A Benz comes around the corner with two rather elderly looking men in feldgrau who take my baggage, Landstürmeren.*

I offer the two cigarettes, the driver takes one and puts it behind his ear, the other shakes his head. “I have a pipe in the evening, but I do not like to suck burnt paper into my lungs.”

They drive me through the village, past the main square and the church, and across the little Selle River.

We take a gravel road south out of town. On the right side of the road are practice trenches where Feldgrauen are preparing themselves for the Big Push.


*the Landstrüm was the third tier reserve force, primarily used for home defense, but by this time in the war they were being used to replace younger men who were being sent to the front line units.

The Flugplatz is beyond the town, near what the driver tells me is Rambourleiux Farm.

We pass by a large wooden, barn style hangar on the north end of the field. There are tent hangars on both sides of the landing field, so we must share it with another Staffel. The driver has to slow down as a few chickens scamper across the road.

We pass two smaller wooden hangars to stop in front of a low white brick building, with an atrium. This houses the Schreibstube* for both Staffeln. A large crow proclaims his ownership of the chimney.

Inside I state my business to an elderly civilian, another Helferinnen.

While I sign in, the Offizier zur besonderen Verwendung is called, a Leutnant Sebastian Miltner.* I salute him, then we shake hands and introduce ourselves. He’s one of those people who have a permanent expression of slight surprise. I am to take a seat and wait to be called to the Staffelführer’s office. The Leutnant will see to my quarters assignment and have my baggage taken there.


* Schreibstube – literally, writing room, or office. The term is used for what the American military calls the ‘Orderly Room.’

*the OzbV for Jasta 54s is not known. This name is just from a WOFF generated roster.

The building is rather crowded with desks, chairs and partitions. Both Staffelführern share one office, with a partition between their desks.

I’m looking out the window when I feel a hand clap me firmly on the shoulder. I look up into the smiling face of Leutnant Paul Erbguth, who has come to bring me into the office himself.

“Good to see you Felix!”

“It is good to be seen Herr Leutnant.”

Looking at me from behind his legs is a pup, a Schäferhund.

“And who is this?”

“This is Elsie, the Werkmeister’s dog had pups at Phalempin.”

I hold out my hand for her to sniff, “Hello Elsie. Will you come?”

She smells me but backs away behind Erbguth’s boots again.

“A little shy, she’s young yet.”

I follow Erbguth as he limps into his shared office.* The door is on Erbguth’s side of the partition between the two commander’s desks. I can see the other Staffelführer, Oberleutnant Franz Schleiff at his desk.

Erbguth explains, “We share everything with Staffel Fifty-six,” as he takes his seat. Elsie scampers to get behind his chair.

I come to attention, give a smart salute and a click of the heels. “Offizierstellvertreter Eber reports for duty Herr Leutnant.”

He smiles and returns my salute, obviously still not used to his exalted position. “At ease Felix…Bitte setz dich.” In his Saxon accent it comes out “Bidde sedz dich.”(Please sit).

Elsie peeks out from behind the desk as I take my seat.

“I am happy to have you join us. We need all the experienced Jagdfliegern we can get.

“As you can see, we are not fully operational at the moment.”

“There are only five of us who have experience as a Frontflieger, you, Leutnants Seewald, Matzke, OffzSt Behneke and myself. You four will be my Kettenführeren. We have seven Hasen at the moment.”

“I have some special duties for you. So, at present, you will have only one of the Anfänger* to care for and there are two for each of the others.”


*Erbguth received a leg wound on 20 Apr 1915, while serving with Kgl. Sächs. 8. Infanterie-Regt. Prinz Johann Georg Nr.107, part of 58. Infanterie Division.

* Anfänger - beginner, novice, plural and singular are the same.

“I will need you to give Leutnant Seewald a bit of help with his two Küken (chicks). He is a Neuling himself, only flew with us in Thirty for a few weeks before I brought him here with me. I would not have given him a Kette, except that two weeks is more experience than most of the men in the Staffel.”

“So, there are twelve of us at the moment and only three alter Methusalems,* Albatros OAWs. We’re supposed to be getting the Pfalzeinsitzer * soon. But how soon is anybody’s guess. Everything is hectic with the Amerika Programm and the preparations for the Big Push.”

“I am up to my neck in Amtßchidmmel*so the four of you are going to have to shoulder the burden of the training with the Hasen.”


* Methusalem – an old machine is often referred to as an alter Methusalem/old Methuselah

* Pfalzeinsitzer – Pfalz single seater. Pfalz translates as Palatinate, a region in Bavaria.

