From Charlotte to Heidelberg and Back

During the Vietnam era, around 1969, my husband served in the U. S. Army and was fortunately sent to serve in Heidelberg, Germany vs. into the war zone. After being there for several months, he arranged for our 9-month old son and me to join him, and we were there for around one and a half years.

Upon arrival in Frankfurt and during the whirlwind 40-minute trip on the autobahn to Nussloch, a small town around 20 minutes from Heidelberg, I could already tell via interaction with just a few Germans that this was going to be a somewhat difficult and confusing experience. First, the language barrier was a problem, and secondly, I got the impression immediately that every German we spoke with was irritated with us.

Once we arrived at our new home, on the third floor of Herr Rupp’s guesthaus (part hotel, part grocery store, and part café), it was quite an adjustment getting specific rental information from the Rupp’s and also learning our way around the guesthaus and the town of Nussloch.

A couple of examples come to mind right away that show our confusion and concerns. Because we had the impression our German neighbors were unfriendly and “gruff,” we mostly kept to ourselves. After several months of sharing a window clothes line with one of our neighbors, we heard one of them say something in English and then learned that all along they were also a U. S. Army American family. They had felt the same way we did about keeping to themselves because of our perceived unpleasant German temperament. Needless to say, we became best of friends, since as far we know even today, we were the only two American couples living in the town of Nussloch at the time.

Since we did not have an automobile, one snowy day my son and I had to ride the strassebahn (strasse - street car) to Heidelberg to go to the PX for groceries. Even though I smiled at the other German passengers, there was no response back to me. All of a sudden, the strasse came to a sudden, jolting stop. I did not know what was going on, but the driver was motioning for everyone to get off quickly. I was very scared and finally asked, as best I could, a couple of German ladies if they could help me understand what was going on. It was as if I had not said anything to them. They just looked at me in an agitated way, in my opinion at the time.

Finally, the driver came over, and I was able to interpret that there was a loss of power on the line and that the street car was not going to be able to go for quite a while. The two ladies then flagged down a car and signaled for me and my son to come over. They forcefully motioned for us to get in the front seat with the driver, and they sat in the backseat. I was not sure what was going to happen, but I knew we would have frozen in the terrible weather otherwise. I did not know if we were headed on to Heidelberg or back to Nussloch or even where otherwise. Thankfully, we did end up safely back in Nussloch.

After a while, we determined that many of the younger Germans spoke very good English, but the older Germans did not. We also learned that these people are very caring and that a language barrier can cause all kinds of misinterpretations about people.