From Country To Country
by
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EXCERPTS (continued) :
The Allies Are Closing In
Then late one evening artillery shells started falling on Stadtilm. We figured that the Americans must be approaching Stadtilm. The closest rudimentary bomb shelter was in a building on the west side of the Stadtilm market square, which is the largest in the province of Thuringia. During a lull in the shelling, we headed for it. Inside we joined dozens of people crammed like sardines who opted to go to this shelter rather than stay at home. Soon after we got there the shelling started again. We could hear the “boom” of the shots being fired, then the incoming shells’ whistling as they raced to a target unknown to us, and then the explosion. It was terrible. My father and mother and we kids huddled down, suspecting that the shelter could not likely withstand a direct hit from an artillery shell. Shelling continued for what seemed to me like hours. We heard a rumour that the local military commander was not going to give up without a big fight. In Weiler it had been the possibility of a stray bomb killing us; here it was shells from guns. And continuously the shells spewed out of the mouths of the guns. In the early morning, the barrage subsided. At about ten a.m., my father ventured out on the street. To my surprise, he motioned to me and said:
(Latvian): "Iesim apskatīt kas notiek." [“Let's go and see what's happening.”]
We did. We looked around. My father and I headed northwest towards “Straße der Einheit” Street and turned left to start walking southwestward on that street for a few meters. And there they were. A formation of tanks appearing in the distance. Americans. And then my father did the unexpected. As the tanks got closer he approached one of them and waved to the tank commander. I wish I could remember the surprised look on the commander's when my father climbed right up on the tank, lifting me up as well. I was not scared. In Weiler the Americans were our enemies, but now suddenly they were our friends. Things change. Surprisingly the tank commander asked my father whether it was safe to enter the town. My father said "yes". How did he know, anyway - there could have been a machine gun nest around the corner. And it's surprising the commander seemed to trust my father. Perhaps he noticed that my father did not appear to have any hidden hand grenades on him. …………………
Theft of Electricity
In the winter of 1945-46, it got quite cold in that large room we had in the refugee camp with other families. One day my father had a twinkle in his eye. Up to his old tricks? Yes, read on. He went to downtown Wiesbaden and came back with a bag with many metal coils inside. That night he was up all night doing something. By the next afternoon, people in the room were wondering why it was suddenly so pleasantly warm. Then a neighbour of ours noticed a string of coils hanging on a horizontal rope. That was just some electrical stuff from a project he worked in Berlin my father told him. No way. During the night my father had connected all the coils together to make one giant electrical heater. It was stealing electricity for a good cause, one might argue. Not for growing marijuana. Fortunately those coils never caught the attention of inspectors who came around. Eventually everyone in the room found out. They were grateful but were also sworn to silence by my dad………
Mischief
Now a story about me. While working at the subsidiary of B.C. Telephone Co. splicing wires I heard one of the summer students say to another:
"I need to buy a safe today, but I am 'chicken'".
By “safe” he did not mean a box where to keep valuable papers - he meant one of these things that men slide on a part of their body that looks like a wiener, so girls don't get babies, after meeting with girls. I like a brave soul, said:
“I will go and buy it for you. What do I ask for ?”
“Say that you want a package of Ramses,” was his answer.
So off I went to the closest drug store. Blushingly I asked for the goods. This gave me a boost of confidence even though these things were not for my use. You know what: I would not have known how to use them. Can you imagine someone going to a druggist and asking:
“Please show me how to use a condom.” ………………………
Overpowered by a Goose
One day at work one of the researchers downstairs called me. He needed my help to hold a goose still while an experimental operation was done on her neck. A slit was cut into her neck. Out protruded blood vessels and red flesh. I could feel myself faint, but was “out” so quickly that I did not feel myself fall. Next thing I knew I was lying outside on a bench. My fellow workers had carried me there. Right then I knew I could never have gone in the footsteps of my grandfather and uncle, both doctors. Just a small goose “did me in” ! ......................
“Heil Hitler” in Toronto ?
Soon after we students arrived in Toronto, we noticed more than once people crossing the street with their arms raised high. We wondered why. It reminded me of my school days in Weiler when we were taught to say “Heil Hitler”. So what was going on here in Toronto - a revival of the Nazi Party? Well no. We found out that people raised their arms so cars would notice them easier and not run over them. We had not seen this in other places in Canada…………
High School Days in Latvia under Russia
There was a lot of discipline in school. Not much was tolerated before severe punishment was administered. As far as course work was concerned, there was disproportionate emphasis on memorizing facts and figures, as opposed to logical thinking. This made it very difficult to pass some courses, especially the ones requiring memory. As a result, in order to pass, cheating was common. So called "cheat cards" were used. At that particular school, as told to me by my father Arturs, a dramatic cheating incident occurred. The son of a rich German baron, who was in his last year of high school but had failed his previous school year due to the difficult subject matter, appeared one day with a bandage around his head, covering both his ears and the sides of his neck. My father Arturs asked him:
"What kind of accident did you have?"
"A large rotten branch in the yard of our house snapped off and fell on my head."
Arturs, analyzing things even at his young age, thought it strange that the bandage should extend down the boy's neck. A few days later the boy in question had to write an important exam. Everyone in his class expected him to fail, based on previous experience, but mysteriously he passed. Not only did he pass that test, but also every test until graduation time. Only after the boy received his graduation diploma, did the truth emerge.
