Hans Boche My Story (1) Chapter One. A Hitler Youth. My name is Hans Boche. Full name Hans Wertzheim Dieter Von Boche. I was born in Stuttgart, Germany, on 8th February 1920. Parents: Lotte and Dieter Boche. My Father was Manager of a wholesale stationery company. Germany then seemed to run on Account Books, Graph Paper, Pens, Rulers, Ink, Nibs and Chalks etc. I always had books to draw in which my Father brought home and gave to me. Probably they were slightly sub-standard, as my Father was a perfectionist at home, and no doubt at his work too. I had some magnificent red leather- bound minute books, and account books, to write and draw in. The lines and columns ruled in the books became the norm for me so that it became strange for me to draw on plain paper. I had a period of ill health when I was aged eleven, it was rheumatic fever, and I spent my convalescence drawing in those books. I drew scenes of war with unerring lines between the muzzles of guns and enemy tanks and airplanes etc. I never missed. The enemies that I drew i the books were French or Russian, very prophetic. We lived in a large first floor flat in an Eastern inner suburb of Stuttgart called Milleburg. Stuttgart is in the South Western corner of Germany, cornered by Switzerland and France. Our city is near the Rhine and the old disputed territory of Alsace, though why disputed I could never understand. It is properly German, after all Alsatian dogs which originated there are German. Our neighbouring cities of Munich, Nuremberg and Frankfurt were bastions of Germanic culture, in this area we were all very German indeed. Stuttgart is not far from the Rhineland where the excesses of the French, and their Allies, after the shameful Armistice of 1918 will never be forgotten. Our part of Stuttgart, Milleburg, was a comfortable middle class neighbourhood. Not that I had much awareness then of such things, I simply thought that everyone lived in much the same way as we did. There were three flats in our building, one on each floor. The one on the top floor was always empty so far as I remember. It was not talked about much because it upset our family to do so. It was believed to be owned by Jews, who kept it empty for financial, or other bad reasons, while there were homeless Germans. The ground floor flat was occupied by a couple named Prien. He was a Government Official, though in exactly what capacity I did not know and I don't think my parents knew. He had however always been employed by the Government, even in the days of Hindenberg. He worked in a department which dealt with 'Registration'. Of what and why we did not know. Mr Prien was secretive in all things. Mrs Prien had a shop in the City Centre which sold china and porcelain. Ornaments I believe, rather than plates and the like. � My Mother had been a teacher before having a family. She did not now go out to work, but was employed in a small way at home where she would set and mark extra exercises for a few local children whose parents were not satisfied with their progress. Occasionally she would tutor a small child at home and I pitied the poor little devils when their friends were out playing. I had an older brother, Bernard who was two years older than I, and lived at home, as I did. We had a sister, Inge, who was a year younger than I. She had been married at only seventeen years of age and had then left home. Her husband was a builder and they lived in the centre of Stuttgart. Building was booming and Inge's husband, Otto was busy and prosperous, already employing a number of men. His office was run by Inge. They were already better off than my own parents. We were all glad for Inge of course as she seemed set fair for a prosperous life. � We had one servant who came to our house every day, including Saturdays and Sundays. I remember no day when she was not there, she didn't even seem to have holidays. Her black bicycle, which had three wicker baskets, one at the front and two panniers, always seemed to be in the lower hallway under the wide stairs, covered with a patched white sheet. She was a naturally hard worker and was called by all, 'Hild'. I was told she came from Pomerania and I remember her distinctly different accent. Pomerania was far away the other side of Berlin on the Baltic Coast. She never went back there as far as I remember. She seemed old, but everyone over about hirty seemed old to me then and I guess Hild was not more than Forty. There was no menial aspect of her employment in our family, she was a fellow German and was not afraid of putting me and Bernard right fairly sharply if necessary. � I am speaking, writing rather, of the situation with me and my family and surroundings in 1939. Hitler was the leader of the country. I remembered no other. He had come to power in 1933 when I was thirteen. At the outbreak of war, in 1939, when I was nineteen I had grown up from my early teens to a man, albeit a young man, with Hitler as the sole leader. He was the focus of daily life and talk and we could not envisage Germany without him. In history I was only aware of that inconclusive end to the First World War, in which incidentally my Maternal Grandfather had died. I believed that a betrayal had led to an Armistice without defeat or victory. We were made aware by our Government in the years up to 1939 that many of our Countrymen lived in countries that were not now German, but the peoples were. This fact always worried me. How did those people feel? How would I feel if I were by nationality, say Polish, but by all other criteria German? We were virtually surrounded by these anomalies, the influence of our country having been so great from the dawn of history. Alsace and Lorraine were properly German of course. Poland and Stettin also. Czechoslovakia had many areas almost exclusively populated by Germans, speaking only German. Austria was a separate country by name only, it was as German as we were I'm glad to say, as the Fuhrer came from Austria. In 1938 Austria and Germany became one country properly and Czechoslovakia was split up a bit. No other countries complained so far as I knew. �� My brother Bernard was a member of the Hitler Youth before I, as he was two years older. I was in the Junior Wolfsbund from age fourteen to sixteen. We spent much time in this organisation fighting in the woods with sticks and mud, egged on by old soldiers from World War 1. There were three of these leaders. Hans who was misnamed as he had only one hand. Eric, a slow veteran who had been gassed. Lastly, a smart and tall man who we knew only as 'Kriegie' because he had been captured by the British Army and spent two years on the Isle of Man, an island on the other side of England, poor chap. 