Day 67 Awktober Fest

Oktoberfest.  A 16 day celebration of drinking mass quantities of beer and merry making in the southern Bavarian province in a town called Munich. It started in 1810 to celebrate a royal marriage and someone thought it would be a great idea to do it every year.  This is my story of my personal Oktoberfest.  A teenage tale of high adventure, suspense, thrills and nerve wracking escapes.  This story has it all.

My companions had traveled from afar to surprise me with mirth and merriment and their visit had done so.  It was post-war Germany (ok, ok, it was 1971) and my visiting colleagues and I were restless with an empty Friday night in front of us and no plans penciled in on the calendar.  We were meaning to imbibe and celebrate our rare but occasional reunion but no plans from headquarters had kept us mum for the moment.  We needed jubilation, cheers and toasts to celebrate our reunion.  Everett, Spivey and Troy were last seen a year previous so it was going to be joyous indeed to unleash a ferocity of drunkenness unlike any other typical Friday night.  As it happened, Oktoberfest was currently in full swing in my little town of Bitburg that night and since it involved merry making, we made the decision to swing into battle mode and converge on the closest tent of beer festivities.  We would try to mix in surreptitiously with our German brothers and sisters and celebrate with the locals this grand tradition going back 160 years.  Ich bin ein German trinker madoodle!  The mood was set and we ventured out from our base to find the beer and party.

It didn’t take much reconnaissance to discover the local revelment.  It was in the center of town, in the main square that was condoned off with walls of bricks that somehow survived the 95% destruction during the war.  It seemed a fitting place to celebrate life though and since we were part of the team that did the bombing, we could really not find any fault with their choice of location.  It was a large square filled with tents and music, singing and dancing, beer and cigarettes.  Outside of the walls, huge trucks filled with the magic elixir surrounded the entire plaza.  There was only one entrance point and you had to have a ticket to enter.  Not good for a squad high on life but very low on cash.  No back entrance to sneak into seemed to brake our swagger a little bit.  We huddled up, Everett, Spivey, Troy, me, Rick and Dan and started improvising a plan of attack that would satisfy our party needs and not dander up the locals too much.  Infiltrating the Germans on Oktoberfest was a delicate, dangerous mission.  But we were the men to do it.  We had the training, the determination and the fearlessness of Americans on foreign soil everywhere.  Plus we were going up against a town of drunks.

“On the south side there’s truck with no drivers present.  We’ll station Dan under the back there to be our point of drop off.  Chris, you, me, Spivey and Rick will station ourselves between the truck and the tent.  I see a weakness in their security by the maypole.  The tent is not completely tied together.  Can you see that?”  Everett in command and assessing our access.

I took the binoculars (ha ha ha) and spied the maypole in question.  He was right!  There was a break in the tent.  Someone had failed to secure all the tie downs and it left a hole with enough egress to siphon any goodies within reach.  Lucky for us, it was also where they decided to stack cases of beer.  I mean cases and cases of beer.  I’m talking a wall of beer that was deeper than the wall of bricks they were resting next too. These Germans didn’t come to the party to lightly sip, they came to blitzkrieg some serious beer and give Oktoberfest, Bitburg style, a night to remember.  I handed the binoculars to Troy for his opinion. 

“What do you want me to do” Troy asked nervously.  His first assignment on target soil.  He was a bit awkward and I’m not sure he was up to the task we were planning.

“You take the front entrance and see how long you can engage them.  Try to get in free and when that doesn’t work, start getting upset and start a little row.  That will get the locals interested and they will come over to see what’s going on.  That’s when we’ll start our operation on the side.”  Everett’s tone was confident and we were all getting antsy to finagle out the rest of the plan.  “We’ll line up between the truck and the wall with me in front.  I’ll reach in and grab a beer and pass it down to Chris, who’ll pass it down to Spivey, to Rick and finally down to Dan.  Dan you’ll be under the truck with your coat open.  Stack the beers and when we get enough we’ll clear out with no one the wiser.  There’s just enough room to do one beer at a time so don’t get any ideas about being a hero.  Slow but steady and we can have a good night after all.”