What had happened was incredible for everyone in the school to believe. The boy's father, a rich German baron, badly wanted his son to graduate, so he did the following: He bribed the janitor in the school to make available a room in the basement for "a special project". Then he got a shoemaker to install metal plates on the soles of both the boy's shoes. Upstairs, the janitor was asked to drive two nails with wide heads into the floor at the spot where the boy normally sat in class. The baron somehow was able to get a copy of each exam beforehand. This would be handed to a "tutor" who sat in the room below. On the day of the exam, a set of earphones was installed underneath the boy's bandage and two wires run down his neck, underneath his clothing, and connected to the metal on his soles. In the room below, with wires running from the nails in the floor to a microphone, the conspiracy was complete. The tutor below would read out the correct answers to each of the test questions into the microphone, to be transmitted into the boy's earphones………
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About the Book
In From Country to Country Peter Buttuls relates the story of his multicultural family in three countries: Latvia, Germany, and Canada. He begins with his grandfather, a doctor, and his professional achievements in Latvia, while living under the strict Czar regime of Russia. The author then relates the stories of adventure, mischief, and fun his father and family experienced. That all came to an end when the Soviet Union took control of Latvia in 1940. After living in its accustomed upper class lifestyle, the Buttuls family then lived "underground" for six months for fear of being deported to Siberia. Their escape to Nazi Germany is described, with the difficult life there.
From then on the book becomes the author's memoirs of his life's happy and unhappy experiences, including that with the opposite sex. Life in a village and small town in Germany during the Second World War is described, with experiences of mischief and fun times as the bombs fell. The equally difficult times after the war are related, when the family lived in a bathroom for several months. Finally they had a chance to start a new life in Canada. The challenging time during the first five years in a hamlet with a population of twenty are told, as Buttuls and his family learned another language and had to adjust to the different culture and lifestyle in their adopted country. The family's move to Vancouver meant going to the largest high school in Canada from education by correspondence. Despite living in semi-poverty in Vancouver, where the four boys in the family slept in a small room in bunk beds, the author was able to achieve two university degrees. He intertwines history and politics with the events described.
To make the story more interesting, the author works in some of the basics of computing, weather, mountaineering, and other topics.
EXCERPTS :
I Could have been Killed
I walked past the edge of town towards some woods. Instead of turning left and walking along the highway, I decided to explore the woods straight ahead. I had not looked back to see that there was someone behind me. I took a few steps onto a path that led into the woods. Suddenly there was a shout:
„Du, pass mal auf, gehe da nicht, der Wald ist voll mit Tellerminen."
It was a man behind me who had shouted. I ran towards him, shaking. At the time I guessed what he had warned me about. The part “Minen” in Tellerminen in the warning by the man above gave it away. There must have been a mine in the woods waiting for its victim, waiting to rip of his or her arms and legs. If you break apart the German word Tellerminen you get Teller which means “plate” and Mine which means “mine”. I had almost stepped on a mine which would have exploded and killed me! The Germans must have mined the woods I was about to enter so that any American tanks going through them would be blown up. The man behind me had saved my life. I quickly walked home. Grateful to be alive. ………
An Anxious Wait
"Why has the train stopped?" my father nervously asked a trainman.
""The problem is that from here on they use a different width of rails than in Russia,".
the trainman answered.
Oh yes, we encountered that problem in 1994 when my brother Bill and I took the train to Latvia from Germany. On the way there we had to change trains at the Poland-Lithuania border; on the way back the wheels were changed on railway cars instead, at the Poland-Belarus border. My father became frantic. What if the Russian secret police discovered that we had escaped and had telegraphed ahead to apprehend us? We could be arrested anytime, so he thought................. We had been lucky to have made it on the train in Riga without being caught. And now we were not moving,
due to the smallest detail – difference in width of rails ………
Scary Moments
......................Although we were told that Weiler was not a target, one day the bombardment on the surrounding towns was especially heavy, and the sound of exploding bombs reached louder than ever into the cellar. Likely, stray bombs had gotten closer than before. I stared at the curved ceiling made of stones joined together with some kind of a cementing agent. I had no faith that the ceiling would not collapse on me. I held my hands on my head. I expected that after the sound of each falling bomb the stones would collapse on me. But they held. Thanks to the stone mason who built the ceiling about 200 years ago.
..............I was on the opposite side of the street from the house we lived in when an Allied fighter plane swooped down at treetop level. And then it happened. Shots rang out. I reacted instinctively. I let myself fall to the ground. When I got up I saw holes above me in the neighhbour's high stone wall I mentioned above. I doubt that the pilot shot at me deliberately - it was just target practice.
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About the Author
Peter Buttuls was born in Riga, Latvia, in 1937 in a multicultural family with upper class background that spoke German, Latvian, and Russian at home. His grandfather had done much for the country in the areas of education, journalism, politics, and medicine. Because Peter's father had fought in the student army defending his beloved Latvia, his family, after living underground for six months, was forced to flee Latvia in 1941 when Russia took control of that country. They chose to take refuge in Nazi Germany because Peter's mother was of German descent. In Berlin the family lost all their possessions and one life in an air raid. In 1951 the family had an opportunity to immigrate to Canada and start a new life there. After five years as settlers in a tiny hamlet in British Columbia, the family moved to Vancouver, where Peter attended the largest high school in Canada and later received his B.Sc. (Physics) at UBC in 1964. Three years later he obtained his M.Sc. at the University of Toronto, specializing in Meteorology. After only four months in that field, Peter moved to Edmonton, where he worked as a programmer-analyst for twenty-eight years before retiring to Victoria in 1995. In Edmonton he married Ena Wheelock, whose father had a very successful career with the Canadian Bible Society.