Steady as she goes E-Book

Helmut Lucka

• Herausgeber: novum publishing
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 1154

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

A story could not begin more ingloriously. Young Willi Lenz is bored at school and tries to cover up his lack of preparation with a fever. When he is caught stealing, he is expelled from school. There are also problems in the family because the father is building a house on his own with the help of his sons' labor. While his friends spend the weekend at the disco, Willi is "allowed" to work on the building site. Eventually, the idea of attending a ship's boy's school matures in him. The theoretical training is followed by two years of practical training on the ship MS "Fryga". This is followed by exciting adventures on deck, but also many professional insights into seafaring and the so-called "economic miracle era".

Leseprobe

Steady as she goes

Disclaimer

Dear reader!

This story is partly based on true facts and experiences of the author himself. In order to protect the personal rights of those involved and companions, the names of all people appearing have been changed and fictionalized.

Only the teachers and employees of the public institution “Seemännische Berufsfachschule Elsfleth/Weser” are mentioned with their real names. They are legendary for the highly qualified basic training of an entire generation of seafarers, giving them the tools they needed to enter the tough seafaring profession.

Left school in 1968

The rays of the warm spring sun shone brightly through the thick panes of the large windows into the dusty classroom of 9A. Unhindered, they made their shimmering path past the heavy beige curtains directly onto Willi's left cheek.

Damn hot for this time of year, he thought, and his head, supported only by his right hand, became heavier and heavier. His leaden eyelids behaved in a similar way, closing uncontrollably at regular intervals; he hadn't been so tired for a long time!

Blinking through his half-closed eyes, he spotted countless grains of dust. They danced merrily in a particularly bright beam of sunlight, which interrupted the desolate green of the dark blackboard with a bright green stripe.

It was the religion lesson! Secondary school teacher Paul Gruner, secretly called Paul for short by the pupils because of his pious nature, tried diligently to teach the students the time-honoured Bible texts. In a monotone voice, he occasionally looked over the thick rims of his horn-rimmed glasses. Even bored, he read line after line from his notebook. The leather cover had certainly had to endure the greasy marks of his sausage fingers for many years. The consistent sounding rhythm of the sentences delivered from the teacher's puffy face seemed to Willi as if a priest was preaching from the pulpit. He often caught himself falling asleep briefly and then hiding his heavy head again. The sweaty handprint on the right side of his face would be proof of this boring religious lesson.

Volker isn't feeling any better either, he was silently pleased when his eyes fell on the person sitting next to him at the table. He was lying mirror-inverted, with his head resting on his left arm, half his upper body on the tabletop and apparently listening reverently to the teacher's pious outpourings. Like Willi, he was almost half asleep. But the school friend was constantly in danger of slipping to the left over the edge of the table and falling into the middle aisle between the rows of benches.

Willi looked past Volker with a sleepy look at a little sparrow that was fluffy and a little overzealously hopping on the flower box in front of the window, looking for food. Every now and then the warm spring wind hit his feathers with a gust and puffed them up further. Looking around frantically, he pecked at the barren potting soil with his beak.

Does he really think he'll find a worm in the dry box, Willi doubted, his thoughts far removed from his teacher's lecture. Maybe the birdie is warmer in the protection of the window than elsewhere? The question occupied the student's mind and caused him to wander even further from the lesson.

He's doing well! If he doesn't like it here anymore, he takes off and just keeps flying! Whoosh – he was gone! Before Willi could finish his thoughts with a tired, loud yawn, he looked wistfully after the departing bird. Getting smaller and smaller, he disappeared behind the bare branches of the poplar crowns at the edge of the schoolyard, shimmering wetly in the early sunlight!

“Lenz! – – – Lenz! – – – Wilfried Lenz!” As if from a very far distance, the threatening voice came into Willi’s free ear and, frightened, he turned his gaze to the desk, directly into his teacher’s fat face, distorted with anger.

"Stand up! – – – Get up!” the excited voice continued to order, “repeat my last sentence!” Light giggles from the rows of girls now enlivened the classroom and, ashamed, Willi's gaze wandered over his classmates until he stopped questioning Volker. He pressed his lips together and turned away with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Wilfried Lenz – tell me a summary of the last chapter of my lecture! Where was I last standing?” Paul stood up heavily from his teacher’s chair and menacingly approached the first row of tables!

“In front of the desk!” the pupil caught almost said in shock, but at the last moment Willi was able to stop himself from saying this. This impudence would inevitably have led to a written reprimand with an entry in the class register.

The perplexed shrugging of the shoulders from the person sitting next to him clearly indicated that no help could be expected from Volker. Unconsciously, as is often the case in hopeless situations, the saving idea quickly grew in Willi.

“Excuse me, Mr. Gruner,” he pressed in a tormented, trembling voice deep in his chest, “I feel very sick!” He slowly rose lazily from his chair, his arms crossed in his abdomen. He stood slightly bent over and swaying as if he would lose his balance at any moment! “I really don’t feel well!”

Teeth chattering, he put so much suffering into his facial expression that even his mother would have believed he had a moderate fever. “May I go to the toilet?”

Without waiting for an answer, Willi quickly rushed through the rows of astonished classmates. With his hands still crossed protectively over his stomach, he ran towards the classroom door, ignoring the doubtful looks of the completely astonished teacher.

Unfortunately, Reinhold Bolte, the person sitting next to him at the table in the front row of students, had stretched out his long legs in a resting position, which Willi frantically overlooked. He stumbled but was able to catch himself with his right hand on the wall. He clapped his hand into the house rules that were hanging next to the exit. This set of rules, framed in glass and hated by all the students, shattered loudly when it hit the floor.

“What's wrong with him?” The teacher's sonorous voice sounded seriously concerned from the classroom behind him. With a flourish, Willi hastily slammed the door of Class 9A behind him.

“Done -, - - Thank God!” Relieved, the student leaned his back against the smooth, shiny, cold wall of the long corridor and took a deep breath. His eyes were glued to the classroom door - but nothing happened! He was surprised to see that the door remained closed!

The smell of floor wax came sharply into his nostrils, that unique and typically familiar smell of sparklingly clean post-war school buildings. There was still no movement in the long, narrow hallway that connected the ninth and tenth grades. This hallway led to the administration wing to the left. Willi looked anxiously back at the classroom door.