Okay, slow and steady.  We fell out to find our places according to plan.  We each found our spot taking time so as not to arouse any suspicion.  We were dressed as civilians but we didn’t have that haunted look that so many older Germans in this area possessed.  As hard as it may be to understand, we looked American too. But we also had the look of the hunt and we needed to look away when confronting any of the revelers.  They seemed to be pretty hammered so it wasn’t a serious test of psychological warfare going on.  We just needed to line up with some degree of stealth so we wouldn’t be noticed hiding by the truck and tent.  We held our breath as we painfully squeezed into our spaces behind the tent.  It was tight. Everett led the way and we all followed the plan to perfection.  Except Troy.  We waited for a ruckus to occur at the front gate.  Nothing.  Everett leaned in and grabbed a beer.  He pulled it out slowly and handed it to me.  I grabbed it and held it for a moment.  I felt its heft, its shape, and thought about its future in my belly.  Spivey nudged me impatiently and I smiled as I passed it along to him. 

Still silence from the gate and Everett reached through and grabbed another beer.  Slow and steady, that was the plan.  To me, to Spivey, to Rick and finally to Dan to stack.  I could hear the gentle clinking of the bottles as they found their way inside of his jacket laid out on the ground.  There was no one watching the back of the truck so we were depending on luck to get us out when the mission was complete.  That was going to be Troy’s job when he finished at the gate but so far we had no notice of his part being set in motion.  Something triggered Everett and he mumbled fuck it and reached through the tent with both arms and a case staggered out of the small hole that was now ripped wider to accommodate the stash.

“What the fuck are you doing?  What happened to slow and steady?” I blisphered loudly in Everett’s ear.  He grunted as he tried to angle the case to fit on his chest.

“Move it! Get going, let’s go, hurry!” was all he answered.  Immediately we started inching desperately down the line to get out from the side of the truck.  I heard an “Oh fuck’’ and the clinking of beer bottles being bundled up.

“Rendevouz behind Fielmann’s Optiks on Haupt Strasse” I yelled as we got free from our perches.  “Fielman Optiks, Haupt Strasse, follow Dan and Rick!” Troy came around the corner at that moment to hear what I said and then ran off to the north behind Rick.  Dan hugged his jacket to his chest not wanting to lose any of the 2 bottles that he collected.  He sped off to the south with Spivey at a very slow clip.  I helped Everett with the case grabbing one side and we ran off to the east to split up from the rest of our company.  There was yelling in the background to motivate us in leaving the area.  Germans caught on to our attack and were mobilizing to bring us down.  No time for looking back, we just ran.  It was awkward with the case of beer slowing us down but it was like gold for the moment and we were not going to let it go.  I looked over to Everett but his glance said don’t fuck with me right now.  So the plan didn’t go off that well but that didn’t mean we had to blow the whole place up.  We could have had fun with a few beers, we didn’t need the entire truck to party.  These were my thoughts as I tried to make sense of why I was going to get my ass beat by some furious Germans in a few minutes if we didn’t disappear in the dark completely.

Haupt Strasse was about 5 blocks the way we went and I knew the back streets better than anybody.  It was good that Everett helped me carry the beer as it got heavy by the time we caught up with the rest of the platoon.  Everyone was breathing heavily and no one said a word for several minutes.

“What the hell Troy!  You were supposed to create a commotion!  What happened?” bellowed Everett.  Troy, still wheezing flipped off Everett and leaned over to put his hands on his knees.  “Shit, I tried but there were too many people.  They kept saying, nicht verstehe, when I said I didn’t have any money.  They didn’t give a shit, they just pushed me aside to let the other people in.  I tried.  Why did you tear out a whole case?  There was no way that was going to fit through that hole!” Troy cried.

“Slow and steady got boring!  Ha ha ha!  And now we’ve got a whole case of beer thanks to me,” laughed Everett.  He was right, we were looking at the mother lode of Friday night action.  A whole case of premium German pilsner beer for free!  We managed to ditch our pursuers so the operation was a success as of now.

