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IN THIS ISSUE

• Les Davison reaches the other side of the Rhine River
• Ernest Blashke's story about wartime Vienna is continued
• Jack Peaker tells of the drastic measures used by a young doctor
• Geoff Goodship has problems with an outdated technology
• Tony Lewis forwards some things frustrated wives may say
• The editor brings you up to date on recent events
• Have you ever wondered what happened to Poe's raven?

Les Davison and a companion are trying to reach the Rhine River in his

WARTIME MEMORIES

We soon found an abandoned farm and went into the deserted cowshed and up into the hay on the second floor. Having been walking for most of the night, we were soon fast asleep. I was awakened by the sound of voices and gingerly looked down into the cowshed. What I saw was not encouraging, to say the least. About a dozen German soldiers were down there, standing around talking and smoking. Why they were there I have no idea, but I quickly put my hand over Vic's mouth and motioned him to keep quiet. We lay there for about two hours, hardly daring to breathe, until finally about two p.m. they all formed up and moved out.

With a large sigh of relief we decided that some food was in order. Maagi had made up three sandwiches for each of us, black bread as usual. We decided to eat two each, just in case we had any further problems and were unable to make it across the river that night. As soon as it was dark we moved out. We kept to the fields but basically followed the road, which ran due south. Although we were well within what must have been the enemy front line, we were not challenged again and about 11 p.m. arrived at the dyke. Up we went, over the dyke road running along the top, and started down the other side towards the river bank. The dyke was covered with small trees and bushes and we made quite a racket getting down to the river bank. We got quite a shock when we arrived at the bottom. There was a towpath running alongside the river's edge, for the horses that towed the barges up and down the river.

What we had not been prepared for was the fact that there was a sentry walking up and down the towpath; he in turn connected with another sentry about 100 metres to the east, and on the return trip, connected with a sentry 100 metres to the west. We had to assume that this sequence continued for some distance in each direction so there was no hope of going around them. While hiding in the scrub at the bottom of the dyke, Vic and I discussed the situation quietly. It soon became obvious that the only way to get into the river was across the towpath. The question was, what were we going to do about the centries?

Finally I had an idea. Sentry duty in the British army is two hours on and four off. If the Germans used the same system, it was possible that the sentries would change shifts at midnight. So possibly the changing of the sentries would give us our chance to cross the towpath and be on our way. We waited breathlessly for about 40 minutes and, sure enough, at midnight the sentry marched off to what I can only presume was some sort of guardhouse and left the path clear for us.

We squirmed our way across the path and attempted to inflate the boat with a compressed air cylinder which was attached. However the thing made such a noise that I turned it off immediately and finished inflating the boat with the hand pump. We threw it into the water and Vic climbed in. I then slid into the water and started to push the boat into the current by swimming behind it with my hands on the stern. With Vic paddling with the fence post and me swimming behind, we made good progress and there was no activity from the shore. Apparently we had got away without anyone hearing us and the only problem we had now was the current, which had strengthened considerably. It was sleeting and the water was quite cold. However, because of the exertion required to push the boat and possibly the fact that we were fully clothed, I didn't feel the cold at all.

We had been in the water about half an hour and still couldn't see the other bank. I was getting worried that maybe we were not making any north-to-south progress but were just drifting with the current. I had been told the river was about 400 metres across. If this was the case, we should have been over to the other bank by now. It became obvious that we were making very little lateral progress and I just prayed that we would not be swept back to the north bank. All we could do was keep paddling and pushing, and we just tried a little harder.

Our efforts were rewarded when Vic shouted that he could see bushes on the south dyke and within minutes I could feel the bottom. After reaching the bank, we pulled the boat out and started to climb the dyke. We soon reached the dyke road, which ran across the top and then we had to decide whether to walk east or west.

