ON THE TOWN.

Me, Obrenski and Kurtz pile in to the open top kubelwagon. Obrenski in the driver's seat, me in the passenger and Kurtz in the back. Obrenski starts the engine and with a loud roar, the vehicle comes to life. The Lieutenant comes up to Obrenski's driver side, hands him a slip of paper and says, "Hurry back and this time, don't get side tracked please." Obrenski, lighting a cigarette, flashes a wide smile. " Of course we won't." he says grinning. With that Obrenski steps on the gas, sending us speeding down the dirt road and leaving the Lieutenant in the dust. I feel the cool wind blasting against my face and in the back, Kurtz sticks up his hands and shouts, "Wahooo!" We race down the bumpy dirt road that tosses us side to side. 

After about ten minutes we arrive at the outskirts of town. We hit paved roads with a sharp jolt. We barrel down the street among the two to three story red and gray brick buildings. The shingled roofs vary from brown to yellow and sometimes blue. Clothes lines and streamer lights almost form a canopy above us that as we pass between the buildings. People on the sidewalks wave with smiles as we dash by. We even pass a horse and carriage. Even though we are in the city, Obrenski still speeds. Suddenly, we blow past a stop sign with incredible speed, honking and cursing fill the air. Obrenski just laughs as we turn north on a street that takes us to the government building. 

We pull up around back to the government building and it is far larger than it appears. We pull up to a gate that blocks our entry into the underground parking garage that serves as our supply depot. Two uniformed sentries stand at the gate and eye us curiously. Obrenski waves a guard over and flashes the papers to him. The sentry then nods to the other, who begins to slide open the barbed fence in our path. Without waiting for the gate to fully open, Obrenski guns the throttle and narrowly avoids the sentry opening it. We fly down the concrete ramp and pass huge wooden crates of weapons and munitions as well as food supplies. Lights that are spaced evenly beam down brightly from the concrete ceiling.

Suddenly, a uniformed man holding and clipboard steps boldly into our path. Obrenski slams on the brakes and the vehicle screeches to a halt, barely avoiding running over the figure by a mere few feet. "Obrenski!" Shouts the bold man, "Why the hell do they still let you drive?" Obrenski shrugs stepping out of the kubelwagon and gives the man a hardy hand shake. "Rudy! so good to see you again." Obrenski says smiling. Its supply Sergeant Rudenstoff, an old acquaintance of Obrenski and Lieutenant Sprieg. "What do you want now?" asks the Supply Sergeant snarkly. "Spreig wants another caisson of shells. I don't know why, the Allies never fly over here. I guess he is just paranoid." Obrenski replies smugly. 

Rudenstoff snaps," Obrenski! you leave that poor man alone, you know he lost his wife and child. "What?" Me and Kurtz blurt almost in unison. " Didn't you know that Sprieg's wife and his son drowned when the British bombed the dam and flooded the Elbe valley two years ago." "Really?" asks an inquisitive Kurtz. The Sergeant replies, "Oh yeah, you ever wonder why he stays to himself? He doesn't drink, he doesn't smoke. Hell! He hardly ever comes into town." 

Obrenski scoffs and rolls his eyes. "Now you Obi need to quit giving him hell with your shenanigans." The Supply Sergeant turns and speaks to two uniformed men who are sitting on a crate. He barks orders at them and they lazily jump off and shuffle to back. 

The Supply Sergeant returns and asks" So Obi, how many illegitimate children have you fathered now?" Obrenski grins proudly. Me and Kurtz look to him in bewildered amazement. "Oh yeah, Obi here has probably breeded with half the town." says Sargent Rudenstoff. "Just what we need, more off his little bastards running around." he continues. Just then the two men return with a wheeled trailer in tow and resting inside the metal box is twelve hundred pounds of high explosives. They drag the trailer to the back of the kubelwagen and hitch it for us. Obrenski lights another cigarette, draws a breath and blows smoke in to the Sargent's face. The Sergeant bellows as Obreski turns. "You better head straight back, you hear!"Yeah, yeah sure." Obreski replies and joins us in the still running kubelwagen. 

Obrenski spins the vehicle around with the now hitched trailer. He honks rapidly as we fly up the ramp and past the gate as it was closing, once again barely missing the sentry yet again. 

We drive past one of the two local fire stations, the firemen can be seen washing and polishing their shining red engines inside the garage of the two story station. They wave at us as we pass and we reciprocate. We also pass the mechanics shop where Lieutenant Sprieg had to get the kubelwagen repaired after Obrenski wrecked it from driving off the road drunk. The shop has a fenced in lot where there is a queue of automobiles waiting in line for repairs. After a sharp left turn at a stop sign, we pass by a large school with two stories that can accommodate five hundred students of various grades. Obrenski honks obnoxiously to rile the school grounds, in embarrassment, I hide my face. We suddenly pass our turn to head back to the outpost. I look to Obrenski and say, " We passed our turn, you know we are supposed to be heading back". Without looking at me, he replies, "I know, I'm going to get lunch. A real lunch and no more of that caned shit." I think to myself a little real food wouldn't be bad but we would have to make it quick.

As we approach the market district, one can see the large dark stone steeple of the cathedral rising over the rooftops like a lighthouse. From our distance we can see the large cross that decorates the top of the spire and the enormous brass bells that hang within it. We parallel park near the sidewalk amongst other cars near the market district, the trailer juts out into the road. Obrenski turns off the engine and pulls the key, soon we all clamor out of the kubelwagen. After a short walk on the cobblestone sidewalk, we come across one of the entry ways into the grand bazaar that is the market district. 

