Soldiers, Graves and Headstones
excerpted from Invisible Scars
The Lubeck Memorial Cemetery (Der Ehrenfriehof) is
located on the outskirts of the Hanseatic city of Lubeck,
Tavemunde Allee, on the road that leads to the Baltic Resort of
Tavemunde. It occupies five acres of gently sloping wooded hills
and was designed in 1914 by Architect Harry Maanz, a master in
the art of gardening. Buried in this poignant and beautiful
setting are soldiers, civilians, sailors, aviators, and
distinguished citizens who were killed during the period between
1914 and 1945, a time when Germany fought two world wars. In
1947, two more Germans, members of Lubeck's choral group were
interned when killed during an Allied bombing in 1942, which
caused considerable damage resulting in hundreds of casualties.
Most of those buried in this cemetery are German soldiers from
the Lubeck and Hamburg area. There have been no more burials
since 1947. The grounds are maintained by both cities, and
eternal care has been pledged by law. Like the Arlington National
Cemetery in the United States, the right to be buried there has
no barriers as to rank or wealth.
I have been visiting the area for the past ten years with my wife
Karin, who grew up in the city, and was born in German occupied
Danzig. We generally visit her family, but have done considerable
sightseeing in the area and throughout southern Germany.
My first visit to the cemetery was in 1997, and I was
overwhelmed. I was very impressed by what I at first thought was
a park in the midst of the suburbs of Lubeck. I entered from the
west corner on Travemunde Allee and saw beautiful trees, tall and
majestic, with flower gardens and flowering shrubs delineating
the trails. As I walked farther into the grounds, I came to a
four meter statue of a soldier on a two meter pedestal. It was
awesome!
The soldier had his head bowed, and was holding his steel helmet
against his chest with both hands. This Soldier in
Prayer stands over the burial site of soldiers from both
Lubeck and Hamburg who were killed in action, in both world wars.
On this first visit, I stood reverently at attention and saluted,
one soldier to another, then bowed my head in prayer. Before
moving on, I saluted once again. It was a very emotional moment.
I thought of my fellow soldiers who had been killed in the Korean
War. Once again, while departing, I stopped and turned to the
statue and said a prayer for them, a prayer for all soldiers,
from all nations. I thought of how fortunate I was to be standing
in front of this soldier statue and not interred myself ... of
course, I realize that someday I too will be laid to rest, and
hope it will be a place as impressive as this one.
I continued walking and passed several grave sites that were
marked with hand-carved crosses that formed a circle about a
statue of Mary and Child in the center. This area was
identified as the graves of the casualties from the mass bombing
in 1942. I counted more than a hundred and fifty crosses. War is
a terrible HELL!
I continued with my walk. I was careful to remain oriented, since
my wife did not accompany me on this first visit to the cemetery,
and I did not want to get lost. I came upon grave sites that were
marked with more familiar marble headstones. On each of them was
the soldier's name, rank, date of birth, the date and place when
killed in action. Moving deeper into the woods, I was surrounded
by enormous trees, chirping birds, fluttering butterflies, and a
variety of beautiful small flower gardens.
I spotted one particular grave with a marker in the shape of a
half moon, situated about two feet above the ground. This was a
natural stone marker with the name of Helmut von Pein chiseled on
the stone. Also, his date of birth, 24 October 1925, and killed
in action on the Russian front in 1943. He was not yet nineteen
years old when he died in combat. At that time, the Germans were
fighting desperate battles and retreating westward, back towards
Germany. Looking at the grave, I made up my mind that I would
make every effort to visit Helmut every time I visited Germany. I
also pledged to bring flowers and clean the area around the
grave, whenever needed. I have been doing this for the past
decade, and my wife often shares the visit with me.
