Nach Einbringen der Kartoffelernte

Nach Einbringen der Kartoffelernte wurde uns erlaubt, die Herbstferien zu Hause zu verbringen. Am Sonnabend, dem 16. September 1944, fuhren wir gemeinsam mit unserem Klassenlehrer nach Wesermünde. Es war ein warmer, sonniger Herbsttag, und ich erinnere mich des heimatlichen Wohlgefühls, das ich beim Verlassen des Bahnhofs Geestemünde empfand. Ich freute mich auf mein gemütliches Zimmer zu Hause, das ich gegen meine 4.00 qm große Kammer mit Bett und Stuhl beim Bauern tauschen konnte, und ich war der Hoffnung, dass nach Ende der Ferien der Krieg vorüber wäre und ich nicht in die Heide zurück müsste.
In dieser Hoffnung hatte ich auch alle Sachen, die mir damals gehörten, mitgenommen und räumte sie am darauf folgenden Sonntag in alle Ruhe in meinem Zimmer ein. Abends um halb zehn gab es wie immer Fliegeralarm, und wir suchten den im Hause befindlichen Luftschutzkeller auf. Montag, der 18. September 1944, war wiederum ein schöner sonniger Herbsttag, und ich genoss das Gefühl, zu Hause zu sein. Abends, gegen halb zehn, gab es wie üblich Fliegeralarm, und wir suchten zusammen mit den Hausbewohnern den Luftschutzkeller auf.
Da unser Haus in der Umgebung eines der größten und wohl stabilsten Häuser in der Umgebung war, hatte man in einem Bereich des Kellers einen sogenannten „Öffentlichen Luftschutzraum“ mit Gasschleuse, Notausgang, Feldbetten, Chemikaltoiletten und allem notwendigen Zubehör eingerichtet, der gerne von den Anwohnern des naheliegenden, sogenannten Paschviertels, in dem sich nur kleine Häuser befanden, aufgesucht wurde. Auch kamen oft Marinesoldaten, die sich in den umliegenden Gaststätten in der Ramsauer Straße oder bei Café Rehmann in der Georgstraße aufhielten, hierher. Mein Großvater war zusammen mit einem Nachbarn, Herrn Dauelsberg, als Luftschutzwart eingesetzt.
Zuerst verlief alles ganz normal, und wir nahmen an, dass der Alarm nur den nach Berlin oder Hamburg über der Deutschen Bucht einfliegenden Bomberverbänden galt. Die Männer aus dem Hause und die Marinesoldaten standen im Hof vor der Haustür, rauchten und unterhielten sich, und ich stand natürlich dabei. Die Flak schoss Sperrfeuer, und als nach kurzer Zeit der Flaksplitterregen begann, ging man in den Keller zurück.
Das Brummen der Flugzeugmotoren wurde jedoch ungewöhnlich stark, und nach kurzer Zeit hörte man die ersten Explosionen der Luftminen, die von den Bombern abgeworfen wurden, um die Dächer aufzureißen und die Häuser für den Einsatz der Brandbomben vorzubereiten. Die Türen der Gasschleusen wurden geschlossen, und man hörte die Bombeneinschläge, wobei der Kellerboden erzitterte und das Licht flackerte und erlosch. Frau Müller, die bei uns im Hause wohnte und schwerhörig war, schaute erschrocken in unsere Gesichter und fragte, ob es schlimm sei.
Das nächste fremde Geräusch war das Klacken der Stabbrandbomben rings um das Haus und das Rollen der Benzinkanister, die anscheinend auf dem Dachboden und auf dem Hof gelandet waren. Nach einiger Zeit öffnete mein Vater die Türen der Gasschleuse, und ich ging mit ihm auf den Kellergang hinaus. Alle Fenster der Mieterkeller waren von außen hell erleuchtet, es knisterte und ein starker Brandgeruch machte sich bemerkbar. Wir gingen in den Schutzraum zurück und warteten, bis die unablässigen Explosionen nachließen.
Nachdem es ruhiger geworden war, ging mein Vater aus dem Schutzraum, um die Lage zu beurteilen. Er kam zurück und sagte, dass das Haus und die Werkstatt in Flammen ständen. Eine Flucht über den Hof sei nicht möglich, da das dort gelagerte Holz, der Wagenschuppen und alle Zaunpfähle brannten. Er ging noch einmal hinaus, und ich folgte ihm in unsere Wohnung im ersten Obergeschoss. Im Treppenhaus, das aus einer hölzernen, mit Linoleum belegten Treppe bestand, fielen bereits brennende Teile bis ins Erdgeschoss. Ein Zugang zu den oberen Geschossen war nicht mehr möglich.
In unserer Wohnung im Wohnzimmer war bereits ein großes Loch in der Decke, aus dem brennende Teile auf den polierten Wohnzimmertisch fielen. Automatisch zog mein Vater den Tisch bei Seite, da er es wohl als Tischlermeister nicht mit ansehen konnte, wie sein Meisterwerk ein Raub der Flammen wurde. Er rief mir zu, ich solle versuchen, was ich an Wertsachen tragen und in den Keller bringen könnte. Ich lief in mein Zimmer, dessen Fenster keine Glasscheiben mehr hatten und wo sich die Gardinen im einsetzenden Feuersturm aufbauschten. Ich ergriff meine Schultasche und meine über alles geliebte Kodak Browny, meine 6 x 9 Foto – Box. Wir machten den Weg noch einige Male und brachten die Federbetten und andere wichtige Utensilien in den Keller hinunter.
Mein Vater forderte die anwesenden Marinesoldaten auf, mit nach oben zu kommen und retten zu helfen. Sie wagten sich einmal mit uns hinauf, und plötzlich waren sie verschwunden. Dann war uns der Weg versperrt, da mein Großvater wohl die Gefahr des brennenden Treppenhauses erkannt hatte und den öffentlichen Luftschutzraum räumen ließ. Die Leute kamen uns auf der Kellertreppe entgegen