'Kriegie' was of a nervous disposition having been shell-shocked before capture and in our 'wood-fights' he would scurry round saying 'pretend only, no hurting.' which had no effect. I still have a scar on my forehead from a stone thrown in the woods by an unknown Junior Wolfsbund, perhaps he later became a General. I left the Junior Wolfsbund at age 16 to join the Hitler Youth proper. What a change! We paraded three times a week and would have gone each and every day if we could. Bernard was a troop leader by now and I grudgingly admired the way he treated me exactly the same as the rest, which was in a decisive and enthusiastic way. Woe betide slackers however. Bernard seemed to have great leadership qualities, and I was aware that visiting officers and local officials treated him with a respect beyond his years and position. My Section leader was Wolfgang, a large, curly haired, accident prone youth. Wolfgang was a friend of Bernard, so Wolfgang would often come to our house and I tried to be diligent when he came, by ostentatiously reading training manuals or sewing yet more badges on my uniform, of which I was very proud. There was a sort of sacredness about the uniform, I would not let 'Hild' sew my badges on and my Mother never did sewing anyway. � Wolfgang was obsessed by guns. In the Hitler Youth we would sometimes be visited by Officers and soldiers of various Divisions, and guns, and the shooting thereof was a regular practice. Care was taken, perhaps not as much as might have been, but no-one was ever hurt badly. A hole in the roof of the hall was caused by Wolfgang examining a visiting officer's Luger. I was surprised at the Officer virtually laughing off the incident as someone could have been killed. Wolfgang had his own .22 revolver, a tiny gun he could actually hide in his large hand. He told me it had been a ladies gun and he was always trying to scratch off the chromium plating to make it a little less feminine. There were two air rifles, one was very powerful, of Belgian make and extremely heavy, only the strong could load it. I could load it. The other was not much more than a pop-gun. It was so weak that Wolfgang would shoot the pellet into the palm of his hand. The troop also had a 9mm automatic pistol, I forget the make, except that it was not a Luger or a Walther or a Mauser, but it was very unreliable and could seldom be made to fire. (Perhaps it was Italian!) We also had two old Mauser rifles, probably of World War 1 vintage, but they were lovingly maintained, and at our 'range' in the woods we all grew reasonably proficient as riflemen. The worst of us could hit a man-wide tree at more than a hundred yards so we wondered how anyone ever survived any sort of war with this devastating power of rifles. We always considered that the best weapons, discipline, training etc. were German, and that Germany would easily prevail in war against anyone. It was an arrogance perhaps, but it sat very easily on all of us. It also looked likely that one day, because our nation was crushed away from its natural boundaries, there would be war. We were just getting ready. � Though this is mainly a narration of my own experiences, I will include some reference to my elder brother, Bernard. I was eventually to join the Army and Bernard the Luftwaffe, so we represented the land and air forces of the Third Reich. We kept in touch but little during the war, we were neither keen on writing letters and often did not have the time anyway, and we met at home in Stuttgart only once when our rare periods of leave coincided. This is going too far ahead however. � As I have mentioned, before the war, Bernard was a troop leader of the Hitler Youth, his troop was named 'Eagle' because it contained those who were interested in flying. Bernard had always been interested in anything to do with aircraft. He had made models from an early age. I had been forbidden to touch them at home, though I was allowed to run miles after his gliders and free flight planes in the Alzestoren Hills, West of our City. In the same Alzestoren Hills there was now a Hitler Youth establishment which was a large hut near the top of a bare hill called 'Der Tumpen' The hut contained a glider owned by the Air Cadet Force of The Hitler Youth. It was sponsored I'm sure by the Luftwaffe. This glider was used by all of the Hitler Youth Organisations in the Stuttgart area . Most of the time therefore, when the weather was suitable, 'Der Tumpen' was busy with aerial activity. � Though not having the interest in airplanes that Bernard had, I had been aloft twice in the glider. Once with my brother piloting and once with an instructor who travelled around the area, as there were many establishments in Germany like 'Der Tumpen' The instructor had been a pilot in the first World War, his name was Lizen. We deduced from his stories, which to his credit he did not embellish, that he crashed through machine failure many times. He did not see much action and the only time he fired his Fokker's guns in anger the interrupter gear did not work, he shot off his propellor and was again crawling from the wreckage. � Wolfgang of the pistol was not interested in aircraft and Bernards' friend in his aeronautical activities was called Lothar. Another reason for the friendship was Lothar's sister Eva. I was of an age to be affected by such things and I also admired Eva, but she had time only for Bernard. Girls were not allowed to fly the glider and they had their separate sections in the Hitler Youth. Their roles were nursing or communications as The Fuhrer did not allow women to be involved in fighting. Motherhood was encouraged and so far as Eva is concerned I would like to have been involved in the process. Eva and her friends had to keep out of the way and pick flowers at 'Der Tumpen'. The glider was very large, made of plywood, balsa-wood, and fabric, and the wings had to be bolted to the fuselage every time it came out of the shed. It seated two people side by side in the wide bucket shaped nose. I do not believe it had good flying qualities as most of its journeys were simply the launch from the shed area, when as many cadets as could be mustered ran in two groups either side of the glider with a rope in a hook under the fuselage. They all ran forward in a straight line and as the ground fell away, the towing cadets generally fell in heaps giving the last impetus to the glider. The normal flight would then be ten or fifteen feet above the slope till the bottom of the valley was reached. About half a mile distant. When the wind was strong up the valley and Herr Lizen was at the controls then sometimes the Eagle was allowed to soar. I remember only twice seeing it gain height to about a thousand feet. I was jolly glad I was not in it then as the mortices and clamps holding the wings on always looked inadequate to me.
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