“Our class went for an outing to the mountain that you can see from our balcony. You know, it has a blinking light at night.” Grandpa seemed to know about it.
He said, “People say it is for secret war communication.”
“What’s the name of the place?” I asked.
“It’s the Hartmann’s Willerkopf.”
“Have you been there?”
“No, but it was the site of the greatest battle between the French and the Germans during the Great War, killing thousands. It was called the Verdun of Alsace.”[9]
“Grandpa, why isn’t there a forest anymore? We had a hard time finding some shade to eat our lunch.”
“War kills more than men; it kills all the vegetation too.”
“You know, we saw a rusty helmet right by where we were sitting. And when I went to have a closer look, I found a skull inside it. Grandpa, tell me—was he young? Did he have children? How did he die—by bullet or by bayonet? Was he French or German? Catholic or Protestant? Who was he?”
“It doesn’t really matter, Little One. He was just a man.”
“Grandpa, you know what the Catholics say? If it’s a Frenchman, he’s up in heaven.”
“Little One, you know they said just the opposite during the Great War.”
“Grandpa, I know he will be resurrected. He’s just sleeping.”
Grandpa looked up to heaven and shrugged. I could feel his breath on me as he heaved a sigh. After a long silence, he finally opened one of his jars filled with cheese, inhaling with delight the escaping aroma.
“Doesn’t it taste wonderful?” Grandpa asked. The cheese had ripened, and we had our secret snack and little chat. True, it smelled awful to me, but what a creamy taste! And above all what excitement—all of this behind Grandma’s back!
“Grandpa, why does Grandma always grumble every evening when you listen to the news?”
“She hates that radio your parents gave her.”
“But why?”
“She is against anything new, things her parents didn’t use. She was upset when we got electricity. We had the first mountain power line. I was in charge of the community and had decided we should have a light at the crossroads of the two paths and another light near the little mountain river. Grandma’s uncle had missed the little bridge there one night. He fell into the ice-cold water and died. But even so, Grandma didn’t want to have the light inside the house. ‘Fire on a wire does not come in,’ she said. And she still won’t have it in places she can’t supervise, like the attic or the basement. That’s why you see her going around with her candle holder. ”
“But candles are dangerous, Grandma always claims.”
“Of course, but she has it in her hands. That makes her feel safe. You know, we’ve been raised with candlelight or petroleum lamps, and we still use them during bad storms.”
“My dad said that one day we will have pictures on the radio.”
“I don’t know if that will ever be possible. Your dad reads a lot and tells you many things. Do you understand what he says?”
“It will be like a movie.”
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