Still nothing! – No movement, no crunching noise from the chair being moved, which would suggest that the hated teacher was chasing after him. He was relieved and extremely proud of his idea with the saving stomach cramps. Smiling, he hurried on through the dark hallway towards the stairwell, towards the safe exit!

“Realschule an der Schillerstrasse” was written in large bronze letters on the red brick wall above the entrance portal. The focus of the teaching in this modern school was on “real” subjects such as sports, art and crafts!

With this offer of creative design options, the curriculum differed significantly from the regular middle school of the 1960s. Headmaster Dr. Dr. Löscher never forgot to emphasize this difference, which was so important to him, in his welcoming speeches. In keeping with the spirit of the teachers at this school, pupil could paint and do artistic crafts in the well-equipped workrooms. Willi liked the art lessons. For five years he had been able to freely express his lively fantasies here in the form of well-regarded pictures and delicate work pieces. To the delight of his full-figured art teacher, Mrs. Dr. Weinhold, Willi was always able to stand out from the crowd of his classmates in this subject thanks to his extraordinary creativity! How much he had always enjoyed it when she, with her large breasts bent benevolently over his shoulders, helped to improve one or two strokes! “So we’re getting closer to a grade one for this picture!” she had breathed into his ear. She stood close behind his back and patted his shoulder with her left hand. Visiblyembarrassed, he had had to endure this well-intentioned help too often, blushing shyly, much to the delight of his smirking classmates. He was embarrassed, but a good grade in the art subject could help improve his otherwise lousy grade point average! However, his favourite subject was geography. He followed the lectures of the popular, always correctly dressed principal with great interest. With a bright red bow tie in front of his crisp white shirt collar, Dr. Dr. Löscher had a distinct way of conveying dry subject matter to his students in an exciting way. Using a meter-long cane made with a red tip, he emphasized the incredible economic importance of geography on a huge map. He continually hit his own palm or the display material hanging on the stand with his stick.

Willi had always been interested in which country extracted raw materials, where and how this mass of goods was delivered and how industrial nations like Germany knew how to use them productively! Right now, towards the end of the 1960s, the internationally recognized “German economic miracle” was deepening in the consciousness of the German population.

Former Chancellor Ludwig Erhard, as the Federal Republic's first economics minister, showed himself to be the father of the success in the social market economy and its impact on the rapid economic rise of this young republic in the difficult years of the post-war period.

His picture, printed in all the newspapers, with the big cigar in his mouth, symbolized the industrial hard work of this aspiring nation! However, Willi had no idea at the time how closely his professional career would be linked to these lessons!

Twelve classrooms were located in the left wing of the L-shaped school building. These were spread over three floors with four classes on each floor. The young students in the fifth and sixth grades began their entry into this type of schooling on the ground floor after completing elementary school. With hard work and discipline, they were able to “work their way up” to the tenth grade over the course of six school years. If they were smart and well-adjusted and also enjoyed the “goodwill” of their teachers, the three floors could be negotiated smoothly. The final goal was then class 10A or 10B to achieve secondary school entrance qualification. The B classes were mostly made up of city children and the A classes were filled by those from the surrounding villages. These were many refugee children or children of farmers from the farms around the city. Every morning, they travelled by bus or bicycle from the rural area to the vibrant industrial town of Delmenhorst to their school.

Past long rows of coats, jackets and anoraks with bobble hats hanging on dull coat hooks, Willi carefully crept further down the long corridor.

He passed class 10A. Sadly and a little melancholy, he thought of his classmates in this class from the last school year. Together with Reinhold Bolte and André Peters, he was not transferred at Easter; they “stayed behind!”

Suddenly he noticed a very strange tingling sensation in the area around his stomach.

In the completely deserted hallway, his eyes fell on the last coat hook for class 10B.

A grey-green parka hung there, wide open. A thick leather wallet protruded enticingly from the lining. Shining black, illuminated by the light from the hallway windows, it pressed into Willi's eyes, foreboding but nevertheless attractive.

This is the opportunity, he thought excitedly, and he felt his heart beating harder and harder.

Two more steps, a targeted quick grab - his heart was racing! He looked uncertainly into the long corridor behind him. Nothing! – Nobody was in sight; nobody could stop him! With a jerk he pulled the wallet out of the inside pocket of the stranger's jacket.

Loud, violent scraping from inside Class 10B suddenly broke the tense silence in the hallway. It sounded like a chair was being moved and a student was coughing violently!

Has anyone seen me? The youngster who was supposedly caught was overcome with panic.

“That’s theft – comrade theft!” he whispered bashfully to himself.

With his pulse racing, he hastily rushed towards the protective stairwell with his prey.

The glass wings of the wide connecting door at the end of the corridor slammed loudly into their black rubber seals. Terribly frightened by his own actions, he took a deep breath. He looked back through the glass into the long corridor - but nothing! – Nothing moved – there was still no student or teacher to be seen!

As if being chased by vicious dogs, he rushed down the stairs, sometimes jumping down to three steps in one go. He kept the stolen goods carefully hidden under his cardigan with his left hand. With his right hand he pulled himself along the banister through the curves of the many intermediate landings. On the ground floor, past the empty counter for drinks during breaks, he reached the exit to the schoolyard downstairs, completely out of breath. He examined the escape route to the attached toilet block. “Holy shit!”

Horrified, he recognized the caretaker through the windows of the heavy exit door. Whistling a cheerful song, he was sweeping the stony intermediate platform that connected the high main building with the flat toilet block. Mr. Schreiber patiently bent down every now and then in the endless battle against heavily sticky chewing gum and the silver paper of this popular American-made chewing gum that was flying everywhere.

Willi felt his blood rush to the tips of his feet and his knees began to tremble uncontrollably again. His current complexion would have perfectly matched his acting performance just a few minutes ago in the 9A classroom. He carefully opened the exit door.

“Good morning, Mr. Schreiber,” he forced himself to greet, pale with shock, and the fear of discovering his crime was transferred to his voice.

He stuttered and his fingers convulsively clawed at the treacherous leather of the other person's wallet under his cardigan. He took another deep breath.