There people go about their business in pursuit of bargains and deals. Older men, women, and children bustle about. I can see young boys in suits or overalls. I see women with little girls in small sunday dresses in a variety of colors. Old men in suits nod at us with respectful glances. As we walk into the square, our hobnail boots clack against the yellow painted cobblestone.

 The various shops surround us, the smell of fresh baked bread and cured meats envelope us. There are young children that play by the fountain, that still proudly stands for who knows how many years. Its polished stone king glimmers in the afternoon sun. The shops are crammed together and the town possesses a butcher store close to the walkway. The door is open and lets out a pleasing scent of freshly cooked meat. 

Through the clear glass windows, one can see cured hams hanging. It is owned by farmer Maxenhann who started the business with his sons after many of the folk asked him to cut their meats. An older man walks out with a bloody apron and hands a sack of meat to the women standing patiently outside. Next to it is the barber shop owned by the Von Housen family. Inside one can see the white and black checkered tiles and the brown leather barbers chairs through the open door. It has been there almost since the founding of the town. One can tell its age by the haphazard cobblestone framework compared to the brick buildings that surround it.

 Next to that is the tailor, where we tried to get Kurtz's pants hemmed, a red brick building with a lush purple carpet and a white interior. I can see a woman low to the ground measuring the pants legs of a man in a suit through the open doorway. Next to that is the bakery, the source of the heavenly smell of fresh bread and cinnamon. I can see large loaves of bread in the display cases from the large glass window and open door. Blue and gold striped walls decorate its interior. Across the walkway from that sits a clock shop. Inside is a master watchmaker from Dusseldorf, he makes the most elegant and sturdy watches there is to buy. Through the clear glass windows, I can see a wide assortment of cuckoo clocks hanging on a wall. Right beside that is a small restaurant with a blue and white canvas that shades some outdoor dining tables.

Next to the restaurant is our beer hall and Obrenski's favorite place. There one can see frothy glasses of yellow liquid being passed from waitress to recipient in the most drunken and disorderly manner as old men and soldiers gayley indulge into their afternoon alcohol. They sit out on wooden tables and chairs outside in a fenced in patio making merriment. Out front of the walkway is a vegetable stand were a local farmer tries to pawn off his crop at a bargain. 

Across the walkway is a glass shop that sells homemade glass ornaments and proudly displays them in cases by the window. Right next to that is a book store with rows upon rows of best selling books, that is where I got the book I'm reading now. There is a wonderful assortment of other shops that line the market square.

As we walk, three women flash smiles and wave at Obreski, he smiles smugly. We follow Obrenski to the restaurant, stenciled on the large glass window in cursive reads," Butendorf's Dining Hall." We step in the open door and the wooden boards squeak from the pressure. There are eight wooden square tables scattered about and four cushioned booths near the window. The walls and ceiling are painted with purple and white vertical strips. A wooden counter top with a register sits by the door. Pass the counter, we can peer into the silvery kitchen and watch the cooks shuffle about. We take our seats in a open booth, Kurtz flies to the window and stares out in amazement at the bustling square. I sit beside Kurtz and Obrenski gets a side to himself. 

A tall and slim waiter dressed in a black apron uniform and cap approaches us with menus and says," Alright boys welcome.... Obrenski what the hell are you doing here? You know if Lieutenant Sprieg catches you here, he'll put you on your ass." " Thats cause he don't know im here." Obrenski laughs smugly. The waiter hands us the menus and my eyes pop at the large selection of foods that doesn't come from a can. "Give me some coffee and sugar." Orders Obrenski. "Obi I told you before we haven't had coffee in months." The waiter says rolling his eyes. "Fine I'll have steak and potatoes, medium rare." orders Obrenski. The waiter goes to scribble on his note pad when Kurtz jumps up and shouts excitedly, "Can I have bratwurst and relish?"

The waiter chuckles and says," Yes little soldier you can have bratwurst and relish."  "And what about you son?" He looks to me and says. I freeze for I am overwhelmed by the selections. I say the first thing that catches my eye, "Ham and beans." I blurt out. The waiter nods still scribbling on his note pad, " Alright ham and beans." He turns to Obrenski, " I hope you know you are paying for all this, and you are not getting out of it this time." The waiter turns and leaves us. Obrenski looks to me and says, " Franz, lets not tell Sprieg about this little adventure. Lets say it took longer than expected to get supplies." I fume angrily to myself, he wants me to lie to the Lieutenant. But then I think I haven't had a real meal in quite a while and my stomach growls at the thought. I nod my head in agreement. He looks to the giddy Kurtz and says to him, " Kurtz if don't tell the Lieutenant we were here, I'll buy you a beer." Kurtz eyes widen, "A beer, a real beer!" He says excitedly. Obrenski smiles, I glare at Obrenski astonished at the fact that he is willing to bribe the minor's silence with alcohol. 

After about twenty minutes, the waiter returns with three white plates and on them sits the objects of our affections. The waiter sits down the plate of sizzling steak and buttery mash potatoes. Then comes Kurtz plate of steamy seven inch long golden brown bratwurst and relish on the side. And finally me, large slices of honey baked ham steamily glimmers in front of me. You can see the brown crystals of sugar glazed upon the beautifully cooked hams surface. Delectable white beans spill across the plate. All discipline leaves me as, with fork and knife in hand, I tear into the freshly cooked food. The waiter looks to Obrenski and hands him the check saying "Now if I catch you taking money from these kids, I'll send you to the lieutenant myself."  Obrenski grins as he takes the check.  The waiter leaves us, Kurtz gleefully munches on his lunch while Obrenski carefully cuts and examines his brown still sizzling steak with a mild pink center. I savor my hams delicious taste of brown sugar and salty meat. I haven't had food like this in quite a while, I silently thank Obrenski for this edible joy.