結果 (英文) 1:

After potato harvest was allowed us to spend the autumn holiday at home. Saturday, September 16, 1944, we went with our class teacher to Wesermünde. It was a warm, sunny autumn day, and I remember the native sense of well-being that I felt at the exit of the station of Geestemünde. I looked forward to my cozy room at home that I could exchange for my 4.00 square meters Chamber with a bed and Chair with the farmer, and I was hoping that the war would be over at the end of the holiday and I would not in the Heath back.In this hope, I had taken all things which at that time belonged to me, and admitted it on the following Sunday all alone in my room. At 9: 30, there was like always air-raid warning, and we went to the air-raid shelter in the home. Monday, September 18, 1944, was in turn a beautiful sunny autumn day, and I enjoyed the feeling to be at home. In the evening, against 30, there were like common air-raid warning, and we searched for the bomb shelter together with the inhabitants of the House.Because our House in the vicinity of one of the largest and most stable in the environment was, it had established a so-called 'public shelter"with gas lock, emergency exit, cots, bottles and all necessary accessories in an area of the basement, was visited by residents of the nearby, so-called Pashtun district, where there were only small houses, like. Also, Navy soldiers who were staying in the surrounding restaurants in Ramsauer Straße or at Café Rehmann in George Street, came here often. My grandfather was, along with a neighbour, Mr Dauelsberg, used as air-raid warden.First everything was normal, and we assumed that the alarm was only after Berlin and bomber organizations flying Hamburg over the German Bight. The men of the House, and the Marines stood in the courtyard before the front door, smoked and talked, and I was of course. The flak shot barrage, and the flak splitter rain began after a short time, you went back into the cellar.The roar of aircraft engines was but unusually strong, and after a short time, you could hear the first explosion of the air mines, which were dropped by the bombers, the roofs to tear up and to prepare the buildings for the use of incendiary bombs. The doors of the gas valves were closed, and you could hear the bombs strikes, while the cellar floor shuddered and the lights flickered and went out. Mrs Müller, who lived in the House with us and was hard of hearing, looked startled at our faces and asked whether it was bad.The next strange noise was the Clunk of the bundles of incendiary bombs rings around the House, and rolling of the petrol cans, which were apparently in the attic and on the Court. After some time, my father opened the doors of the gas valve, and I went out with him in the basement corridor. All the tenants basement Windows were lit from the outside, it crackled and a strong burning smell became noticeable. We went back to the shelter and waited until the unrelenting explosions deteriorated.After it had become quiet, my father from the shelter went to assess the situation. He came back and said that the House and the workshop on fire conditions. An escape across the yard is not possible, because there bearing wood, the carriage house and all fence posts burned. He went out again, and I followed him in our apartment on the first floor. In the stairwell, which consisted of a wooden staircase with linoleum, already burning parts fell down in the ground floor. Access to the upper floors was no longer possible.In our apartment in the living room was a large hole in the ceiling from the burning parts on the polished living-room table fell. Automatically, my father the table at page, since he's probably could watch as carpenters moved as his masterpiece was burned. He called to me I should try what I could carry on valuables and bring in the basement. I ran into my room, whose Fenster had no glass and where is aufbauschten the curtains in a fire storm. I took my schoolbag and mean about all beloved Kodak Hayley, my 6 x 9 Photo - box. We made the way several times and brought down the feather beds and other essentials in the basement.My father asked the present marine soldiers, to come up with and to help save. They ventured even with us up, and suddenly they were gone. Then the way was US blocked, because my grandfather had probably recognized the danger of the burning staircase and give the public shelter left. The people came to meet us on the basement stairs