With deliberately calm and controlled slow steps, he forced his way past the caretaker.

He managed to reach the entrance door to the student toilets unmolested and safely.

“Hello, hello!” the caretaker greeted back in a friendly manner, but the student no longer heard that. Anxious and in a terrible state of panic, Willi had long since turned the lock in the last toilet cell.

“Occupied” could be read on the red background with black letters on the rotary fitting!

“Quiet, stay calm!” Breathing heavily, he leaned with his back against the wooden door and placed one foot on the edge of the toilet seat. The shock-coloured bright red of his stocking was revealed. Somehow it had a somewhat calming effect on the confused student.

Here in the small cell, here he was safe, here he felt comfortable, here he had smoked his first cigarette not long ago, suffering from a severe cough and nausea.

Here in this narrow space that smelled of urine behind the light grey walls, painted with countless expressions of love from pubescent students, here behind the tightly closed door - here he felt security in a closed, protected area.

“Damn!” In his haste he forgot to check the neighbouring cells. Were they all empty? He held his breath tensely and strained to listen to the silence. No, nothing was heard!

No noises, no shuffling footsteps, no tearing of paper, no rattling of the tin roll holders - nothing! Only the caretaker's whistle sounded softly from outside.

Willi was alone in the toilet block. He released the breath he had been holding with relief. As always, he had instinctively chosen the last cell in the row of toilets, the one at the back with the small, frosted glass window in the upper third of the outer wall. He was able to open it and the incoming fresh air washed away the acrid smell of urine. Full of curiosity, Willi examined the stolen wallet in his hiding place.

He nervously rummaged through the compartments, searching through the contents.

“Was the excitement worth it?” he asked himself quietly.

A comb was in the front part of the leather case. Vain fool thought Willi. He continued searching with slightly shaking hands. There was a “student monthly ticket” for the Federal Railway hidden under a transparent film! “Class 10B” – he could see the official stamp and the signature of the robbed student on the ticket.

“An unlucky guy from the city!” Sarcastic satisfaction washed over him. At least he hadn't stolen from a local school friend. He continued rummaging through the compartments of the stranger's wallet.

At that time, it was not only the students who carefully differentiated between rural and city children and differentiated themselves from each other, but also apparently the entire teaching staff. This was called “equal opportunities” in the education system, the socialist contribution of the SPD in the grand coalition under Chancellor Kurt -Georg Kiesinger.

Willi slowly opened the zipper of the coin purse carefully. A little disappointed that he hadn't found any banknotes, he then discovered a large five-mark piece, another one-mark piece and three groschen.

“A full bunch of drinks for the boys is guaranteed!” he stated happily to himself. In his excitement he almost dropped the one-mark piece into the toilet bowl. He was unashamedly looking forward to his usual daily meeting at the nearby kiosk after school. Next to the small sales hatch there was a cozy niche with an old wooden bench. You could always take a breather and chat with your friends undisturbed on the bench and other folding chairs!

Let's see how amazed the boys are later when I spend a round of drinks and the money also includes a few cigarettes for them! His mind raced with anticipation of being able to play the generous Croesus later.

“What rubbish!” He was horrified to discover an ID card in the pocket of his wallet.

His respect for official papers once again brought beads of fear to his wrinkled brow. He excitedly opened the official document.

“Look at that big fat guy from Düsternort!”

Willi knew his victim and the glee that arose dried the sweat on his face. He stared spellbound at the passport photo; He calmed himself with relief.

The danger of him being discovered by this clumsy is low, he thought arrogantly and continued searching. “Oh, what do we have here?” he whispered quietly.

He quickly pulled the hidden green twenty-mark note out of the back passport case. Extremely delighted, this discovery almost made him scream out loud with joy.

"Guys! “It’s going to be a celebration,” he cheered quietly, but still composed, “they’ll be amazed!”

He thought about his best friends. To Reinhold Bolte, the tallest and most beautiful in the class. With his magnificent curly hair, he was the crush of every girl. They called him “Taschi” because of his great ability to throw a pocketknife so precisely that it was guaranteed to get stuck. He generally won competitions in knife throwing. Willi had called him “half-blood Indian” because of his slightly darker skin colour, which clearly indicated that he had ancestors from southern countries.

To André Peters, “wannabe” disc jockey and, by his own admission, “woman hero”. He knew almost all the “Beatles” lyrics by heart, and he would always sing them out in a weak, girlish voice when no one wanted to hear them!

Anyone who wanted to trade records called for “Andy”. Despite being only fifteen years old, he was sometimes allowed to perform at “Bonanza” in the afternoons. He loved and enjoyed this temporary job at this famous discotheque; much to the distress of his parents, who found him less and less at home. He dressed like his idols and fell into shaking ecstasy with a microphone in his hand. The white shoulder boards on his light blue uniform jacket, temporarily sewn on by his sister, were very reminiscent of Paul McCartney on the record sleeve of “Sergeant Pepper”!

They shone brightly and danced with him in the flickering disco spotlight. He wore this beloved jacket on his slight frame at every opportunity. His thick black hair formed a fashionable mushroom head that Willi secretly admired. Only the eternally pale and narrow face didn't fit in with the lush hairstyle.

“Andy where is your hat going with you?” was just one of the many sayings from envious classmates who nevertheless swarmed around him like flies around dog poop!

The three of them failed to get promoted to 10A last Easter and together they had to make the painful and embarrassing journey to the lower class. It's clear that something like this connects people.

When this group of “repeaters” ended up in the new class together, they had formed a kind of protective community against bullying hostility from their younger classmates.

However, they quickly gained the proper respect of the class through physical superiority; Because unity is strength - and they were always united, no matter what happened!

The three were only truly accepted into the new class community when Volker, the elected class representative of 9A, acknowledged them. His word in the class counted and only he had the power to overturn the collective rejection of the foreign “newcomers”.

Demonstratively, he simply sat down in the front row with them. The four of them now controlled the class from the front; placed right next to the entrance, always securing the escape route against any teacher arbitrariness!

The resounding, shrill ringing of the break bell suddenly broke the eerie silence in the toilet block. The heavy steel door slammed repeatedly into its frame with a loud clatter. Crowds of students rushed into the toilet to get rid of their accumulated needs.