“Wunderbar!  Let’s get trinken and find our own party!” Spivey spouted.  “Now if only we had a bottle opener, we’d be golden.”

At the crux of every operation there was always a subtlety, a minor key that was overlooked and we now discovered our weak link.  How to open 24 beers without an opener.

“Anyone for bratwurst?” I shouted.  “Let’s go to Willig’s and see if he has a church key that he’ll let us borrow.  We’re in the clear, we shouldn’t have any problems now.”

In unison, we picked up the beer and started the long walk to Willigs on Saar Strasse some 7 or 8 blocks away.  As heavy as the beer was our spirits rose the closer we came to the bratwurst stand.  Willigs was in a very public place so we didn’t want to show off too much.  Hopefully we could talk Willig into lending us an opener and we can sip into our long delayed Friday night festivities in some quiet alley in the back of Everett’s car.  Or in the street as far as I was concerned.  I was thirsty!  As we approached Willigs a couple of GI’s in real uniforms saw our stash and started making some comments about being thirsty.  We were showing off our trophy but didn’t have much interest in sharing any of it with anybody.  Sorry, it was our operation.

Troy was assigned to get the bottle opener and he came out looking dejected.  “He knows where we got the beer and he said fuck off Ami’s, get your own opener.” 

What?  Denied our prize again.  The German republic was determined to win this battle at all costs.  We have been driven to far to give up now.

“Hey, I’ll open up all those beers for you if you give us a sixer,” said one of the GI’s churlishly.

“You got an opener on you?” It wasn’t something typically carried around as standard gear.

“No but I can open all of them if you want.  For six bottles of beer.  You want them opened or not?” he sniped.

Everett piped up, “We need these assets to secure our loot and complete the mission.  I give you my blessing sir if you would be so kind as to pop the tops on our bottles.”

The GI’s eyes lit up and he stumbled over to our treasure, obviously already having celebrated a bit of Oktoberfest earlier.  He picked up one bottle and secured it between his upper and lower molars and bit the cap off with the ease of a snake handler.  A gasp escaped the six of us.  No shit, this guy is going to open all of our bottles with his teeth?  This night was just getting better and better.  The American military at its best, serving the civilians at all costs.  Our Americans on the front line, god bless them.  We started snickering but kept it in check.  He started slowing down at about 10 bottles and I reminded him sternly that he had to open at least 18 of them to get his six.  “No problem” he staggered between bloody lips.  He started opening bottles with the other side of his mouth.  Priceless!

His duty done and his parcel of beer rationed out to him and his friend, we picked up the remaining beers in the case and started walking down the road towards Everett’s auto.  We each had an open beer to our lips and were smiling ear to ear.  I took a long draw and felt it all the way to my toes.  This was the best tasting beer I’ve ever had.  It had to be.  We put our lives on the line for these suds.  A bottle in one hand, the case in the other.  I felt like skipping but I’m sure Everett wasn’t as ecstatic as I was.  He still had a hunted look on his face.  I didn’t blame him, we’re still behind enemy lines and we’re being careless and carefree with our riches.

At that moment our world ignited into a fury we had little prepared for.  A truck shrieked to a stop with doors opening before the vehicle stopped.  Two burly SS stormtroopers, boots, trenchcoats, maces jumped out and attempted to take us by force.  The red swastikas in their eyes burned with hatred and glee at the potential ass kicking they were going to deliver to us Ami lads.  Coming into their territory and stealing their beer.  They were actually fat, stocky, no bullshit bratwursters wearing green aprons down to their calves and still wearing their festive beer hats.  The feathers in their caps were bent from the wind of their fury. They jumped down to the street and the ground bounced like throwing a dead pig on a table. No, we were dead to rights.  Of course, like a bomb everyone blew off in every direction.  Across the street, up and down the street and me and Everett, like two dumb bears stealing a kettle started running down the street with the case locked firmly in our hands.