*Amtßchidmmel-Office Mold, i.e. Red Tape.

“I am afraid none of you are going to be popular, you in particular. I need you to be the drill instructor, make them do exercise, run, marches, there can be no Fliegerwetter in this Staffel. If they cannot fly, they need to be preparing in other ways rather than playing Skat and smoking while they are drinking up what liquor we have.”

“Our supply situation is still quite disorganized and it comes thick.* You are going to find the fare rather poor in the Kasino. We are still reliant on the Ettapendepoten.(rear area depots) Everything is Kriegsersatz and ‘Heer und Flotte.’ (Army and Fleet rations) Some rather disgusting stuff at times.”

“Oberleutnant Turck has told me that you can be of help with the supply situation.”

“Perhaps you can write poetry for us. Gell?” *

I shrug, “Perhaps.”

“So, I will arrange for Sebastian and Leutnant Klink from Fifty-Six to get with you and see how you can be of help."

He smiles, “I understand you have some connections for coffee, sugar and good tobacco. I would like you to put priority on these items…strictly for morale purposes, of course. My own cravings have nothing to do with it. Gell?”

Returning the smile, “I know where I should be able to get some sugar right away. Perhaps some livestock as well. We were at Boistrancourt in November and December and I have some favors to call in there."

“Well, I am sure you will want to be settling in. Our quarters and the Pilotenkasino are across the field, at Rambourleiux Farm.”

“Jawoll, Herr Leutnant.”

“Paul…please, at least in informal situations.”

“Of course…Paul.”

“Before I go, I have a little something to correct your personal supply situation.” I take a box from the small case I carried in.

“Mensch! How did you get these? L. Wolff! Before the war, von Gott!”*

“Do you really want to know?”

He laughs, “I suppose it is best that I do not.” After inhaling the contents deeply, he places the box next to an ashtray made from a Mercedes piston.

“Actually, I got them with the help of Jacob Wolff from Jasta 17, he is the son of one of the founders of the company and still has in interest in it. He’s still in the Heimat, recovering from his wound. They have a store in Berlin.”



*This phrase - Vielleicht läßt er sich dichten - Maybe he can write poetry. Means something like, maybe you can fix it or work a miracle.

The phrase doesn’t translate well, especially the use of ‘he’ when it is yourself you are speaking of. I changed it a little to make it more palatable.


*wenn es dick kommt - Literal translation: when it comes thick. English equivalent of, ‘when times are tough.’

*“Mensch!” – Man! Used much like it would in English like ‘Oh man that’s good!’

“Well, you certainly know how to make yourself welcome. I appreciate this more than you can know. I’ve been smoking horrible Schützengrabenzigarre (Trench cigars) for weeks now.”

“Not all of us can get by on beauty.”

“No, we cannot.” He says, pulling his large aquiline nose, red and weatherbeaten from its constant exposure to the sun and wind.



NOTE: I decided to make Erbguths tobacco preference cigars.

L. Wolff/Loeser und Wolff, was a popular brand of Cigar during the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

It was established by Loeser and Carl Wolff, Jacob Wolff’s father.

These cigars would have been of higher quality than what was being produced at the time. In the fiscal year 1915-1916, compulsory management of tobacco began, with a resultant lower quality overall.

Jacob Wolff of Jasta 17 was an interesting man. Look him up.

I prepare to leave, but then remember, “Oh yes, I almost forgot. I met your old Kamerade Otto Fuchs on a train. A skinny fellow, with the head of a bird. He sends you his… ‘love and kisses.’”

Erbguth laughs, “That’s Otto! The verdammt Damendarsteller!* He liked to dress up in one of the Schwestern aprons and hat when Marwitz’s sister brought them over. He thought this the height of humor and he particularly liked to make cow eyes at Holthusen, because it made him uncomfortable. Everyone went along, he could be very entertaining.”

“Went to one of the Bazi Staffeln.* How is he?”

I reply, “Seventy-seven B at Habsheim, down in Alsace. He’s settling in well. Looks in reasonably good health and spirits. I knew him briefly at AFP 6* while he was awaiting assignment. A good fellow.”

Erbguth remembers something else he wanted to say, “Oh yes, we’re still as short of technical personnel as we are of aircraft, but you will have one of your Monteur*(fitters) from Eighteen, a Gefreiter Schnorr.”

“Ah, Heinrich, I knew he was Saxon. He must have gotten orders after I left the Staffel. Good man.”

“I think that’s all, unless you have something to discuss.”