Loud chatter from the boys mingled with the banging noises of cell doors closing and the gurgling of toilets flushing. Willi jumped in fright in his cell when someone shook his door violently from outside. He hastily stuffed the money into his pocket.

Where to put the damn wallet, he thought in a panic, desperately searching for a way to get rid of this treacherous remnant of his loot.

He was relieved to hear Volker's familiar voice.

“Willie? – eh Willi!” The door handle was pressed down violently. “Eh, you plum! - Say something!"

“Shut up, I'm almost done!” Willi's short answer boomed out over the babble of students' voices from the small, grey cubicle. Willi carefully tried to silently open the small ventilation window in the upper third of the wall. He managed to do it unnoticed. He threw the strange wallet in a high arc through the window into the adjacent garden of a neighbouring house.

A high hornbeam hedge separated this carefully tended vegetable plot from the school grounds about two meters away. He was absolutely certain that he had overcome this distance with his successful throw.

Hopefully no one will find it, he thought with relief and silently closed the window again.

“Paul sends me how you’re doing and stuff! Do you have to puke?” The friend’s worried voice echoed through the tiled room. He banged on the cell door again.

“Just open the door!” – “What’s going on?”

“Everything that isn’t tied down!” echoed loudly from within and Volker had to grin. He had correctly assessed his friend's condition. He heard the flushing water rushing into the toilet bowl. The door opened and the supposedly sick friend punched him in the shoulder with a mischievous smile.

“Awesome idea, you fell for it too!” Willi laughed at his astonished friend, demanding applause, and demonstratively pulled up the zipper from his trouser fly.

"Nonsense, that’s bollocks, if you've vomited, you should contact Paulus immediately!"

Volker stepped aside with a grin and gave way to the dirty sinks. Willi washed his hands in disgust and slapped them in the air to dry them.

“What else does the asshole want from me?” Thoughtful and worried, he tilted his head searchingly.

There were no towels in school toilets for legitimate reasons of hygiene. He reflexively reached into his trouser pocket with his right hand. On the one hand, to dry it properly, and on the other hand, to check whether the loot was still safely stored. It felt incredibly good to crumple the bill in my hand! “Twenty-six marks thirty!”

Excited he finished the inspection with quiet satisfaction - no trace of a guilty conscience!

“What do I know!” Shaking his head, Volker shrugged his shoulders and, as usual, nervously chewed on a non-existent piece of chewing gum in his mouth. “Perhaps he has a few more pious sayings for you!” He casually underlined this remark with a friendly punch to Willis’ chest, adopting his typical posture. With his head slightly bent back and his eyelids half-closed, he assessed the increasingly white face of his counterpart.

“Scared, huh?” Without even the slightest inkling of his friend’s worries and fears, he summed up Willi’s feelings!

The shrill ringing of the break bell rang again, which was unmistakably reminiscent of the nerve-racking noise of many bicycle bells being activated at the same time. The big break began, and the students crowded in front of the milk and cocoa dispenser.

Volker and Willi had long since left the crowded toilet room and were pushing their way through the masses of students rushing to the break area. They walked past the fifth and sixth classes in the basement together towards the teachers' room.

They leisurely crossed the long corridor, filled with the loud shouts of the younger students, who were pushing each other and laughing. Everyone happy to be able to get away from class for twenty minutes.

During long breaks in dry weather, students must leave the school building immediately! That's what it said in paragraph seven of the school regulations. How many times Willi had to copy this paragraph as a punishment!

Through the large foyer with the impressive main entrance and a window front that extends over three floors, the two reached the second wing of the school building, which is assigned at right angles. Past the wide, massive spiral staircase in the reception hall, they no longer met any students here, because the administration wing was only allowed to be entered for an important reason or in an emergency. They walked briskly past the secretariat on the ground floor with the adjacent director's office. The flared trouser legs of her modern bell-bottoms clapped together in rhythm with her gait and echoed through the semi-darkness of the empty corridor. On the left side was the drawing room and at the end of the corridor was the entrance to the workroom. The pungent smell of paint filled their nostrils. To the right was the spacious teachers' room and next to it was the conference room.

“You knock!” Willi nudged his companion. He was visibly trying to put on a painful expression again and pointed to the door to the teacher's lounge.

Patiently chewing on his imaginary chewing gum, Volker couldn't suppress his grin: "Still crazy - or what?"

He laughed, visibly pleased at his friend's spectacle. He knocked violently on the door and tilted his head forward, listening for an answer from inside. Nothing moved!

“It would have been nice to have a smoke now!” he remarked quietly, languishing to himself, and knocked again a little more forcefully.

The door opened and Miss Engelbart, the slim, pretty English teacher, appeared in front of them. Leaning slightly forward, preventing a clear view of the staff room, she lightly touched Volker's shoulder.

“Who do you want to see – who do you want to talk to?”

She smiled and looked at Willi, who melted under her gaze. English was his favourite subject! Since the fifth grade, he had been able to successfully defend a good grade in his report card. On the one hand, this was due to his affection for the young, attractive teacher, but on the other hand, it was probably also due to his talent for foreign languages.

“Paulu… – er, Mr. Gruner!” Volker stammered, visibly embarrassed.

The amazed teacher's smile turned into loud, uninhibited laughter. After all, she also knew the nickname of the generally unpopular religion teacher, used by almost all students. Leaning one hand on the door handle, she turned and called for what she asked for. “Mr. Gruner – please! Two of your students from 9A!”

Willi found it increasingly difficult to continue pretending to be suffering abdominal pain. Smiling strangely bashfully, Miss Engelbart hurried back to her seat.

The boys heard chairs being moved; However, they did not dare to take a look into this venerable room. Anyone who stepped over this threshold as a student usually only had to expect disaster!

Either he had to justify to the assembled teaching staff about his violations of the school rules or he was given unpleasant additional tasks for “social responsibility”.

They called it a “conference” – it was called whenever a student had three reprimands. Three reprimands, which meant that the person concerned received three entries in the universally hated class register per school year.

There were enough reasons for such an entry; Being late, skipping class, leaving the schoolyard without permission, smoking in secret, disrupting class and much more!

