so that
she wouldn't think all Russians were bad. He also warned her about the
troops to come. It would become known as "The Rape of Berlin".

                to be continued - part 2

                                                      -Harald Schenk
                                                       Sheboygan, WI