Right before I joined the Church, I was on a deployment aboard the USS INDEPENDENCE (CV-62), to the Mediterranean Sea. I had been on part of a deployment a year earlier, and had learned that there were things one really needed to have, and one of those was a EUR-RAIL Pass, essentially, a six-month ticket to ride the European railroads, anywhere, anytime, for (in pre-1974 Dollars) $65.00. Every time we were in port, in Naples, Athens, Barcelona, wherever..., and I had a weekend off..., I would disappear. My Navy ID was my passport, and I got to places many of my shipmates didn't, because they didn't have the Pass.
The ship was in Naples, it was a US Holiday weekend, which meant that, since I had Duty on Thursday, nobody had to go in on Monday, my leave started on Tuesday... I had a three day head-start on a 4 day leave, to go North to Munich, just in time for the start of Oktoberfest! I had $650 I had saved, and going to a real Oktoberfest, was high on my bucket list.
Just so you know, this was before cell phones, before direct international dialing, before it was easy to "reach out an touch someone..." I had a signed leave authorization, checked out on Friday morning, valid for 7 days, but when I got back, the papers submitted would only charge me for 4 days of leave (it always helped to have a guy from your boot camp Company in Personnel). Now days, you call from Munich, I guess...
Friday morning, right after Muster, when the off-going Duty Section was released, I took the leave papers I submitted (for 4 days), went down to Personnel and swapped them for the 7 day papers, changed clothes, grabbed my "Liberty Bag," checked off the ship, and rode one of the first Liberty Launches of the day. I'd asked if some of the other guys, with Passes, if they wanted to go up for the start of Oktoberfest, and no one wanted to go... I asked a couple of guys I knew aboard the ship who didn't have the Pass, but had the money to buy a ticket, and go, but no one seemed to want to spend the time on the train.. So I was off to Munich, alone. It's not as bad as it seems, it was 1973, and people didn't mess with Americans (too much) in Europe.
Sure, there were, what I called, the "Language Game," where a National's ability to speak English decreased with an American's demands to "find someone who speaks English around here". From that previous partial-deployment, I learned that if you knew enough of just about any European Language to say, "I do not speak _____. Does anyone speak English?" in the local language, darn near everyone did. The ship had a civilian instructor aboard to teach PACE (Program for Afloat College Education) classes in Linguistics, and we had become friends as I would go to our ship's library, and study books on Elementary Languages, for Greek, Italian, and German, and he offered to help me master those phrases. Some guys learned to ask those questions in French, and had limited success, but I learned them in whatever the language was of the country we were going to, and never, not even once, had a hard time finding someone whom I could speak with.
It was a great plan, but it had one glaring weakness... Menus... I got on an early train, and reached Munich in the late-afternoon/early-evening, and I though I'd stop at the restaurant in the Station, and grab a bite... except the menu was in German, and my attempts to use my phrases in German were failing (I decided to take this trip four days before I left, and I looked at the book, but hadn't done a lot of practicing), when a gentleman, who had been sitting with a woman a couple of tables over, came up and asked me what the problem was, in English that showed little of the German influence. I told him I didn't read German, and just wanted to order something to eat. He helped me get my order placed, and went back to his table for a minute, and came back. He asked if he and his wife could join me, "for your luncheon". Being grateful for his help, I agreed very quickly. He got the waiter's attention, said a brief word in German, and sat down.
He introduced himself as Karl, and his wife as Helga, and said that they were grateful for the chance to practice their English, since they would soon be visiting their son, who was a student at an American university. We talked, Karl ordered us bier while we waited, and we talked for a long time, before, during, and after our meal. I found out that Karl was some kind of plumbing "magnate," in Munich, and owned his own chain of plumbing stores throughout West Germany, and that Helga spent time writing short stories, and some poetry that had been well received in the West (there was still a wall in Berlin at this time). About two hours, and at least three of Germany's best bier's, I realized I still didn't have a place to stay, and had gotten pretty hammered on the bier.
It was while I was saying "Thank you," Karl paid for everything, I asked, "What university does your son attend in America?"
Karl smiled and said that his son was going to be a Veterinarian, and was going to school at the University of California at Davis, obviously proud that his son had been accepted for study at such a good veterinary school. When I told him that Davis was only 20 miles from my home, everything changed...
Karl picked up my bag, and said for me to follow him. I told him that I had no idea where I was staying that night, and he said that he did. I told him I was on a budget, I had money, but I wasn't prepared to stay anyplace expensive. He looked back over his shoulder, a smiled as he said that I could definitely afford the place he was taking me, no matter what kind of budget I was on. It was just after dark, I was in a car, driving across Munich from the train station, and couldn't have found my way back to the station if I wanted to. Karl and Helga kept up a quiet dialogue in German, and Helga laughed a couple of times, as did Karl. Finally, we pull up to a gate, Karl taps in a code, the gate opens, and we drive up to what looked like one of those 5-star hotels, complete with a parking valet. We got out, and walked into this richly decorated room, which I assumed was the lobby, until Karl turned to me a said, "Welcome to our home."
I tried to be adamant, "No, you can't be serious. You don't know me, I don't really know anything about you, and I really am prepared to rent a room..."
At length, Karl put a hand up, and said, "Look, people in America treated our son Gunter very well. A couple met him in an airport restaurant, found out he was going to the university in Davis, and drove him up to the school. There was some mix-up about his dormitory assignment, and the people who Gunter had just met, offered to let him stay in their home until things got cleared up. It turned out, that the couple liked Gunter so much, they offered to rent him their... Granny Flat, is what they called it, it is a room with it's own entrance, kitchen, and WC, for a lot less than it would have cost him to stay in the dormitories. Helga and I had talked about doing the same thing for some one here, and you seemed to be a nice person, so we picked you. Since your home is near Davis, it seemed to be the perfect time..."
I quit objecting after a while. In the meantime, Karl took me around Munich, pointing out the various landmarks, and points of interest, stopping occasionally to step into a Biergarten, and have a liter or so... I remember stopping off at his office, in a really nice building, and him leaving a note for his secretary, and his assistant, that he would be out of the office for the next week. He called both of them from the office, and told them personally, so I thought the note-thing was rather redundant. He said that the notes had specific things for them to do, so they wouldn't have to remember where he wanted them to start. I guess German has a shorthand of its own... I got it, though. He was just reminding them who the Boss was, and making sure that they didn't get behind on their own work, he'd take care of his when he returned. He told me that during Oktoberfest, usually only a limited amount of business got transacted, particularly at the corporate level, "because bosses liked to party, too".
That was one of the last things I really remember, other than an acute hangover on the train back to Naples. Sitting on the train, I pulled out my wallet, to see how much money I had left... $650. It must have been a helluva party, not only do I not remember, it didn't cost me anything... How many people can say that?
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