The two of them took a step back in awe while Mr. Gruner approached.

Willi pressed his arms into his stomach again. With a slightly bent posture, he hoped for pity and pardon from the teacher. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a shadow approaching from the bright light of the window at the end of the long hallway.

“Well boys, what are you doing here?” With an unmistakably Bavarian accent, Mr. Pfaffenhofer's sonorous, threatening voice reached the intimidated students’ ears.

He was their music and class teacher and as such he naturally felt responsible for them both. His ironic sarcasm was feared, and most students wondered why they, of all people, were being punished here in the far north with this “original Bavarian” from the southern province . “Don't you enjoy your breaks?” the teacher said with the tattered briefcase under his arm. Without waiting for an answer, he pushed past the students and almost collided with Paulus as he entered the teachers' room!

“Careful, dear Colleague!” the offended man whispered through a closed mouth and pushed his broad, bushy eyebrows together angrily. He placed his right hand confidentially on Willis' shoulder. “Please come with me, Wilfried,” he calmly turned to the supposedly “sick” student. “Thank you, Volker! You may go now!” With a dismissive wave of his hand, he showed Volker the way out.

“In there, please!” Mr. Gruner pointed to the door to the visitors’ room, which was between the teacher’s room and the secretary’s office. Plagued by bad premonitions, Willi let himself be pushed into the narrow room. The teacher sat down behind the clunky, plain desk.

He motioned for the student to sit in the visitor's chair opposite. He let himself fall into the padded back of his chair. He piously folded his hands in front of his protruding stomach and examined his intimidated protégé with icy silence over the rim of his horn-rimmed glasses. The stolen money in Willi's pocket now became heavy as lead and the guilty conscience seemed to literally climb into his face. He had never experienced anything good in this room. He last sat here with his mother after that last parent-teacher conference.

The director had spoken of “great danger of being transferred into the next class”, but also of “hard work” and “hope”. How grateful Mother's eyes shone afterwards. But all efforts had been in vain, the transfer to 10A at the end of the school year had not taken place!

Willi felt the same discomfort as back then. Friedrich Schiller, who gave this school its name, was still staring down with pity at the afflicted student from his oil painting on the side wall. There was a threat in the air and the inner tension threatened to tear Willi apart.

The teacher cleared his throat and laboriously pulled a cloth out of his pocket. He calmly took his glasses off his nose and breathed on them. With exaggerated composure he cleaned the lenses, breathed on them again and repeated the cleaning process.

His face white as lime, Willi shifted nervously back and forth in his chair; he reached the edge of his control. With a furtive sideways glance at the fidgeting student, the teacher slowly pushed his glasses back onto his nose. Oh yeah! He enjoyed this moment. Too often he had to be annoyed by this “bully” in class.

“I gave you another entry in the class register,” he said calmly, adjusting the fit of his glasses again. "It's now the third entry this school year, so you'll be back in front of the teachers' conference!" He leaned forward slowly and supported himself on the chunky black desktop with his arms folded.

“Did you really believe that I would accept your disruptive class comedy from before without comment? Do you really think that your “incredible drama” could have convinced me that you was sick and supposedly unwell?"

He stared meaningfully at his student.

“I know that every now and then everyone's thoughts are not entirely focused on the subject matter, especially when it comes to the difficult topics of religious teaching that I have to convey to you! – But then such a drama!” Expressing incomprehension, he shook his beefy head and stared firmly into the eyes of his counterpart.

“So that we understand each other,” he continued in the same monotone voice and his index finger tapped nervously on the black tabletop to emphasize his remarks. “You are not being reprimanded for your inattention, but for intentionally interrupting my lesson through your behaviour – is that clearly understood?”

“Yes, Mr. Gruner!” With the last of his strength, he put sorrow and remorse into his voice. Willi felt relieved and freed from the fear of being caught as a thief. He felt the trembling in his knees subside.

He doesn't know anything, a reassuring thought flashed through his head, which he kept bowed low as a precaution.

Nothing from the wallet, nothing from the stolen money!

Even Friedrich Schiller on the wall now had a friendlier expression on his face and the narrow room suddenly appeared much brighter. Briefly and succinctly, as he was used to from Paul, Willi heard his instruction: “You can go now!”

“Thank you!” the student forced himself to answer. He hurried out of the room, leaving all torment and fear behind him.

Of course, it took a lot of audacity to record a threatened third entry in the class register with relief, but Willi felt liberated. The panicked fear of being exposed as a thief disappeared again into the subconscious and gave way to thoughts of joy about the secured windfall in his trouser pocket.

Many of his classmates certainly believed him in the role of the courageous daredevil that he so often portrayed, but he was actually completely different! Deep inside he embodied exactly the opposite of what he showed on the outside - highly sensitive, shy and completely insecure.

As the son of a simple worker from the countryside, he was influenced by society's prejudices and its condescending behaviour towards “refugee children” of this post-war generation!

His dependence on the opinions of others and his strong desire for recognition often forced him to make such daring appearances as the one in the previous religion lesson!

After such successful pranks, usually involving risks, he enjoyed and felt the supposed admiration and recognition of his classmates.

Was it the occasional fare evasion on the Deutsche Bundesbahn on the way to school? Whether it was the unauthorized removal from the schoolyard during breaks or the always risky and rebellious behaviour towards the teachers - there was always something! – Something that helped him cover up the feelings of inferiority caused by fear and shyness!

Willi had no idea that the coming days would completely change his life!

Exhilarated, his hands buried in his pockets, he strolled back towards the classroom, freed from a burden.

You can all kiss my ass, he thought jubilantly and rubbed the coins between his fingers.

All students at this school had to leave the school building during long breaks. They were allowed to move freely outside in the schoolyard.

“For physical recovery and to replenish oxygen,” says director Dr. Dr. Löscher tirelessly and made this clear at every possible opportunity. Staying in hallways and classrooms was only allowed on wet, rainy days !

Willi watched the colourful groups of raging classmates through the swinging glass panels of the heavy door to the school yard. While enjoying the first warm rays of early spring sunshine, they let their imaginations run wild. There was a game of “war”, pushing and shoving, often to the annoyance of the break supervisor. Two teachers were requested to take on this difficult and responsible task on a rotating basis every day and ensure that such tussles did not get out of hand. Abrasions on bloody knees and elbows had to be treated almost every day.

