Thanks. Remarkably, that Ocean crossing was fairly typical for a young Army family. It was simply cheaper to send families by ship than fly. My father was a young officer so we had slightly better accommodations than an enlisted person. Plus the obligation to dress up.
The military tended to move families every 3 years or so. In my third grade, i was in three different schools. This happened because we moved to a new assignment when he got orders to Vietnam, so we had to move the family again soon after arrival. Not terribly unusual for the military but strange to a civilian. Military brats have a shared experience.
A couple of memories from traveling. On the first trip over (not this one), my brother was snatched back from trying to climb out a porthole window. I think that was on the Rose or Buckner, military transports that weren't as nice as the United States. My mother complained that families were allowed 30 mins to eat and weren't allowed food in the cabins. My younger brother didn't want to eat during the appointed half hour so my mother was forced to sneak milk into the cabin. The military had its rules and expected babies to comply.
We were stationed in Germany from about 63 to 66, and again from about 68 to 72. For background, my mother was born in Germany and left in 1945 when she was 12. That is a long story. But the point here is that she spoke German so we may have had a different experience than perhaps some military families. For example, my father had a German civilian who worked for him. He became a friend of the family, so much so that my wife and I visited him decades later. He was a German fighter pilot during the war who flew ME fighters and transport planes. At the end of the war, he landed his plane and just walked away, but not before removing his clock or altimeter (I can't remember which. He had it on his bookshelf when we visited his house.) When the US Army arrived, they made him help with administration. After awhile, he became an official employee of the Dept of Defense, which is how he ended up working for my father.
He entered before the war, which meant he had a full training. He told us this was how he likely survived. Later in the war he would see young guys show up and be gone the next day. The somewhat funny story that any military person will appreciate is that right after he got his wings, he buzzed low over his town. Unfortunately for him, an officer was on leave and noted his numbers on his plane. His pay was docked for the duration of the war. Here the Germans desperately needed pilots and this guy was being fined the whole time. Looking back, I realized there were likely a lot of ex-military and Nazis everywhere. It's amazing what Germany has become since then.
Last story. During our second trip, we were stationed in Frankfurt. My Dad was a Scoutmaster and we took our Scout trip to Berlin on a train. I was about 11. Because we went through East Germany, we were supposed to keep the curtains closed. Of course we peeked out. It was strange to see guards with machine guns at the train stops. Once in Berlin, we visited Check Point Charley and the wall. It makes an impression on you. From Germany we moved to New Jersey, where no one else had a parent in the Army. My Dad left for his second tour to Vietnam, which nobody in our town could relate to. In fact, my mother attended a parent teacher conference for my brother and the teacher said my brother had a problem with lying. When my mother asked why, the teacher said it was because he said he was from Germany, which of course he was since we just moved from there. He hated that teacher after that.
Dad also had a boy scout troop in Vietnam (he served two tours.) We used to send scarves and patches back and forth between New Jersey and Saigon. I found lots of pictures after he died. He wasn't the same after that experience. That's another long story.
Thanks for asking and reading. It's hard to condense a life into a brief post. I hope I was able to give you a flavor of what it was like. I suspect other military brats will be able to relate.
Cheers,
Dave
