in Air force base housing. It was like a small American city. There was an enormous bomb crater near our building where the kids would play. I also visited Ramstein Air Force base. I was born in Munich, a year after which my dad was transferred back to the U.S. only to be transferred back to Germany for three years when I was about six. We first lived in Bitburg where we could see the German cemetery from the rear window of the apartment on base housing, the same cemetery Reagan visited to pay respects to the Nazi SS buried there. My mother would curse the Germans every morning when she looked out on that cemetery. My mother hated the Germans (I don't, I played with the German children of maids who worked on the base, but I hate what the Nazis did). Her father fought in WWI and died during WWII because there was no access to medicine with all the restrictions and deprivations of the occupying Germans. Near the cemetery was a German church that had a cap and spire that reminded her of the German helmets during WWI that my mother also cursed. My mom also disliked the Germans for having arrested her brother during WWII, branding him a terrorist for distributing anti-Nazi tracts and sending him in a train to a concentration camp (he escaped from the train and later joined the resistance - here's a photo of him lying prone and firing a machine gun when the resistance rose up to free Marseille before the allies arrived). My dad was a B-17 pilot shot down over Germany where he became a POW. My dad loved all people. Although he was from the south, he had not an ounce of racism in him and loved the black soldiers who served under him. He didn't even hate the Germans even though they had tortured him, thinking he was a spy because he chose the day he was shot down to wear an English officer's uniform in his American B-17 as a joke. He even learned to speak German as a POW.
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