My thoughts provoked me to action. I decided to leave the
cemetery and go to a nearby florist. I bought small flowering
plants which I took back to Helmut's grave. I planted them and
cleaned away the dry leaves that surrounded the grave. As I was
doing this, a lady and her friend, who were walking their dogs in
this park-like cemetery, stopped to ask me if I were related to
this soldier. I told her that I was not, and explained what my
purpose was. Frau Espina, who, with her husband Nico, own The
Little Greek restaurant that is next to our hotel, expressed
interest in my project. They also pledged to look after Helmut's
grave. This encounter has led to a ten year friendship ... which
I hope will always continue.
As we parted, I decided to leave through the east exit on
Travemunde Allee. In order to get there, I had to go through a
grave site formation that stood in a very densely wooded area. As
I walked, a strange feeling came over me. I felt that I was being
watched! I actually knew that I was being watched, and
every move I made was being observed, and I was becoming
uncomfortably concerned. I had known this feeling before, from my
past ... an acquired survival sense that had lain dormant since
the war. While on a combat patrol in enemy territory, I had
developed this feeling of instinctively knowing when I was not
welcome, when I was a vulnerable target. I expected to be
challenged, so I began to walk cautiously near the grave markers.
I did not stand a chance. There were too many of them. They were
going to capture me ... and I knew they would have killed me
without any problem. However, they did not move, they just
watched me.
The grave markers were large stones, some over six feet tall and
wide enough to resemble a man. Those headstones had suddenly
become soldiers. The sheltering trees had become looming
sentinels. I kept moving and waiting for the challenge. I even
remember looking to see if I were being followed. The soldiers
appeared calm but very serious, and with total concentration ...
focused on me! I increased my pace and reached the east exit.
Once I was out of the cemetery and looking back, back at the
ghostly park from Travemunde Allee .... I could no longer see any
soldiers. All I could see were overarching trees and a few mute
headstones poised as grave markers. I immediately realized the
import of this encounter and recognized its significance. At that
frozen moment, I knew that I would return.
I would return, not only to keep my promise to Helmut von Pein,
but to learn more about the soldiers in the cemetery. Perhaps, by
learning more about them, I could develop a friendship with them.
This was my first visit, and for the next eight years my punctual
visits occurred during the last week in May ... coinciding with
the celebration of Memorial Day in the United States. Even new
activities, by their repetition, form patterns, which tend to
make us more comfortable with ourselves and our surroundings ...
unless we try to remain alert and open in our surroundings. It's
the old soldier's routine of doing the same things in different
places while always being ready for the unexpected. By
my tenth visit to the Lubeck Memorial Cemetery, our routines had
been established, but it proved to be the most memorable ... at
least, so far.
As the years have gone by, it has become traditional for my wife
and I to annually visit her family and friends in Germany. I was
fortunate to always find time to visit the Lubeck cemetery. I had
shared my experiences at the cemetery with Karin, however, I
think she has been a little skeptical in accepting my account of
events. Nevertheless she has encouraged me to continue the
visitations, and has even accompanied me a few times. She has
always respected my feelings towards the soldiers buried there.
In time I learned the intimate details of those five acres, all
its paths and trails, gardens and trees, monuments and grave
sites. I am very content in having a minor role in looking after
Helmut von Pein's grave site, and in sharing this commitment with
Frau Espina. I must also add that I have not made any effort to
locate Helmut's survivors. For the time being, I prefer to keep
things the way they are ... one faceless soldier taking care of
another faceless soldier. Perhaps later, I'll change my mind.
Perhaps I won't ... perhaps I won't have to decide one way or
another. Perhaps, one day, some anonymous soldier will return the
favor by adopting my grave site, will come to visit my final rest
and talk to me of wars and struggles that I couldn't ever imagine
happening.
The soldier's grave sites are scattered throughout the Lubeck
cemetery, and many are concentrated in the area dense with trees.
