Category Archives: Daily Life

Easter Sunday – April 13, 1952

Posted on by under Daily Life, Excerpts, Family
Pictures are of Christ Lutheran Church, Bexley, Ohio, our gracious sponsors.

Mom, Dad, my older brother, and I arrived at Union Station in Columbus, Ohio at 5 :00am, after an all-night train ride from Grand Central Station, New York.

Why Columbus? In those days immigrants needed sponsors that promised jobs for the adults and a place for the family to live. Our sponsor was Christ Lutheran Church, of Bexley, Ohio (a city within Columbus’s city limits).

Ma and Pa Peters, a retired couple, opened their home to us. After arriving, we ate a huge American breakfast of pancakes, bacon, eggs, and toast.

That morning we attended Easter Sunday services at Christ Lutheran. We stood at the front of the church, were introduced, and were welcomed by the church members who had arranged for employment and housing.

Without a sponsor, we could have not come to America.

Thinking back for the three previous months, our “baths” consisted of washing with a rag and a bowl of cold water. Fortunately, before attending church, we took turns bathing in warm water. We had lived in our clothes, without laundering, for the entire 12 days aboard ship.

Thankfully, in our two suitcases, was a second set of clothes for each of us. If we stank, the kind Christians welcomed us anyway. I’m sure Mom and Dad were concerned about the cleanliness issues. I didn’t care. I had eaten a good breakfast!

Thank you Christ Lutheran. Happy Easter to all. He Is Risen.

Not a violin smuggler!

Posted on by under Daily Life, Excerpts, Family

After 12 days crossing the angry north Atlantic, we arrived at Ellis Island on April 12, 1952.

Excerpt from my memoir:

“I remember all one thousand darkly dressed, orderly refugees waiting in lines at customs. We had our two suitcases and Dad’s violin, which he had kept with him on the ship.

The customs agent questioned Dad at length about his violin. Maybe he wanted to confirm that it was really Dad’s. Finally the agent asked Dad to play the violin. Rather than being nervous, Dad relished this opportunity to play in front of such a large audience of scraggly-looking refugees. He enjoyed playing and soaked up the moment. All activity, including talking, stopped in the big hall while he played. When he finished, everyone applauded.”

Legal Aliens

Posted on by under Daily Life, Family, War

It was April 12, 1952: seventy years ago. I saw Lady Liberty from our ship.

We were processed at Ellis Island. Mom, Dad, my brother, and I received our LEGAL ALIEN CARDS. I still have the card. We left behind, hunger, oppression—and began a new life of freedom, rule of law, right to own property, freedom of religion, freedom from fear, and being rewarded for work. All we had to do to live the American Dream was to work hard.

Before being permitted to immigrate, our family was vetted for four years. Mom and Dad had to prove they were not Nazis or communists. They also had to pass a criminal background check. Nazis, like cockroaches scurrying in the light, were trying to hide all over the world. The USSR was already working to destroy the USA and was sending spies. Even my 11-year-old brother was “interrogated” several times. The “interrogators” were matronly ladies, who questioned my brother privately, behind closed doors. What better way to find out what Mom and Dad really thought and had done in the past than to ask a child? We always thought vetting was reasonable and wise.

I look with incredulity at our current southern border. Millions of people from 160 countries are illegally crossing. I suspect that the great majority are coming for the same reasons as my family. They think: “How illegal can it be to cross the border if the federal government gives me a cell phone, and buses or flies me to somewhere in the USA?” Before being processed, many migrants throw away identification documents they had with them. No criminal background checks are done. How many are cartel members, MS-13, gang members, common criminals, murderers, pedophiles, rapists, or terrorists sent by our enemies? The answer: We don’t know. Those who fit those descriptions will prey on American Citizens.

Nazis (National Socialist German Workers Party) killed Jews, Roma, homosexuals, and the handicapped. Twelve million non-Germans were sent to slave labor camps where many perished. The USSR (Union of Soviet Socialist Republics) toll of innocents killed is estimated to range from 40 to 60 million. That is more than the Nazis killed. The communist killing methods of choice were a bullet in the back of the head or to starve in the Gulags. Like countless others, my dear cousin was sent to a slave labor camp where she nearly died.

Cartel and MS-13 members kill with bullets, with the occasional added the twist of dismembering bodies. I see no moral difference between Nazis, communists, cartel members, MS-13, and terrorists. The only difference is the technology used to kill.