Our problem was that although we knew that the Allies were in control of the South side of the river in the immediate vicinity, we didn't know just how far that control ran, and at this point, because we had been drifting downstream, we didn't know really where we were. After some discussion, we decided to walk to the east. This decision was based on the presumption that we had been drifting west. After some time we came to a 'T' junction with a road running to the south, which fortunately had a signpost pointing south which said 'Nijmegen 20 Kilometres'. We knew that the Allies were in control of Nijmegen and we literally whooped with joy.

However, our enthusiasm was dampend a little when we got to the bottom of the dyke. The road to Nijmegen was under about three feet of water. We were not aware that that the Germans had blown the dyke walls in order to force the Allied forces back from the river. Nevertheless this only slowed us up a little. We could see where the road was by the telephone lines at the side of the road and the feel of the tarmac under our feet kept us on track. We had a length of string with us so we tied this to the boat and dragged it along, just in case the water got too deep. It was rather hard work walking through waist-high water and consequently our progress was quite slow.

To be continued.

Here is the third instalment of Ernest Blaschke's story about

LIFE IN VIENNA DURING AND AFTER WW II

In April, 1945, the German army placed one huge gun in the middle of our street, a thoroughfare, pointing it up the street where they presumably suspected the invading Russian army would come from. We watched all this from our windows on the second floor of our apartment building. Nothing further seemed to happen.

The next morning there was some activity around the gun, and the German soldiers blew it up, then left. We assumed that they had retreated towards the downtown area of the city and wanted to destroy the gun before it fell into the hands of the advancing Russians. Shortly thereafter, five or six German tanks rumbled through the street, shaking all the buildings, again in the direction away from the front line.

The next hour was quiet. Suddenly we saw from our windows a few soldiers in Russian uniforms running through the streets, obviously relieved that there was no resistance in our area. It must have been a reconnaissance troop.

Again, after a few hours, regular Russian army troops came through the streets and some of them set up camp there. During all this time we had not seen any Russian heavy weapons and were afraid that if the German tanks were to turn around, we could land in the middle of a battle. It was only a day later, when Russian tanks finally drove through the streets, that we felt "safe" in the sense that we knew the war was over as far as we were concerned.

From now on our concern was food, and dealing with the Russian occupation forces as well as we could.

We soon found out a lot about the Russian troops:

The front line troops were the elite of the Russian army. They seemed to be efficient, disciplined, did not loot and rape as is common, and were very generous to the civilian population, sharing their military rations, handing out bowls of soup, etc., from their campsites in the streets.

These front line troops soon advanced further into the city and were replaced by "regular" Russian troops, which were vastly different in many ways, and which I shall describe in my next article.

Russian soldiers were much more humane than German soldiers occupying foreign territory. For example, there was a curfew for civilians till about 9 a.m. At 5 a.m. we used to go out into the streets and line up at a bakery to obtain some loaves of bread. If German soldiers had decreed a curfew and found people in the street, they would have shot them. Russians might come around and ask what you were doing, but would not bother you once they saw you were only trying to get food.

Much of the benign treatment of civilians in Vienna and Austria by Russian soldiers was due to their being told they were liberating Austria rather than occupying Germany itself. We were told that Russians in Germany proper acted with much less restraint.

Most civilians with a Nazi past had either fled or were smart enough to burn or remove any pictures of Hitler, any Swastikas, etc., from their apartments or professional places, before the Russian troops found them. Any time the Russians found evidence of Nazi emblems, they would smash them and investigate further.

As mentioned earlier, the next few weeks and months were dedicated to finding out how best to live with the Russian - or rather, Soviet - occupation forces. I say Soviet because soon the Russians were replaced by Mongolian troops with yaks in the street, and it was harder to deal with them than the Russians. Many of those soldiers had probably never seen a big city before and they were learning to "requisition" bicycles and learning to ride them. But I am getting ahead of myself ... more of this later.

To be continued.

Jack Peaker sends this story about a woman afflicted with

HICCUPS

A woman went to the doctor's office, where she was seen by a young new doctor. After about four minutes in the examination room, the doctor told her she was pregnant. She burst out screaming as she ran down the hall.