I shook my head in the negative.

“Well then, dismissed! And again welcome to Sachischstaffel Vierundfünfzig.” (Saxon Staffel Fifty-Four)

I got to my feet, saluted and turned to go. As I opened the door, I quickly turned around. As I thought, Elsie was coming out from behind the desk and skittered back when I turned around.

“Elsie, you must not be so shy.” I squat down and hold out my hand to her.

She comes out to smell the hand, then backs away again. “I will have something for you next time, we must get to know one another.”

Erbguth pats his lap and she jumps up onto him as I leave.



*Portrayers of women, cross dressers. I know nothing of Otto Fuchs’ sexual orientation, other than that he married Emilie Hussong, a fellow artist, after the war.
For those of you who have never served in the military, this is a very common sort of prank among soldiers.

*Bazi – again, this term has a number of meanings. In Bavaria and Austria it is used to describe a mischievous boy and is somewhat derogatory. It is also a slang term for a Bavarian. It was used as a spitzname for some Bavarian pilots in the Luftwaffe during the 2nd war, Josef Menapace and Robert Weiss.

*AFP 6 – Armee-Flugpark, near Valenciennes. Fuchs was there in January and February 1917, where Eber was being used as a ferry pilot at that time.

*Monteur – A French term used by the Germans for fitters. It was also used as a generic name for any ground crewman.













CAPTION: ‘Schwester’ Fuchs, making eyes at Hans Holthusen. To Holthusen’s left is Erbguth and von der Marwitz. Next to Fuchs is von der Horst, Obltn Bethge is next, then Obltn Kurt Grasshoff, commander of Jasta 37, Ltn Douglas Schnorr, OzbV is last.
The nurses are, left to right, Frl von Arnim, Ilsa von der Marwitz, Frau Kuhlenkamp and Frl Kuhlenkamp.

Jasta 77b: According to information Fuchs gave Bruno Schmäling, he was temporary commander for a short period in March 1918. Fuchs is not known to have been on leave at this time in January 1918. Let’s say he just had a short leave during the inactive Winter.

NOTE ON OTTO FUCHS:
Otto Fuchs began his flying career in FA (A) 292b, spent a few days with Jasta 11, then was transferred to Jasta 30. As a result of the Amerikaprogramme expansion, he was transferred to Jasta 77b. He was serving as acting commander of Jasta 77b while Leutnant Walter Ewers was on leave. This was a responsibility he bore through the tremendous strains of Operation Michael during late March and early April 1918, after which he was given his own independent command over Jagdstaffel 35b. By this point Fuchs' nerves had been stretched to their limit. After the death of Leutnant Walter Ewers, Fuchs was eventually given command of his old unit, Jagdstaffel 77b.

This was arranged by way of a trade with fellow artist and acting commander Leutnant Rudolf Stark. He had however, in the meantime, pressed for a very necessary, but long withheld, recuperative leave. This was granted, and was followed by a posting to a flight school, which allowed Fuchs a better opportunity to recover. He was only able to rejoin Jagdstaffel 77b, by then under the command of Leutnant Max Gossner, five weeks before the end of the war. At the same time he was reunited with his brother Rudolf, with whom he had served in FA (A) 292b, and who had since trained as a pilot and arranged to be transferred to Otto's unit.




CONTINUED -

25 JANUAR, CONTINUED -

132

When I come out, Leutnant Miltner escorts me across the Flugfeld to show me my quarters.

I observe him while we walks. He wears the uniform of Badisches Grenadier Rgt. Nr. 10. On his Waffenrock are the Beobachterabzeichen, Eisernes Kreuz erster Klasse, and the green ribbon of the Orden vom Zähringer Löwen zweiter Klass.* So presumably, a Badener, though he speaks with a strong Saxon accent. He’s one of those who has the irritating habit of ending every other sentence with, ‘Gell’,

He has a pronounced limp and there seems to be some problem with his left arm and hand.

We pass by one of the Hallen* and I look through the window. The Werkmeister is in there, obviously hard at work, contemplating one of our three alte Albatros-Tanten. * It has a green horizontal plane, with a white vertical stabilizer and rudder as a Staffelkennung.

*Observers badge, Iron Cross 1st Class and the Order of the Zähringer Lion, second class. The Zähringer Lion usually soon followed for the Baden officers awarded the Iron Cross 1st Class.


*Waffenrock – uniform tunic.

*Hallen – Hangar, usually a more or less permanent structure rather than just a tent.

* alte Albatros-Tanten – old Albatros Aunties, a term used for old, worn out machines, a fond expression usually.





