For me, one thing was clear - I had to go back into the Grunewald as soon as possible to pick up more brass.
By this point I had stopped caring what the shells looked like, as long as I found some more. I had persuade
Opa to not just walk around the boring lake, the "Krumme Lanke" - one of his favorite hikes - but to go with
me into the woods that lay beyond, where the American troops regularly carried out their military training.
That's where practically all of the carefully sectored "blocks" of the forest rose above the idyllic lake
in direction of the "Havel". For me at that time, it was a vast and rambling area. I soon realized that I
was not the only one who had found such a lucrative source on income. Many people, young and old, were to
be found in the woods searching for the valuable brass. After a while I began to believe that everyone I
came across in the Grunewald was my competition.
If only my pants pockets had been bigger. At that time there weren't any plastic bags and the conventional
thin paper bags ripped much too easily and often drove me to despair. A good alternative were empty
sandbags from the countless foxholes, but when they were filled with brass they quickly became much too
heavy and unwieldy. Because of their weight alone, ammunition boxes made of steel were also unpractical.
The money was lying around all over the woods in the form of expended cartridges; it was just the means of
transporting them that developed into more and more of a problem for me. There was one thing, however,
that had suddenly changed - my acute lack of money was all of a sudden over. Almost daily I bought so many
things that I had desired, in particular masses of sweets. My school friends watched with real envy whenever
I arrived at school with a large bag of candies, as was often the case. Although I was always willing to
share, I kept my unusual hobby a secret from them, for there was enough competition already. At the same
time, my interest in school became non-existent. How was I supposed to concentrate when all you could hear
in the classroom were the continuous firing coming from the nearby Grunewald, and all you could think about
were the empty shells lying on the ground? I waited impatiently for school to finish so that I could finally
get out there again. Back at home, I threw my school bag into a corner, wolfed down my meal and hurried off
into the Grunewald. It was like one big adventure that brought new fascinations for me with each new day.
I was allowed to stay out until the church bells rang at 6 p.m., then it was time for school homework.
In the meantime, I had become quite particular with the American rations, known as "C-Rations". There were
lots of different types of cans, but from those I would find, I only took a certain selection. In case I
felt like having a spontaneous picnic out in the open, I always carried in my pants pocket a small U.S.
can-opener, known to the Americans as "P38". Oma often wondered why I didn't have much of an appetite at
dinner-time.
Right in the middle