“Let go!” I screamed to Everett.  “What?” he looked at me unfocused but hell bent on escape.  “Let go of the fucking beer Everett!” He blanched and nodded and we both unleashed our treasure in mid stride.  It was like slow motion.  The case sailed backwards and up several feet and then slowly tumbled to the ground bottle side first.  Each beer bottle shattering one at a time.  I could feel each little death with each pace towards my freedom.  I felt a beer shame.  I denigrated Oktoberfest in my own way.

“NEIN! NEIN!” screamed the SS troopers/beer swillers.  They stopped as if they lost a soldier and stood over the damage in shock.  Their sausage fingers tenderly picking out the whole bottles that survived the toss.  It was a waste that they could not understand.  What they did understand though was some punk American kids stole it from them and then trashed it on the street like some back alley garbage.  They looked down the street and screamed, “Run Ami’s, go ahead you vill only die tired when ve catch you!”  That bit of porcine fright put an extra pace in my step.  Their pause gave us a precious few extra feet of freedom.  Actually I didn’t see anybody from my company as they all bolted to all directions of the compass.  I just ran straight ahead down the sidewalk hoping for some salvation.  I could hear the clomp clomp clomping of their boots in the near distance behind me.  They were relentlessly determined.

 I saw a gas station up at the corner ahead and houses beyond that.  A back yard!  A bush!  Something, someplace to hide.  My salvation just around the corner.  I ran into the gas station and headed towards the back where a small wooden fence marked the boundary.  I leapt over the fence and time stopped for me completely.  Then it swayed a little bit and then violently whipped me back into the lot and flat on my back.  I didn’t see the barb wire that was 2 feet higher than the wooden fence.  It snapped me like a sling shot on the parking lot and blew all the air out of my chest and the stars out of my head. 

Stunned and at a loss of where I was, I laid on the lot looking up at the stars on this suddenly beautiful night.  I was in shock as there was no air being pumped into my lungs.  It was a strange quiet that I was experiencing.  I heard muffled yelling and it slowly dawned on me to hide quickly.  A car was on the lot and I haltingly pushed my way under it using my feet to propel me.  My hands kept trying to grab the tarmac hoping I could squeeze some air out of it somehow.  Pshhllawoosh!  Air!  Finally.  I grabbed a breath ragged as it was, it was as sweet as the taste of my earlier beer.  Beer.  That’s right.  That’s why I’m here.  Under a car, hiding from storm troopers that want to beat me to a pulp for stealing their beer.  My breath coming in rasping gasps I tried to slow it down to a quiet roar.  I didn’t want to give up my hiding place.  I laid my head down and turned sideways to look out at the street.  I saw boots, long black boots standing still and fidgeting back and forth.  I saw the lights of the street with cars traveling up and down with relative ease.  It seemed so normal yet here I was under a car hiding for my life.  The boots turned and walked back to the main strasse and I felt momentarily safe.  I closed my eyes in relief.

Honk. What? I shook my head and dust fell off in clumps.  Where was I?  I opened my eyes and was disoriented with the view.  In my face, pipes, dust, dirt, spider webs.  Yes, oh yes, definitely under a car.  I crawled out painfully and felt pain all over my back, my head, and my chest.  I got beat up all right but no one laid a finger on me that night.  It must have been early in morning, there was that eerie silence to the dark.  I stood up and recognized the gas station, hours earlier my salvation and in the end my deliverance from the bashing I did deserve.  There was nobody around, nobody.  My friends gone and finished with the night somewhere without me.  There were no Germans chasing me.  A rare car traveling the street.  I painfully looked up and saw a sky full of stars looking down on me.  Silently spinning on some cosmic shelf billions of light years away.  I thought about the light created, of endless, crushing nuclear explosions, second after second pulsing their destructive luminosity light years of unimaginable time to keep a quiet company with me in this deserted gas station in the middle of the night. I thought about my night of destruction and thought, hey, it wasn't bad, no, not bad at all. I dusted off my clothes with the ashes from those luminous bodies ultimately and started my less than millions of light years long walk home.

1.       I’m grateful that I can afford the entertainment I choose today.

2.       I’m grateful that the Germans didn’t catch me as they had blood in their eyes.

3.       I’m grateful that I wrote such a long story and I hope it’s fun to read for everyone.