They also had to make sure that greaseproof paper or similar ended up in the garbage containers provided. As in all schools in the 1960s, it was a fixed ritual at Willis' school that the older students used the long break to secretly smoke. Hiding in the corner near the bike racks, they deliberately violated school rules in the collective fun of disobedience. Amounts of hastily stubbed cigarette butts, some still smouldering dangerously, were flicked into the neighbouring gardens. A behaviour, much to the outrage of the residents, that had already led to several complaints to the school management. This offense, much to the delight of the students, was then blamed on the relevant break supervision teachers.

Inside the school building, such supervision was carried out in the classrooms for each floor separately by two selected “prefects”. It was considered a special honour and high recognition to be selected for this task by the class teacher. However, the “honorable” task then primarily consisted of slandering and snitching on classmates.

If these “chosen ones” discovered a classmate inside the building during recess, such a violation of school rules had to be reported immediately to the principal’s office with the name and class of the person caught.

“Report first and never ask what the reason is!” was said mockingly in student circles. It is certainly easy to understand that this task was not entirely without danger. Violent fights between each other were often the result of such sneak attacks!

Monitoring the cleanliness of hallways and classrooms was also one of the demanding tasks of these chosen ones. How often had the cleaning ladies complained to caretaker Schreiber; because leftover apples, mouldy sandwiches, orange peels and butts from hastily put out cigarettes simply didn't belong in the shelves under the school desks.

Willi knew that his secret crush “Babsi” was in charge of the upstairs this week. There was no good reason for him to spend the last few minutes of the big break in the schoolyard. So, he turned around and left the schoolyard and swinging doors behind him.

He quietly crept past the caretaker's office to the wide spiral staircase. Jagged marching music reached his ears. Caretaker Schreiber was lying relaxed, leaning back in his office chair in a small squat next to the main entrance. With his legs stretched out on a tall cardboard box, he listened to the rhythmic sounds from the radio with his eyes closed. Lost in thought, he drummed his fingers in time on the solid desktop.

“Crusaders fanfare march!” thought Willi and gently, with great caution, put one foot in front of the other, climbing the stone stairs step by step. He crossed the hallway on the top floor undetected and quietly opened the classroom door.

Babsi sat on the wide windowsill with her back in the warming sun. She was reading a schoolbook. In her short brown dress, she looked like a painting in the dazzling backlight. Her long, light blonde hair reflected the bright sunlight into a glow around the perfect beauty of her face. She looked up, startled.

“What are you doing here, the doorbell hasn’t even rung yet! I think you’re sick?”

She turned to the intruder, both surprised and questioning. In her familiar, slightly hoarse voice, she continued to ask with interest: “Don’t you want to go home?”

With her left free hand, she pushed her long hair away from her face. Willi melted at the sight. His plan had worked, he was completely alone in his class with Babsi, who was adored by everyone! “No, it’s okay again!” he replied shortly. “Paul caught me.”

Embarrassed, he took the wet sponge and wiped the traces of the last “Bible lesson” from the green blackboard. Every now and then he turned his head and looked the beautiful girl directly in the eyes. She avoided him, lowered her head, blushing, and continued reading her book!

Barbara Schäfer was considered the most beautiful of the graduating class. Each of her pubescent classmates wooed her more or less successfully. Many a cockfight in the schoolyard was held just because of her. She was well aware of her beguiling effect on the boys. Calculating and with pleasure, she always knew how to use the favour of the young men of her age to her own advantage. Anyone who was allowed to carry her school bag or buy her an ice cream was considered extremely privileged and was envied beyond measure. Help with her homework was the absolute pinnacle of what was achievable, especially when such “help” took place at her home. Everyone was longing to be able to visit her in her filthy rich parents' old villa. Such tutoring of the blonde beauty's schoolwork gave free rein to the imagination of those not chosen and there were rumours full of imagination and passion!

“The boys are all so stupid!” Babsi often remarked to her best friend Dagmar. With mischievous joy on her face, she of course only meant her male classmates with this assessment. However, she was actually looking for a loyal connection in the older and already adult group of “high class students”.

Willi was “stupid”, but also privileged. On the class's last day of hiking, he was even allowed to wear her coat, which she had taken off while she was sweating. An advantage in the girl's favour that cannot be overestimated, and which was viewed with envy but also mockery by her classmates - no one had ever managed to gain the beautiful girl's favour that way! Dealing with her was difficult! As the only daughter of the head of the city treasury, she was considered spoiled and conceited. She lived in the most beautiful corner of the city in an old city villa right next to the city park - out of reach for Willi and yet so close!

She had a lot of fun flirting with the boys, especially the older ones and especially the ones who could ride her home on a moped after school.

“Kreidler RS” or “Zündapp KS 50” were considered unmistakable status symbols in this era of the Beatles and the “Mushroom Heads.” These high-horsepower fire chairs were allowed to be driven upon reaching the age of sixteen, provided the student had a valid class four driver's license.

“She’s just screwing you over!” Taschi warned at every opportunity. He should know! After all, he was the oldest with “relevant, intimate experience,” as he often emphasized, and he had his own moped! But he had never managed to win Barbara's interest and affection.

“Will you help me with math this afternoon?” Sighing obsequiously, Babsi snapped the hard-working blackboard cleaner out of his dreams. Willi was completely surprised and stared embarrassedly at her sweet pout; – a block of ice, who could have said no to that!

“No, I can’t!” he replied briefly and bitterly. Disappointed, he threw the sponge back into the bucket, because he had to refuse her request. He was never allowed to leave home in the afternoon. He had to help with his parents' new house building. The job was to haul stones and stack them neatly. Until the workload set by the father was fulfilled. Only no one in the class knew that; because Willi remained silent out of shame, it was embarrassing for him!

“Build a house – just don’t look after the girls!” was in many families motto of educating their boys of the 1960s. Unfortunately, too often it is far too great a burden for the children of hard-working and aspiring parents in times of the much-vaunted economic miracle.

Naturally, the spoiled daughter of rich parents was offended.

