Last Day in Germany
We enjoyed a beautiful, heavy snowfall here in Bernkastel on Sunday. The sky started spitting sleet in the morning, then shifted to tiny flakes which gradually grew into big, feathery flakes. By the afternoon, the snow finally tapered off.
With slippery roads, we decided to explore more of town on foot. I hiked up Burgstraße to see if I could locate the soldiers’ graves from World War II. There’s usually a cluster of them in every small town. Sure enough, I found them hidden in a corner of the cemetery behind the Church of the Holy Ghost.
Rain and warmer temps melted the snow by Tuesday and we felt confident to drive again. We located an old Jewish cemetery high in the vineyards overlooking Bernkastel. A small plaque explained that Jewish cemeteries traditionally were not allowed to be built near villages.
There were no graves with dates later than 1932. Many of the headstones were cracked or shattered. Sometimes, just shards were left, arranged in a pile on the ground. Perhaps these were desecrated on Kristallnacht in 1936?
One headstone in particular caught my eye. A boy, Gerhart Schoemann, was just six when he died in 1927. The inscription in German read “…here rests our dear son and brother… loved, wept over and remembered”.
It had been struck with a heavy object and cracked into four pieces.
After soaking in that sad history, we drove to the top of another nearby hill to visit Burg Landshut with a commanding view over the Moselle and Bernkastel. Along the path, we came across a quiet chapel built in the 1890s.
Displays around the castle showed evidence that it had been built in the Middle Ages over Roman ruins. Workers had even unearthed a sarcophagus.
Now, the castle ruins defend a warm cafe where we enjoyed a couple of beers and an outstanding view over the valley.
After that break, we ventured down the road alongside the Moselle, stopping at small towns on both sides of the river along the way.
Of course I had to stop and investigate the numerous memorials. Many were first erected after World War I with additional plaques added after WWII.
One list included names of the town’s civilians who “fell in their home”, presumably from bombing raids. I noticed the dates all lined up from November 1944 to March 1945 when the American army finally arrived.
Driving back this evening, we pulled over and took a photo of sunset over the vineyards and Moselle river. That’s an incredibly high bridge they’re building over the valley.
We’ve greatly enjoyed the scenery and history in this quiet corner of southwest Germany. Here’s mom waving farewell from the kitchen window at the top of Haus Astor in Bernkastel.
We’ve taken the opportunity to visit Belgium, the Netherlands, Germany and Luxembourg during this trip. Now, we’re ready to get home. We have a drive to Brussels in the early morning and then a flight to Tulsa including a short layover in Atlanta.
See you soon and Auf Wiedersehen!
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