It was WWII. The spry Austrian boy known as Raimund, grew up in a beautiful small village in the Austrian Alps. These were the days before paved roads, supermarkets, and TV. These were the days of the "Greatest Generation". Life was tough. Austria, or the land soon to be named, was taken over by Nazi Germany in 1938, not by force, but by ratification. Austria was Germany.

The little Austrian boy was 15 years old. Dirt poor, Raimund wasn't the type to splurg on life. His family couldn't afford it. I don't know much about his daily life back then, but I do know he was too young to fight. The Hitler Youth, as you may know, was developed to mold the up-and-coming children. It was a propaganda tool used to forward the Nazi movement. He, too, was a Hitler Youth. All young boys were. It was what you did. Although he never saw war, he was instructed to carry a rifle around his village. It wasn't a fancy rifle. In fact, it was an Italian rifle the Germans hated, and therefore passed down to the youngsters. It was too big and the little boy was too small. He proudly dragged it behind him.

The little Croatian girl was 14 years old. Her parents were strong. Her German father was in Hitler's mighty military machine. I'm sure he was an exceptional man fighting for his country in another land. He didn't know Hitler's intentions. Really, nobody did yet. They had two sons and a 14 year old girl whom they cherished. Her name was Helena. Croatia wasn't friendly to Germans after the war. The little girl's father was shot and killed on his front door step. She was nearby. A brother was soon murdered thereafter. The slaughter of Germans by Croation Partisans was acceptable...but not to her.

The little girl and her mother packed up their horse and buggy for a long one way trip north. I'm sure they had no idea where they were destined, but they knew, wherever it was, it was better than death.

I can only imagine the dusty roads, the lack of food, and the unstoppable tears which flowed down her young face. She was too young for this. The journey was long and her thoughts must've been circling around her not-too-distant past. Her father and brother were gone, and so was her Croatian home. They finally arrived near a little Austrian village called Windischgarsten. It was a small sparkle in the post WWII world. The surrounding, overwhelmingly tough mountains probably reminded her of her strong father. The mother and daughter unpacked the horse and buggy of all their belongings. Their new life would start here.

A few years later she met a striking young man, the poor boy who once dragged his oversized rifle down the local roads. They fell in love...a true love. A love which would bind them through 59 years of marriage. They lived for each other and owned nothing. Soon they would have a child, Walter. They joke that Walter was the first piece of funiture in their house. Although poor, they managed to raise three beautiful and intelligent children. Her past was her past. She had to move on with her life. She moved on with her true love...Raimund.

Helena was Yvonne's grandmother. She passed away last week. She will be missed by all. She was loved by many...Raimund misses you.