CAPTION: This is the obverse and reverse of the medal.

In our part of the Flugplatz, you see everywhere, the green and white cockade of Saxony and belt buckles with the motto “PROVIDENIA MEMOR” stamped on them.*


* Bearing the providence in Mind








The business of the Staffel is conducted in Hochdeutsch. So all the paperwork, rosters, written announcements are in the official language. The Kingdom of Saxony is, after all, a part of the Deutsches Kaiserreich.

But, among the lower ranks, one hears the Saxon dialects spoken. Mostly, Obersächsisch, this is the French sounding Meissen, or Thuringian-Upper Saxon pronunciation, in which the jaw is firm, the lips don’t move very much, and the tongue stays far back in the mouth. This results in a darker and more rounded pronunciation of vowels and a softness to the consonants [p], [t] and [k], which sound like [b], [d] and [g].

Some speak one of the many deviations of the language in Saxony. In the Upper Lusatian dialect, for example, a rolled “American” sounding [r] can be heard.*


*I’m no linguist. I added these few details to try to give some atmosphere to this regional unit.

This information is from the Babel website:

The Meissen Obersächsisch was considered the language of the educated Germans from the 14th to the 16th century. It was into this dialect that Martin Luther translated the Bible. It played a large part in the development of the Early New Standard German used today, which came to be known as Hochdeutsch, (High or Standard German) because it replaced the Northern German dialects. People who wanted to be able to read Luther’s translation had to learn this form of German. The Southern dialects were close enough to this standard form that they could understand it.

With the fall of Saxon power after the Seven Years’ War (1756-1763) and the rise of Prussia, the Upper Saxon dialect lost its prestige and became practically extinct.

What is referred to as Upper Saxon now cannot be truly considered a dialect. It is a colloquial, regional variety of Standard German.

There is a DVa in front of the large Halle on this end of the field in factory varnish, no special markings at all. Probably procuring paint is a problem as well. I can see I have much work to do. Where’s Malmann when you need the Miststück.

The wings are covered with the Bundfarbenaufdruck fabric.*

There are more DVas inside the Flugzeugzelten* we pass on the other side of the field. Fifty Six, a Prussian Staffel, is well ahead of us in acquisition of aircraft, it seems. I can only imagine what this regional Staffel business has done to the flow of aircraft to the new units.

Politics, always politics.


* Flugzeugzelt – airplane tent/tent hangar

*Bundfarbenaufdruck- waistband color print – this term is used as a generic description for colored prints, including the Lozenge camouflage patterns used by the Germans.










Miltner takes me to one of the three requisitioned cottages on the farm. He points out the center cottage, which is being used as the Pilotenkasino.

The quarters for the Sachesstaffel are in the white cottage on the left. Somone has painted a sign over the door, which says ‘SACHSENHEIM’* the usual name for a rear area rest camp in the Royal Saxon Army.

Above the sign is a painting of the Wappen of the Kingdom of Saxony with a picture of a young King Albert in the center. Why King Albert, rather than our present king, Friedrich August II, I can’t fathom.

Miltner shows me my room. I was expecting to share a room, and the enlisted pilots do so, but I will not, at least for now. Some of them are housed on the top floor of the Pilotenkasino.

Of course, when I say I have my own room, it means that I have a walled off portion of one of the rooms in the house. This room is on the upper floor and has been divided in two. I have the side with the door, whoever has the other side has a cut out space with a curtain leading to the hall.

My bags are here and my kit has been sent by Malmann. My English hip boots, Fliegerkombination , coat, silk scarves and shirts, gloves, goggles, Fliegerkopfhaub.* Everything seems to have gotten here without being damaged or pilfered.


*Saxonhome.


* Fliegerkopfhaub - Pilot’s flying cap

Miltner shows me where all the accommodations are, then prepares to leave, “If there is anything else you need.” He laughed, “Well… we probably don’t have it, but I can put it on the wish list. Gell?”

“Understood Herr Leutnant, soon perhaps, we can shorten that list a bit.”

“Yes, we’ll talk soon. Gell?”

When I have stowed most of my gear, I go over to the Pilotenkasino to get acquainted.

The Staffelmaler have gotten around to labeling it with a sign while I was settling in. One of them is still by the door, having a smoke.

He seems lost in thought. When he notices me approaching he seems confused as to whether he should put down the cigarette or the paint can.

I wave my hand at him. “No, no. At ease, enjoy your smoke. God sees the intention of the heart, that is what counts.” I walk on past and enter.