結果 (英文) 3:

having put the potato harvest was allowed us the special home to spend. on saturday, 16. september 1944, we went together with our teacher to wesermünde. it was a warm, sunny day, and i remember the home some time i when i left the train station, geestemünde said. i was looking forward to my room at home, i with my 4 sqm house with bed and chair of the farmers exchange was, and i was hoping that after the end of the holidays of the war is over and that i should not in the heather back.in this hope, i had all the things i was then picked up and acknowledged, on the following sunday, all alone in my room. in the evening at half past ten there was always an air raid, and we were looking for in the home or shelter. monday, 18. in september 1944, was again a beautiful sunny day, and i enjoyed the feeling of being at home. in the evening, at about half past ten, there was, as usual, an air raid, and we were looking for, together with the hausbewohnern the bomb shelter.because our house in the vicinity of one of the largest and most houses in the area, it was in an area of the basement of a so-called public luftschutzraum "with gasschleuse, emergency exit, cots, chemikaltoiletten and all necessary accessories, established by the residents of the nearby to so-called paschviertels, in which only small houses were visited. also, often the marines, in the nearby restaurants in the street or in rehmann ramsauer cafe in the georgstraße staying here. my grandpa was with a neighbour, mr dauelsberg as luftschutzwart used.first, it was quite normal, and we assumed that the alarm only after berlin and hamburg for the german book einfliegenden bomberverbänden was applied. the men from the home, and the marines were in the yard outside the front door, smoking and chatting, and i was, of course. the flak shot barrage, and after a short period of time, the flaksplitterregen began, it was in the basement.the hum of the engines, however, was unusually strong, and after a short period of time, we heard the first explosion in the blockbuster bombs which were dropped by the bombers, the roofs off houses and for the use of incendiary bombs to prepare. the doors of the gasschleusen were closed, and we heard the bombeneinschläge, with the kellerboden trembled and the lights flickered and went out. mrs muller, in the house lived and deaf, looked shocked in our faces, and asked if there is bad.the next external noise was the clacking of stabbrandbomben around the house and the roles of the gas can, which appear in the attic and landed on the farm. after some time my father opened the doors of the gasschleuse and i went with him to the basement. all the windows were from outside the mieterkeller brightly lit, electricity and a strong brandgeruch was apparent. we went to the shelter back and waited for the continuous explosions level declined.after i calmed down, my dad went out of the shelter, in order to assess the situation. he came back and said that the house and the garage were in flames. a run on the court was not possible because the stored wood, the chariot house and all the posts were burned. he once again went out, and i followed him into the apartment on the first floor. in the stairwell, a wooden staircase was occupied with linoleum, were already burning parts to the ground. access to the upper shoot was no longer possible.in our apartment in the living room already was a big hole in the ceiling, from the burning parts on the polished table fell. automatically moved my father the table in page, since it seems to be tischlermeister not been able to look at how his masterpiece a robbery of the flames. he called to me, i should try to wear what valuables in the basement could bring. i ran up to my room, whose window glass had not, and where the curtains in the onset of firestorm aufbauschten. i grabbed my bag and my over all beloved kodak browny, 6 x 9 photo box. we made the way several times and brought the feather beds and other important equipment down to the cellar.my father asked the us marines, coming up to help and save. they ventured once with us up, and suddenly, they were gone. then the cut off, since my grandfather the danger of burning stairwells was recognised and the public luftschutzraum rooms left. people came to the basement en