“No – how – you can’t!” she looked at him incredulously. “Then I’ll just ask Bolte!” Annoyed, she folded up her book and went to her seat.

That hit him in the heart, that hurt! Deeply affected, Willi thought about the construction work he hated and the amount of dirty work his father demanded for the entire afternoon. He simply had no further explanation or excuse for the woman he loved.

The ringing of the recess bell broke the awkward silence between the two. All the students rushed back to their classrooms and the trampling and crashing of countless feet echoed through the school building and shook the floors.

Andy was the first to arrive in class and looked at his friend in amazement.

“Still time for love!” he remarked mockingly and took his place next to the door.

Willi could have killed him because of that remark. He also showed this in a hidden, threatening manner with his fist. However, André Peters was no longer intimidated by such gestures. He had known his threatening friend for too long. They grew up together in a small suburb of the town of Delmenhorst. They were inseparable since childhood. Together they attended the village school with the four primary school classes. The two boys had already said a lot of nonsense there. Very often this resulted in the teacher hitting him in the palm of his hand with a cane. Or they had had to stand still in the corner of the class for the rest of the lesson, staring fixedly at the black, beefy fire stove. The forest fire started by the two of them, which threatened the entire village, is only mentioned here in passing. The residents barely managed to put out the fire on their own. The women and men of the entire neighbourhood hit the blazing flames with wet sacks. With the last of their strength, they were able to keep the fire away from their houses.

Nothing could separate the boys, especially not Andy's mocking remark about Willis' feelings. Sitting at the right end in the front row, right next to the front door of the class, Andy was the receptionist for the teachers. His main task was to warn his classmates in good time before the teachers arrived. With a shrill, practiced whistle over his two fingers, he always managed to drown out the loudly booming crowd in the classroom. He was then allowed to hold the door open for the approaching teacher and greet him with a deep bow. After the teacher had entered the classroom, Andy had to close the door quietly. Finally, he had to take his seat immediately and as quietly as possible! This procedure was repeated after each break; It was never without funny faxes, skilfully delivered in a comedic manner by the bouncer. Secretly behind the teacher's back, Andy let his imagination run wild. The sight of the group of students in 9A grinning with amusement caused many a teacher to be amazed at the unusually cheerful greeting.

English was on Fräulein Engelbart's timetable for the third and fourth periods. However, she was always prepared for Andy's reception jokes. Basically, when she entered the class, she turned around with her index finger in warning.

“Good morning, boys and girls!” she called to the class with a smile. “Good morning, Miss Engelbart!” roared back in chorus.

She threw her briefcase vigorously onto the teacher's desk, sat on her side on the edge of the desk and began the lesson. She beamed at the expectant students with her flawlessly red painted mouth and sparkling white teeth. Her jet-black hair and dark complexion suggested an ancestry from southern climes around the Mediterranean.

With her sitting position on the desk, she looked like a top model before a pageant and her tight-fitting miniskirt inspired the fantasies of the boys in the front row!

“Your homework, please!”

As homework, Willi had to prepare a play in the foreign language. It was to be read aloud in turn conversation and he was allowed to choose the cast of the roles as a reward for his work. He had carefully translated the German-language original line by line and had had the distribution of roles in his head for days. Of course, he gave the female part of the main role to his coveted Babsi. He cynically enjoyed every word when she, angry and still offended, shouted angrily into the class: "I would very much appreciate to be kissed by your honorable...!"

Won, Willi thought happily, she's mad that I can't come to her today!

The stolen wallet, the guilty conscience, the theft; all was forgotten, it was a beautiful day! The spring sun still laughed warmly from the wide blue sky; and yes, it really was a hell of a lot of fun, these lively lessons with Miss Engelbart.

After school ended, the four friends met in their popular niche next to the kiosk, less than two hundred meters from the schoolyard. Here, in the corner made of whitewashed boards, hidden behind hedges and bushes, they felt “very comfortable”. Volker repeatedly drew attention to the advantages of their place of refuge.

“No pig can see us from the schoolyard here!” he stated, chewing. What was meant were the trips into the protection of this hiding place, which were prohibited under punishment. Despite or perhaps because of the relevant paragraph in the school rules, the boys regularly ran away during long breaks. The fact that “their corner” was occasionally occupied by unemployed alcoholics, for undoubtedly advantageous reasons of privacy, did not bother the four of them at all .

“Let’s keep the teachers off our backs!” The four boys agreed on this conspiracy.

As usual, Taschi flung himself onto the corner bench at the back of the niche.

Left leg stretched out on the seat, back leaning comfortably against the wall of the house, arms crossed in front of the chest and eyes closed. “Leave me alone,” this position seemed to express, only the sound of his chewing gum bubble bursting indicated that he was following the conversation.

“Boy, you greatly exaggerated, your appearance in Reli,” André Peters insulted his friend. His eyes moved from one buddy to the next, uncertain, and begging for approval.

“You think that’s it, right?” He avoided looking directly at Willi. He was trying to balance four bottles of “Florida Boy” to the folding table between his fingers.

“Just lick me!” Apparently annoyed, the friend being bullied reached for the bottle opener, which was attached to a string on the table.

“What would you have done in my situation? I had no idea what “Mr. Paulus” was babbling about!”

He skilfully pried off one bottle cap after the other from the neck of the bottle and let them fall onto the paving stones with a clatter. With a confident flourish, he pushed the delicious drink to each friend. No bottle slipped and missed its target. Proud that he had used his loot wisely, he then passed a box of Lux filters through the line and his friends courageously grabbed it.

“Well then cheers!” Willi felt almost euphoric in the role of the noble donor; not a thought anymore about the victim who was stolen from, no remorse, no guilty conscience!

He was inspired by the recognition of his friends here in the conspiratorial circle; once again he was “the leader of the gang!”

Volker snapped open the lid of his lighter with a loud noise, turned the ignition wheel three times and they greedily puffed on the gasoline-smelling flame with their cigarettes.

“At least not that kind of shit!” Taschi, the oldest and most experienced, summed it up.

He happily popped another bubble of gum and sat up.

“Do you know that Dagmar Meyer is throwing a party this weekend?”

Apparently uttered casually, he let his question affect the ignorant group.

