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BAVARIAN
HOLIDAY
"Where can I take
the family for a holiday, Bill?" I asked the Squadron Commander, who was lounging in the chair opposite. The year was
1974 and we were both Majors in 7 Signal Regiment, stationed in a Bad Salzuflen, a small spa town in Germany. We provided
the complex communications for 1 British Corps, spending a lot of time hidden in the dense woods, high on hill tops in the
mountainous area of the North. Fifty large lorries with trailers, packed with radio relay, line channelling, cyrpto and computer
equipment and about a hundred men to go with it kept us both busy. We spent weeks at a time out on exercise in all weathers,
which could be severe in the winter. The family deserved a break, we didn't see much of each other, as our two boys were in
UK in Boarding school in term time.
He thought for a bit. " How about going to the Snow Queen site? Its nearly Easter
and Op Snow Queen is over for this year. I am sure you could get in there for a week or so. It's a comfortable Gasthaus as
far south as you can get, on the Austrian border. Our lads always report that they had a good week there and it wouldn't be
too expensive. Give Loui a ring as see if you can get in". Snow Queen was the name of the annual ski training. A lucky thirty
from our Regiment spent a week with a German Army Mountain Regiment in the south. Each British regiment had to make it's own
arrangements for accommodation. Every year ours had stayed in a Guest house near Fussen, a holiday resort not far from
Lake Constance or Bodensee as it is known in Germany.
So I did ring, and he could take us for the ten days we wanted.
A few days later we had the Volvo packed and were heading south down the autobahn. The scenery became more and more sensational
as we neared our destination. Churches with onion domes nestled in deep valley villages with mountains towering over. There
were beautiful views of green fields and alpine meadows in every direction. Best of all, the winter snow still lingered on
the tops of the Alpine mountains.
We drew up in front of the prettiest wooden Swiss type building that could be
imagined. It was like the set for an Austrian operetta. A small open space in front contained a spring and well decorated
with flowers. Windows fronted the Gasthaus, the balconies overflowing with Geraniums and other flowers. It was a bigger structure
than at first appeared with about five floors. We were given a huge room on the third floor with our own bathroom. I believe
that it acted as a dormitory for fifteen or so men of our ski novices. A tour of inspection revealed that the rear went on
and on, finishing in storerooms, garages and a pen for a pig.
We stood on our balcony and looked out across the
square at the village church and the few houses straggling up the hill to the rear. The expression The air was wine' was an
understatement, fresh from the alpine snows, full of early Spring. Soon we heard the sound of a regular thumping from the
kitchen below betokening the tenderising of meat, in this case turning out to be pork cutlets, to be cooked as schnitzels
for our supper. We were called down and offered steins of lager and soft drinks for the boys. We learnt that Loui was, in
fact, Belgian. Mama, his German Frau, who was as wide as she was tall, was a formidable figure completely overshadowing her
husband. She was always dressed in a pinafore and rarely left her kitchen. We ate like trenchermen the whole holiday,
being presented with a large picnic every mornings as we sallied forth for the day, but every evening the sound of thumping
resounding through the Gasthaus signified that, yet again we were to have schnitzels for supper. Groans from the boys, something
had to be done.
So one morning we motored over to Garmisch- Parchenkirchen, taking the road over the border into
Austria, and back into Germany a few miles on. Garmisch P were really two towns joined on a flat valley floor with the steep
slopes of mountains all around. An American Army leave resort there had a good PX, a store and duty free shop for their forces,
which we were supposed to be able to use on production of our British military identity cards. We had some trouble gaining
entry, but were eventually admitted to this cave of treasures, where we acquired several packets of huge American steaks.
We would dine on these tonight.
"Mama ", we said on return presenting her with a foot and a half high column of
boxes, "No schnitzels tonight please, lets have steaks for a change. I must say, she took it well, but that maybe was because
they were included in the invitation. Beefsteaks are considerably more expensive than pork on the open market. I was
imagining a sigh of relief coming from the pen at the rear of the house, also.
We visited Neuschwanstein and
the Fairylike castle, built on a peak at the head of a wonderful lake and overlooked by the encircling mountains, including
the Zugspitz, the highest in Germany. A frighteningly high cable car system ran up from the valley to the peak, where a 007
film had been shot some time before. Nothing whatever would have induced me to go on that cable car. We watched the tiny car
creep up the wire as we lounged in a buttercup meadow by the Alpsee, with a warm sun shining out of o clear blue sky. Bliss.
One
evening the village band came to the Gasthaus and practised all that omp-pa music beloved of Germans. They consumed a lot
of pils and we did not get to sleep early that night. On Sunday the Church bell called all the villagers to church and they
arrived in full Bavarian costume, the girls in pretty red, black and white dresses and the men in grey leather trousers and
shorts, wearing felt hats. They all carried large palms and flowers as it was Palm Sunday. What a sight.
We toured
Bodensee and the surrounding towns, including Lidau, a German honeymoon resort, and the Swiss side of the lake, where the
very old buildings are covered with decorative writing in black and gold. There was so much to see in this loveliest
part of Germany.
Every evening on our return from the day's wanderings, Loui was there as we entered. With a quiet
nod in the direction of the kitchen where frau Mama was engaged, he invited us into the bar for a glass of Jaegermiester,
a sort of spirit short drunk by huntsmen to ward off the cold. We imbibed not a few of those during our stay, It didn't take
many of to render the remainder of the day a dim memory when the hangover had dispersed.
When the day came to leave,
Easter was all but upon us. At breakfast we were presented with a sealed package to be opened later, on the journey. We said
our fond farewells and drove off for the long journey home. We stopped somewhere on the way, I don't remember exactly where,
and unwrapped the parcel. It consisted entirely of many hardboiled eggs, each painted in Easter colours, our reminder of a
wonderful holiday in a very beautiful country.
Max
Frost
1 Dec 2003
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