It made sense on April 12, 1952, to protect the American people by only allowing immigrants who would be a positive addition to America, to come. It still makes sense.

Crossing the North Atlantic

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Cooks aboard the USS General Ballou during the time they were feeding US Soldiers traveling home after the war.

Seventy years ago, today, Mom, Dad, my brother, and I were sailing across the angry North Atlantic to the promised land. It was the fourth day since embarkation. I was within several months of my 9th birthday. An excerpt from my memoir follows:

“Once the seasickness subsided, we regained our appetites. For the first time in my memory, we had all we wanted to eat. The mess hall was super clean and was brightly lit. Food was served cafeteria-style.

After taking an aluminum tray from one of the tray stacks, we would slide them along three stainless pipes as the American merchant marine sailors plopped food onto the tray. We had never seen so much food! It was delicious!

We ate standing up and, when finished, dropped off our trays. We were not permitted to take food with us to the living quarters. Of course, I would get hungry between meals. In my case I was still feeding the intestinal parasites (worms) I had lived with for years. The worms took their share of nutrition and calories from my food. I was hungry all the time.

On the ship, I wore a dark pair of pants similar to sweatpants, which had elastic at the bottom of the pant legs. I took extra rolls, opened my elastic waistband, and dropped them into my pants. Gravity worked so that the rolls ended up at the bottom of my pant legs, safely held in place by the elastic. I put so many rolls down my pant legs that the bottom of my pants bulged out and I had to walk with my feet apart. Talk about bell-bottom trousers!

The sailors working in the mess hall noticed, smiled, and let me go my way. God bless Americans!”

Christmas sausages, sort of

Posted on by under Daily Life, War

As Christmas approaches, I remember the Christmas season of 1946-1947, in post-WWII West Germany. Ice on the inside walls, electricity 45 minutes per day, and almost no food. We were hungry and it was dark outside.

Mom and Dad usually hid their concerns from us, but this evening, despair hung in the air. As recently arrived refugees, we were still strangers in the village.

An unexpected knock on the door. The daughter of one of the local farmers brought us a large pot of warm water that sausages had been boiled in. The sausages had been fished out, but the fragrance of the fat floating on top was glorious. An overwhelming feeling of thankfulness and joy filled our dimly lit living room. We did not go hungry that night.

I think hardship strengthens us and teaches us to be more compassionate and thankful for what we have.

You might consider my memoir as a Christmas gift. Get your copy on Amazon.com, or you can get a signed copy here on this website.

Fido Burgers

Posted on by under Daily Life, War

My earliest memories all involve being hungry and the fear of going without food. We were starving.

After WWII ended, Mom, my brother and I we lived in Russian occupied East Germany. Russian soldiers did not treat civilians well, especially women. But they never bothered children. My brother and I would go on walks. He was six and I was three. Mom instructed him to always hold my hand.

My brother was fully aware of our serious food situation and took it upon himself to help feed the family.

Unbeknownst to our mother, my resourceful brother used those walks as an opportunity to get food. As we were walking, my brother was on the lookout for anyone, who looked like they could not run fast, and was walking a small dog. Usually, it was an old lady with her little dog that became our target.

My job was to engage the old lady. Invariably, the cute-blond-kid trick worked. The lady would talk to me, and maybe stroke my head. Meanwhile, my brother would pet the dog, making sure it was friendly. Once the lady was fully engaged in a conversation with me, my brother would pick up the dog and sprint away with it. When he was out of sight, that was my signal to run after him as fast as I could.

My brother would then find a middleman, usually a boy around 16, and trade the dog for something valuable. The most common items traded for the dog were cigarettes, a cereal-like of coffee, and socks. All those items were scarce and valuable. He then traded them for provisions. Much of the economy was on the barter system at the time. Cigarettes, in particular, were more valuable than cash. Survival is a powerful instinct. My brother knew the dogs would become fido-burgers, but having something to eat was more important to him than the fate of the dogs.

The above story never made it into my memoir. Had I included all stories, the book could have been useful for weightlifting. I am posting this story to remind people how blessed we are to live in this country. Those who complain about our country, and want to change it drastically, by dancing with socialists and Marxists, have always had the basics of life. They have never experienced true need. We who have experienced starvation, fear, socialism, Marxism, and Nazism, even while young, know that those forms of government lead to tyranny, genocide and want.

If you want to read the stories that did make it into the book get your copy here!

