In 1917, Berdine gave birth to a son: Hans Sheimer.

Berdine will no longer play a role in this tale. But for grins, her name meant “Bright, or glowing Maiden.”

Hans was born in a small barn. His family was poor, as were most Germans after the First World War. He was schooled by his mother, and taught to tend horses by his neighbor, Alvar.

Hans’ father was killed in the First World War. A bullet had been shot straight across the battlefield and popped right into his head.

Hans was 20 years old when he first met his “Bright, glowing Maiden.” Of course, her name wasn’t Berdine.

Her name was Alaina. It meant ‘Precious.’

People now-a-days don’t seem to care much about what their name means. My name, thanks to my mother, meant “A noble King, man who builds a foundation, or brick layer.” Hans means “the Lord is gracious.” I prefer my name.

Alaina [i:154q8d6e]was[/i:154q8d6e] quite precious. Had I been German, and lived in Kassel, I would have fallen in love the instant I met Alaina. Her hair was dark, the color of chocolate, and her eyes a green matched only by the shores of the sea.

And her figure, slender with a hint of womanly curves: what more can a man desire?

Yes, it’s fair to say that I would have loved her. And I would have treated her like a queen.

But alas, it was Hans Sheimer that courted her, and ultimately married in the spring of 1937.

It was a changing time, not only for Hans, but the country as well. In November of that same year, Alaina became pregnant with her first and only son.

A year later, 1938, Alaina’s son was born, and raised in the very same farm as Hans.

Hans’ mother had passed away; a virus claimed her life. She joined up with her husband, and enjoyed the rest of eternity together.

But back to Hans: Like most impressionable youth at the time, Hans found an interest in the Nazi party. They had all the answers, or at least Hans believed it so. And Hans was looking for answers.

His dear Alaina was opposed to his interest in joining the army, and pleaded for him to stay in Kassel, stay with his son, protect them.

But Hans didn’t listen.

But as it turned out, Hans was stationed in Kassel, and allowed to be with his family and child. It was a lucky post for the couple, and their son. And for a few years, their lives would be perfect.

Hans was a soldier in the Nazi regime, and was able to afford fresh milk, bread, sausage and fruit for his family. And his little boy grew and grew and grew.

But as most stories progress, at least ones involving the Nazis, things took a turn for the worse.

1942: not a good year for the Germans.

And for the Sheimer family, the 27th of August would drive a wedge between Hans, and his ‘Precious.’

The British air force flew over the small city of Kassel, and dropped small metal containers. These containers changed the lives of thousands.

All three Sheimers survived the 1942 bombing of Kassel. But it marked the beginning of a terrible debate between Alaina and Hans which would eventually end their marriage.

Alaina—rightfully so—begged her husband to abandon the Nazi army, and flee the country. She argued and screamed, if not for their survival, for their son’s. He was now 4 years old, with chocolate hair and blue eyes, like his father’s.

The fight raged on for days and days.

“Why do we not leave this town? They are going to come, and they are going to kill us!” Alaina cried.

“I can’t give up!” For Hans, a certain amount of pride had gotten to his head. The same can be said for many of the Nazi soldiers.

“We can leave safely to the United States, or anyplace Hans. Just not here!” And this was true. Alaina had friends within Kassel that had planned on fleeing the country, and moving to the United States.

“I will not abandon the Fuehrer,” he said back.

“And what of your family? Will you protect us too, if we leave?”

Hans, angry with her defiance, slapped her across the face. She fell to her knees.

“You will stay here with me, and defend our home,” he said with finality. He walked out of the room, slammed the door behind him, and for the next hour he walked the streets of Kassel, thinking about what he had just done.

The 4 year old child, who had witnessed the whole thing, remained on the floor, playing with a model plane. And Alaina, beautiful as she was, remained on the floor, watching her child as the swelling in her cheek rose. Her hair hung down, covering her tear-filled eyes.

Never before had Hans hit a woman, and never once had he though it to be Alaina.

And the next day, when Hans returned to his home after duty, he found it to be empty. His little boy was gone. And his Precious Alaina was gone too, both to the United States, or somewhere else: somewhere safe.

Hans remained in Kassel for another year. And on the 22nd of November in the year 1943, 569 of those big bomber planes hummed in the sky once again.

The planes approached from the north, all the way from the United Kingdom, and had followed what they thought to be a military supply track.

In fact, it wasn’t a military supply track at all, but a passenger track for those traveling in and out of Kassel.

From high above, those containers fell from the belly of the planes and landed left and right. One such container flew through the air, spinning like a dying bird, and landed right next to the third compartment of a passenger train headed north. And for a moment, it was bright: so bright that Alaina and her dear child could see nothing at all.

A moment later, Alaina was greeting her husband’s father, who had been shot in the head, and his mother Berdine, who had died of the flu. Her little boy smiled, as he met his grandparents for the first time.


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