by Marilyn Seregely

Created on: May 24, 2009   Last Updated: May 26, 2009

Rites of Passage

In 1944, the small village of Heidelberg, Germany, felt the promising warm touch of spring and the bludgeon of war. The town was nestled near the Schwarzwald (Black Forest) and was made up of small farms. The farms were semi-dormant as the war effort took every able bodied man not only in this village, but from the entire country. The only men seen in the town and villages were either too old or infirm, and even these were enlisted to serve as the "Home Guard".

On one of these farms near the forest stood a two story house, very neat, but sorely in need of repairs and paint, which housed Henrietta Holtz and her son, Frederich. The mother and son were bound together by a great love, but each lived in quiet desperation over the other's philosophy of life.

Henrietta had been tending her flowers and trying to pretend that the events shaping her son's and husband's future did not exist, when the post boy appeared.

"Guten Morgen", he said, "you have a post." She wiped the dirt from her hands took the letter and thanked the boy. She quickly ran to the house.

"Frederich, come, there's a post from your Papa!" Henrietta tore at the envelope, holding the first correspondence from her husband, Karl, while she wondered where and how he was. "When will this be over?" she thought.

Frederich came into the room slowly, "Mother, did you call?" he asked, using the short, clipped tones that were becoming a natural way of speech for him.

When did this change begin? He was a small, sturdy looking boy with the required blond hair and blue eyes, not the clear blue of a child, but eyes that watched and waited.

"Here, look, your father is safe and well/" She spread the pages for him to read.

Dearest Henrietta and Frederich,

We have survived a terrible battle somewhere along the border of France. The American troops are moving in quickly now. Our unit captured some American soldiers in this battle, several of them tried to escape and were shot, but I think some of them got away.

I miss both of you terribly. It looks as though I'll miss Frederich's birthday again. Will you bake your chocolate cake for him? I cannot make this a long post, but I wanted to let you know I think of you both often.

auf Weidersehen, Karl (Papa)

When Henrietta looked up, Frederich was staring at the letter. She couldn't tell what he was thinking, (and just as well). Frederich was planning first of all what he would do if he found any escaped prisoners, and also thinking he detected

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