A Tale of Christmas Past

Posted on by under Daily Life, Family, War

The two-hour notice is unexpected. The Mom, her infant and five-year-old depart their ancestral home in the Carpathian Mountains never to return. A baby carriage, a little Cream of Wheat, diapers, and the clothes on their backs are their only belongings. The approaching enemy is on the move.

They board the cattle-car, wounded soldiers and straw-covered floors. The train stops. Track destroyed. Locomotive whistles the warning. “Run. Run!” A 1000 hp engine roars, machine guns bark, a ditch in the wheat field their only cover. They, their internal and external parasites, are now one.

Struggling to survive and little food take their toll. Babies stop crying.

The refugee camps are gray and crowded. Eyes are sunken. Ribs protrude. Disease spreads. Medicines, non-existent. Surgeries without anesthesia.

Journey’s end is a small room in a bombed-to-hell city. No running water, sewers inoperative. Sirens scream “Air Raid!” Basement or bomb shelter? Think quick! Calculate time and distance. The low droning of approaching motors. Distant explosions are now not distant. Hell is here–then goes away. The art of killing is persistent, the will to live more so.

Christmas Eve is quiet. Mom lights a candle and places an evergreen twig into a tin can. They sing Silent Night. Supper is lentil soup; dessert is one apple, carefully peeled, divided and savored.

They cuddle on a mat and sleep.

The cruel Socialist conqueror arrives. Humiliation, unthinkable cruelty, and political indoctrination follow. The Mom has a Patrick Henry moment “Give me Liberty or Give me Death. She and her kids make a midnight-escape across patrolled no-man’s land to freedom.Looking back on that Christmas Eve, all was well. We were together. We were alive.

–Gus Maroscher, Marion, IL

The above is my brother’s Christmas memory. You can read more about how we survive hell on earth, and come to America to live the American Dream in my memoir, available for purchase here.

Hear Gerhard share his story

Posted on by under Daily Life, Excerpts, Family, News, War

Before you buy my memoir, you can watch a few short videos of my story, a story of war, deprivation, courage, perseverance and triumph!

In these videos I invite you to join me by my fireplace while I talk a bit about my history – a few excerpts from my book, in my own voice.

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

My book is available for purchase here, or on Amazon.com.

Burial at sea

Posted on by under Daily Life, Excerpts, War

I remember that a fifty-four-year-old lady died during the trip across the ocean. Her bunk was maybe twenty feet from my bunk. She was buried at sea. 

Her body was on a board and covered with an American flag. The ceremony was dignified. The captain read a few scriptures from an English Bible. I did not understand the words. The board was lifted at one end, and the body, which was wrapped tightly in white sheets, slid into the water. After the body slipped into the water, the ship sailed in a large circle around that location in honor of the deceased passenger.

When I think about this event as an adult, I tear up. She did not make it to the United States, the “Promised Land,” but she was given the honor of being covered by our flag.

Nine people who shared that voyage to the USA have contacted me. All remember the sad event. One was only four years old, two were five, and the rest of us were older. The picture shows the Captain and the ships officers walking to the burial ceremony.

For reviews of my memoir or to purchase a copy visit Amazon.com, or get your own signed copy of my book here.

Fish flushing is dangerous!

Posted on by under Daily Life, Excerpts, Family, War

Even after the war was over, danger would come in sudden and unexpected ways. The excerpt from my memoir is from the time Mom, my brother, and I were living communist East Germany after WWII. 

“One of the places we lived was a multistory apartment building. Fellow tenants included a Russian army officer and his wife. Like almost all Russians, they had never seen running water and flush toilets. To them, a porcelain sink and a porcelain toilet looked the same except for the difference in height.

“Food was scarce for everyone, including the Russians. One day the officer purchased a small fish at a local market in Weimar. There was a little time till lunch, so his wife decided to keep it in one of the flush toilets the residents shared. Mom came to the communal bathroom with us and saw a dead fish floating in the toilet bowl. It never dawned on her that she was looking at someone’s lunch, so she flushed it. Shortly thereafter the officer came in to retrieve his fish and realized Mom had flushed it. He pulled out his pistol and put it to her head and demanded an explanation. My brother remembers those tense moments as Mom tried, in her broken Russian, to explain why she had flushed the fish.”

The book is available on Amazon: https://amzn.to/31H6cSk A story of war, deprivation, courage, perseverance, and triumph.