An older doctor stopped her and asked what the problem was, and she told him her story. After listening, he had her sit down and relax in another room.

The doctor marched down the hallway to the back where the first doctor was and demanded, "What's the matter with you? This woman is 56 years old, she has two grown children and several grandchildren, and you told her she was pregnant?"

The new doctor continued to write on his clipboard and without looking up said, "Does she still have the hiccups?"

You think you have problems with your computer? Compare them with this venture into an older technology, as related by Geoff Goodship:

MY TRIP TO THE [LEA MARKET

Last week I was su[[ering from computer constipation. No matter what I did I could not get things going so thought a little exercise and a break from the keyboard might help. It wasn't long be[ore we were in the car heading to the market. There I [ound a typewriter that was a great bargain. The fe[[ow said it had only been used once by a little grey-haired old lady. Since the memories of my [rustrations earlier in the day were still with me, and since it was such a bargain, I couldn't resist such a great deal. As you may have noticed, however, the [ key doesn't work so I have replaced it with the [.

My computer was [rustrating me so badly that I [elt this would be a welcome relie[ as well as some [un. Now back to the etter I was writing: Oops, the '!' is stuck too. I'!! rep!ace that with the '!.' I need the '1' number, so using the '1' might be con[using. A[ter all, the exc!amation mark looks very much like the !etter that rhymes with He!!.

I can te!! you there was !ots to see at the [lea Marke+. (Shoo+ there goes the +.) I+'s no+ impor+an+ +hough [or +he + !ooks very much !ike the +. I+ jus+ +akes a !i++!e ge++ing used +o. $hoo+ there goes the $. Maybe +his +ypewri+er wa$ no+ $uch a goo) i)ea a[+er a!!. )amn, +here goes +he ). Guess I!! jus+ have to pour a !i++!e oi! on i+.

+he man assure) me I+ was a grea+ (argain. {wha+ +he heck, +here goes the }. I[ind +ha+ +he ( is a rea! !oss. +his is +errib!e. Now I can no+ even +ype 22/34 any more. [or+una+e!y, '2' i$ a pre++y goo) rep!acemen+ [or '2'. Ju$+ +he $ame, i[ I can ge+ my han)$ on +ha+ $a!e$man, I'!! ki!! him.

Where wa$ I? .+ha+ )o#$ i+!!!! Now +h# '#' bumm#d ou+. $orry, bu+ wi+h on!y $#v#n+##n !#++#r$ !#[+, i+ i$ no u$#. I'!! [ini$h +hi$ ar+ic!# a[+#r I g#+ m% +%p#wri+#r [ix#). Ki!!, Ki!!, Ki!!.

Tony Lewis forwards some

THINGS STRESSED WOMEN MAY SAY TO THEIR NEWLY-RETIRED HUSBANDS IN A CROWDED KITCHEN

* You say I'm a bitch like it's a bad thing.

* Well, this day was a total waste of make-up.

* Well, aren't we a damn ray of sunshine this morning?

* Don't bother me; I'm living happily ever after.

* Do I look like a people person? Get out of my kitchen.

* This isn't an office. It's hell with fluorescent lighting.

* Therapy is expensive. Popping bubble wrap is cheap. You choose.

* Why don't you try practicing random acts of intelligence and senseless acts of self-control?

* I'm not crazy. I've been in a very bad mood since the kids left.

* Sarcasm is just one more service I offer. Pick up your laundry.

* Do they ever shut up on your planet?

* Back off! You're standing in my aura.

* Don't worry. I forgot your name too.

* Not all men are annoying. Some are dead.

* Wait ... I'm trying to imagine you with a personality.

* Earth is full. Go home.

* I'm not tense, just terribly, terribly alert.

* Look in my eyes ... Do you see one ounce of give-a-hoot?