“In the large canteen above the factory hall of your old man on Adelheider Steet!”

He didn't even wait for an answer from his completely surprised friends.

“Irmela told it to me, and she has heard it from Gudrun. She can invite boys too!

Drinking, eating – everything is free – music is enough! Andy – have they asked you about playing records and stuff?”

The interviewee could only shrug his shoulders in resignation. He, who was usually well informed about such parties, had to shake his head, and say no.

“I don’t know, I haven’t the faintest idea!” The envy in his voice couldn’t be ignored. It really hit him that Taschi knew more than he did; his absolute supremacy in all matters relating to the school's disco and party scene began to waver.

“I don't have my system clear anyway, there are still a few soldering points missing on the mixer and speakers!” With a dismissive wave of his hand, he waved it off, seemingly bored, and took a long sip from the bottle.

Willi saw himself digging around in his parents' building again for the coming weekend. He suspected that he probably wouldn't be there. He felt the anger rising inside him again.

“Is Babsi there too?” He looked questioningly at Taschi, who grinned at him with amusement.

The question had come out of his mind completely without thinking and he bitterly regretted it as soon as it was said, everyone knew how much he had a crush on the girl; he felt caught!

“It's clear that Daggi and Babsi are like burrs together! You know – best friend and all that!” Taschi mischievously let his words affect the group, raised his eyebrows in confirmation and let the tip of his tongue skilfully hit his upper lip several times.

Everyone knew what was meant and everyone let their wild imaginations run wild. They then grinned sheepishly at each other.

“Oh yes – Willi and wild Barbara!” joked Volker and laughed loudly from his corner. The corners of his mouth came closer to his earlobes. He flicked his cigarette butt behind the hedge and gave the caught comrade a friendly slap on the shoulder.

“Are you keen on the little one?” Willi, blushing slightly, endured all of his friends' teasing and rude jokes.

“The mare and her stallion in heat!” Andy interjected obscenely before he almost choked up with laughter, then coughed violently and kicked out his butt with his foot. His pale face beneath his black bangs seemed even paler than usual!

“Don’t put the butts on the floor and pick up the bottle caps!” The fat female owner of the kiosk appeared behind the pushed-up window at the sales counter. Her breathy voice sounded short and succinct in a military command tone into the corner of the students.

“You boys know exactly where the trash can is!” she continued to scold and shook her index finger. She stuck her head out through the sales hatch and her plump bust bounced excitedly on the counter, much to the amusement of her young customers.

“It will be carried out immediately, Ms. General!” Volker shouted back. He jumped up quickly from his folding chair, clicked the heels of his shoes together and touched his forehead with his right hand in awe. Any sergeant in a German barracks would have admired the perfectly executed military salute. The loud laughter of his friends at Volker's facial expressions drowned out the banging sound of the window flap slamming shut in anger. However, through the glass of the kiosk's side window, a smile could be seen on the face of her plump and good-natured "sales aunt" behind the windows.

“Do you know exactly when it's supposed to start?” asked Willi and looked at Taschi expectantly. Worried, he was already trying to think of an excuse for his father to be able to attend the party. It was now clear to him: – he would be there! – for sure!

“I have no idea!” replied tall Taschi, shrugging his broad shoulders. With a powerful swing, he threw his pocketknife towards the tall poplar trees that shielded the banks of the Delme from the main road. Due to the force of the throw, it got stuck deep horizontally in the bark. He stood up, followed his knife, and proudly pulled it out of the tree.

“What's wrong with your fucking music system? Without real music, a party like this can go awry!” He leisurely folded up his knife and sat down backwards in front of Andy on the dingy folding chair. He grinned flattered and said worriedly: “The mixer hasn't been soldered yet; my old soldering iron doesn’t work anymore. I'm totally broke and can't buy a new one at this moment. My old man cut my pocket money because of the disco! Last Saturday I danced home late again and my slight hint of alcohol spoke volumes; The old man was pretty angry!”

Perplexed silence fell into the niche and the four of them sucked on their bottles in silence.

A few wild ducks were cavorting on the mirror-smooth surface of the Delme, which flows next to the road. Quacking loudly, they argued over a few dry breadcrumbs, which an old pensioner pitifully threw into the chattering crowd. The spread wings beat violently in the fight for the coveted food. Willi, who had generously donated the orange juice, watched the animals in the splashing water. With the raging image of this natural aggression before his eyes, he suddenly had an idea for a solution to Andy's problem.

He deliberately held it back; the idea had to grow, mature slowly, like a good wine! Twice or three times he turned the shocking idea through his brain cells, which were working at full speed. He was often inclined to loudly announce his idea; inside he was burning to share himself! But once again he stopped himself, aware that he was making a very dangerous plan. A very daring move that would most likely earn him further recognition and admiration from his mates; He was sure of that! Taschi passed his cigarettes across the table, and everyone gratefully took them. The ducks on the river had long since tiredly stopped their fight. Willi inhaled deeply the smoke from his butt. Then he broke the silence with a superior smile. “Workshop lesson! – Tomorrow, we have workshop lesson in the first few hours!”

Slowly and in a monotone voice, he let the meaning of his words sink into the group.

Again, he enjoyed the increasing interest of his friends; He took another puff on his cigarette with pleasure. Yes, that’s how “Al Capone” must have felt in his heyday. Now it was his turn! With his plan he would make himself the leader of a courageous and important act, carefully planned and conducted with a close community!

The keyword “workshop” was clue enough and Volker was the first to understand what his neighbour at the table had so mysteriously implied.

“No, no! You mean we go into the workroom and steal the soldering iron for Andy?”

Volker looked around questioningly and fearfully moved away when Willi gave him a conspiratorial nod.

“Oh, so we just pack a soldering iron and solder and smuggle the whole thing out of class without Pfaffenhofer noticing? – you are crazy – really!”

He looked desperately at the others. “Without me! You’ll have to do this shit alone!”

Exasperated, he jumped up, quickly drank the rest of his bottle while standing and put it back empty in front of the serving hatch in the sales window! Embarrassed, he grabbed his school bag and started to leave.

“Gotta go home now!” – See you tomorrow!” Violently, as always chewing on nothing, he nervously looked around again with lowered eyelids and left his astonished friends.