The YEARS Tyll Graduated
Tyll Graduated from High School and Mom was horrified about the prospect of him going into the army and being sent into war- she saw her husband's future happening to her son- he might just disappear. Tyll was now an American citizen, and everyday the counts came in over the news from the Viet Nam War. She feared for his very existence. Tyll seemed not concerned, and decided to go to college at UC, which made him ineligible for the draft for the time being. Mom was relieved, but still worried every minute for his grades. The first time his grades were not passing they went to the recruiters. Apparently you could enlist, and then choose your career or where you would be sent. Mom was OK with that, and Tyll was ready to go.
Tyll enlisted and chose to go to Germany. He became a translator, because of his fluent knowledge of German, a Chaplain's assistant. He traveled throughout Germany, met his relatives on time off..
One summer Mom and I flew to Germany, where Tyll met us in a silver sports car, and we three spent several weeks visiting relatives,driving all through Germany. Mom had the passenger seat, and I sat on the battery in the back, as the car had NO back seat!
Luckily no trip was too long, as Germany is approximately the size of OHIO top to bottom (at the time I am speaking of Western Germany. It was later The Wall came down.)
WE decided on a short trip into Italy, and I noticed the language was very similar to French, my field of study. Especially in Northern Italy, you add "uh" to the end of the French word, and it sounds like Italian. Tyll asked me to try to find out where the road to the next town was. I thought, "Why not give it a try?" So at the next corner there were three men sitting on chairs smoking, in loose shirts, dark pants, unshaven, and I asked in a French-ish way, where this town might be- and they answered. To the best of my ability I translated to Tyll, and off we sped. The roads in Italy are the width of one car. They are cobblestone, and they curve back and forth around the buildings, so we were quite surprised to find ourselves, twenty minutes later driving past, SAME three men at same corner. Tyll says, "Ask again. " Okay, I do, and try to see what I got wrong. OH, I say, we were supposed to go straight, not turn at that house. We drive off, in a cloud of dust as Tyll is wont to say. Twenty minutes later, same corner, same men. Tyll suggests. "Don't Ask. They Think we are just Crazy Americans." Without directions we did finally get to the place we wanted to go.
We toured Venice and rode in a gondola. However, Mom had a few choice words when the gondolier, put his pole down right after we sat down in the gondola, and uncovered a 25 horsepower Evinrude motor slung onto the side of the boat, and whisked us through the canals, under the bridge of tears, and around past St. Mark's Place. "No wonder they have trouble with erosion and waves. The motor boats and tourists have invaded!"
Tyll had aso written some interesting newpapers while in Germany, which I can no longer find. His cartoons were hilarious, and his drawing amazing. He did begin parachute jumping while in Germany, as well as airplane gliding, and brought his love of both these sports back home with him when he returned at the end of his army days.
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| Tyll 1962 |
Tyll enlisted and chose to go to Germany. He became a translator, because of his fluent knowledge of German, a Chaplain's assistant. He traveled throughout Germany, met his relatives on time off..
One summer Mom and I flew to Germany, where Tyll met us in a silver sports car, and we three spent several weeks visiting relatives,driving all through Germany. Mom had the passenger seat, and I sat on the battery in the back, as the car had NO back seat!
 |
| Mom smiling from front seat, me sitting side saddle in the back |
Luckily no trip was too long, as Germany is approximately the size of OHIO top to bottom (at the time I am speaking of Western Germany. It was later The Wall came down.)
WE decided on a short trip into Italy, and I noticed the language was very similar to French, my field of study. Especially in Northern Italy, you add "uh" to the end of the French word, and it sounds like Italian. Tyll asked me to try to find out where the road to the next town was. I thought, "Why not give it a try?" So at the next corner there were three men sitting on chairs smoking, in loose shirts, dark pants, unshaven, and I asked in a French-ish way, where this town might be- and they answered. To the best of my ability I translated to Tyll, and off we sped. The roads in Italy are the width of one car. They are cobblestone, and they curve back and forth around the buildings, so we were quite surprised to find ourselves, twenty minutes later driving past, SAME three men at same corner. Tyll says, "Ask again. " Okay, I do, and try to see what I got wrong. OH, I say, we were supposed to go straight, not turn at that house. We drive off, in a cloud of dust as Tyll is wont to say. Twenty minutes later, same corner, same men. Tyll suggests. "Don't Ask. They Think we are just Crazy Americans." Without directions we did finally get to the place we wanted to go.
We toured Venice and rode in a gondola. However, Mom had a few choice words when the gondolier, put his pole down right after we sat down in the gondola, and uncovered a 25 horsepower Evinrude motor slung onto the side of the boat, and whisked us through the canals, under the bridge of tears, and around past St. Mark's Place. "No wonder they have trouble with erosion and waves. The motor boats and tourists have invaded!"
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| Zell am See, Austria, where Tyll got his gliding license |
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