After considerable observation, I have determined that they are
on alert, ready to move out if needed, and yet, some are
set-up in defensive positions. In one such formation they are in
a large circle, looking outward, with a small cluster of men
positioned in the center, which I presume is the platoon's
command post. In another spot, where one marker lays flat upon
the ground ... having fallen during heavy rains, and since left
that way ... in seeming imitation of a prone firing position,
blending in with the rest of the formation, and there appears to
be a machine-gunner who's covering the approach to a larger
formation. This elevated spot also serves as an excellent
observation post, since it offers good views, is camouflaged with
dense foliage, and has a nearby log that offers some cover from
enemy fire. Some of the groups appear to be preparing to move
out. As the area gets thicker with trees, their deep shadows
offer concealment. As I move along the path, more soldiers are
revealed, overlaid with interlocking avenues that would repel an
advance or protect a withdrawal. This group seems to be a
reinforced platoon with the markers being larger. They seem to be
ready to move by squads with one squad spread out in skirmish
formation. There is a scout a few yards in front and, near him,
the platoon leader ... close enough to the front to know what's
happening, but back far enough to direct operations. I look at
all the soldiers and I find it very strange that they
seem to be moving out ... yet, they remain fixed in
place.
On another visit, this one in May 2007, as I entered the Lubeck
cemetery, I can hear music floating on the air coming across
Travemunde Allee. It sounds like marching hymns, which struck me
as an inspirational touch accompanying my visit. The music was
part of a children's festival that was being held some distance
from the cemetery. This is an annual event, so my wife and I
planned to go after my cemetery visit. On this particular day
there were unaccountably more flowers, many birds singing, the
glorious sun shining through the trees, and the sound of distant
music giving a surrealistic feel and appearance to the grave
markers and headstones. I walked the usual paths and saw the
soldiers appearing more relaxed. They were wearing clean uniforms
and looked spiffy. I stopped at the grave of my friend,
Helmut von Pein, and it suddenly dawned on me what I was seeing.
I was seeing: his grave, and not
a soldier! For a brief moment I saw a face. It
was the face of a German soldier pictured in the book Enemy at
the Gates, the story of the Russians recapturing Stalingrad
from the Germans. In my mental picture of his war, I had given
that face to Helmut. Although they both were on the Eastern
Front, the soldier illustrated in the book had survived the
battle and returned to Germany after the war. I said a prayer,
said goodbye until next year, and saluted my friend,
Helmut.
I moved away, getting onto another path that did not seem
familiar. I thought I had covered them all. The graves in this
path were marked with the more typical marble headstones. Some
were single grave sites and others were those of several soldiers
from the same outfit who'd been killed in action on the same
date. I was surprised that I saw headstones and
not soldiers, as I had on other visits. The headstones
were lined up close to the edge of the path ... then a strange
feeling overcame me. It was chilling. It was joyful, like the
feeling a person gets when celebrating among friends. The far
away music must have had some effect. I was no longer in a
cemetery. I was with fellow soldiers ... in Brotherhood.
Suddenly, the headstones were once again soldiers ...
lined up side by side on both sides of the path, ranks dressed
and covered, facing each other. It was not a long line, but it
was an impressive line ... and a very emotional moment for me. At
the end of the line stood a proud young soldier waving for me to
join him. I did walk the path between the soldiers who were now
at positions of rigid attention. When I reached the end, I turned
around to face the soldiers, saluted them and gave an
appreciative smile. They in turn, stayed at present arms
and discreetly smiled. The other soldiers, who were watching from
their various vantage points, saluted and then returned my smile.
This was a very poignant moment, one I shall never forget. I
continued along the path that eventually led to the east exit of
the cemetery. Once I was on Travemunde Allee I turned to look
back at the Lubeck cemetery ... all I saw was a peaceful cemetery
with Graves and Headstones.
by Milton R. Olazagasti
... who is a Korean War combat veteran, a retired analytical
chemistry laboratory supervisor, a former translator for the
Delaware Public Defender's Office, a certified soccer coach, and
a National Referee Assessor for USSOCCER, now composing a memoir
of war. This work is excerpted from Invisible Scars, a
collection in progress. His writings have previously appeared in
this periodical.
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