EDITOR'S NOTE: How about this one, which I heard from a hostess of a B&B in Kingston: "I married my husband for better or worse, but not for lunch." She found him a job at a marina.

THE TIME HAS COME ...

(though I am not a walrus) to speak of many things. First, as you probably know from the news, the danger of widespread flooding in the lower mainland of BC has subsided, owing to the cooler weather, though a close watch is still being kept on the mighty Fraser. The northern part of the province was not so lucky, and many homes and farms and native reservations have been inundated.

On a more personal note, the four holes in my bathroom are still not repaired, and the black plastic with which they are covered has a tendency to drift from its moorings and flutter about in some draft created by the holes. The water has been shut off from 9 a.m. till 4:30 p.m. two days this week, to allow the plumbers to work on the pipes in the laundry room and presumably, the furnace room, because we have hot water heating.

If I owned this apartment, I would be distraught by the sight of the new plastic pipes snaking along the roof in my hallway, but as it is, I am only amused. This is a very old building, and I suppose the owners are not interested in spending a great deal of money on it, and they have resorted to the cheapest way of replacing the old pipes. I did get a shiny new set of bathtub taps, however.

The most annoying aspect of this ancient building is the acoustic permeability of the walls. The tenant next door to me is into heavy metal music, and while he has turned it down to barely-audible levels, I still feel the reverberations of the drums - night and day. Judith sent me a sound device that she hoped would solve the problem, so for hours during the night, the sound of rushing water competes with the jungle drums next door. I confess I have no appreciation of that music, and the fact that the sound goes on for hours at a time leaves me wondering what in the world the young man can be doing to the distant sound of drums. Sleeping, perhaps?

The most attractive feature of the building is its proximity to all the amenities I need. The library is across the street; there is a shopping mall across from the library; the bank and restaurants and post office are all within walking distance. Since I have given up driving my car, and do not walk very well any more, this is an important advantage. Besides, moving is such a drag....

We are coming to the end of Les Davison's story about his wartime experiences, and Ernest Blaschke's early memories of Vienna have only a few more episodes to run. Be warned that I will begin nagging again about personal reminiscences from you, so be prepared to come up with something interesting. Don't forget that you will also be writing for your grandchildren!

This poem by Jascha Franklin-Hodge relates the abrupt

END OF THE RAVEN

by Edgar Allen Poe's Cat

On a night quite unenchanting, when the rain was downward slanting,
I awakened to the ranting of the man I catch mice for.
Tipsy and a bit unshaven, in a tone I found quite craven,
Poe was talking to a raven perched above the chamber door.
"Raven´s very tasty," thought I, as I tiptoed o´er the floor,
"There is nothing I like more."

Soft upon the rug I treaded, calm and careful as I headed
Towards his roost atop that dreaded bust of Pallas I deplore.
While the bard and birdie chattered, I made sure that nothing clattered,
Creaked, or snapped, or fell, or shattered, as I crossed the corridor;
For his house is crammed with trinkets, curios and wierd decor -
Bric-a-brac and junk galore.

Still the Raven never fluttered, standing stock-still as he uttered,
In a voice that shrieked and sputtered, his two cents´ worth -
"Nevermore."

While this dirge the birdbrain kept up, oh, so silently I crept up,
Then I crouched and quickly lept up, pouncing on the feathered bore.
Soon he was a heap of plumage, and a little blood and gore -
Only this and not much more.

"Oooo!" my pickled poet cried out, "Pussycat, it´s time I dried out!
Never sat I in my hideout talking to a bird before;
How I´ve wallowed in self-pity, while my gallant, valiant kitty
Put and end to that damned ditty" - then I heard him start to snore.
Back atop the door I clambered, eyed that statue I abhor,
Jumped - and smashed it on the floor.

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"The life of every man is a diary in which he means to write one story, and writes another; and his humblest hour is when he compares the volume as it is with what he vowed to make it." - Sir James Barrie