As I approach the door, I can hear ‘Die Liebe vom Zigeuner Stammt’ (The Love Comes from the Gipsy) playing, they must have Erbguth’s gramophone set up and he is probably inside.

der Häuptling (the Chief),*as I have been told Erbguth is called, is indeed inside, talking to Seewald and another young Leutnant, who turns out to be Matzke.

“I was just telling them that you had arrived to save us.” He turned to them, “Now all will be well.”

I hold out my arms and say, “I am the Door; anyone who enters through Me will be saved, and will go in and out, and find pasture.” *

Seewald and Erbguth know of my blasphemous nature and laugh, but Matzke looks shocked.

A religious one?

After handshakes, Erbguth suggests to me, “Try the beer, it’s the least disgusting of what we have to drink.”

It’s poor, weak stuff indeed, but palatable.

Elsie stays close to Erbguth. She puts her ears down every time I look at her.

Seewald has brought with him a Jack Russell pup from the brood at Phalempin, Blitz. Very lively is Blitz.




* Häuptling – Chief/ Häuptlinge plural. Unser Häuptling – our chief/der Häuptling – the chief


*John 10:9

I meet my new Staffel-Kameraden as they drift in and out.

Two enlisted pilots from our Staffel, fresh out of Jastaschule I, Gefr. August Schwind and Uffz Wilhelm Rincke

A pair of Leutnants, also fresh from Valenciennes. Erbguth calls them the twin Gustavs, Gustav Bürck and Gustav Ecke.

Ltn Miltner, the OzbV comes in with Ltn Hans Nissen, yet another Häschen.

Another Neuling comes in alone, Uffz Helmut Preiss.

I do not yet meet Ltn d R Bernhard Benninghoff, as he’s duty officer today.

Later, just before Mittageßen is served, Eine alte hasen* Offizierstellvertreter Behneke, comes in. He has been out working on the Maschinen with the Mechaniker and wears an oily, dirty gray drill jacket.

He has a face that only a mother could love, broken nose, cauliflower ears, rather thick skin. A boxer’s face.

With him is a large sheep dog, Kaiser.

Each of the Staffeln have their own long table, or rather a series of tables pushed together.

I sit next to Preiss who has a space by him at the end of our table, it appears that no one wants to sit by him.

Before the meal, Erbguth makes the usual toast to the Kaiser, I assume the Jastaführern take turns, to which he added another to “Friedrich August III, König von Sachsen!”

He adds, “Our motto is ‘Kameraden in der Luft, Kameraden in der Erden;* we are all one family. To Kameradschaft (Comradeship)!”

All drink the toasts and beat on the table in agreement.

The fare is indeed quite poor. A stew of fleischkonserve und Drahtverhau, there was also something I at first mistook for potatoes…turnips. There is Pumpernickel bread or if preferred, hartkeks , Wegenschmiere.*

This is accompanied by a watery beer, or actual tea and Ersatz coffee, made from Beet root, which tastes like dirt.

But there is enough of it. Erbguth gives me a meaningful look from his end of the table, “Hai (Hey), we’re not eating rats…yet.”

From the other end of the table, I disagree, “A rat would be most welcome, you simply have to know how to prepare it properly.”

This elicits a laugh from the assembled pilots, but it’s true, many is the time when I’ve dined on rat with satisfaction.

Leutnant Reinhold Dyckhoff, our Werkmeister, appears after the meal has begun, coming to table with still rather greasy paws and filthy, chipped fingernails. Just the kind of fellow you want working on your Maschine.


*Comrades in the air, Comrades on the ground.

* Eine alte hasen - An old Hare, used to refer to any veteran soldier, whatever his branch. Like ‘an old sweat.’

*Drahtverhau – barb wire entanglement. Slang for issue mixed dried vegetables

Fleischkonserve – tinned meat, pork or beef, sometimes labeled schinken (Ham)

Pumpernickel has a long shelf life and so was used extensively for rations.

Wegenschmiere – wagon grease, poor quality margarine

Hartkeks – hard bread, hardtack

After I speak with Preiss during the meal, I deduce the probable cause of his apparent unpopularity. He speaks with a strong Swabian, or as he says “Daitsch”* accent, and Saxon and Württemberg troops are like oil and water.

I hadn’t seen his cap and hadn’t noticed the motto on his belt buckle: ‘FURCHTLOS UND TREUE’ (FEARLESS AND FAITHFUL)

I speak to him in his beloved schwäbisch, which seems to surprise him a bit.

He’s a decent enough fellow to talk to and could fit in if he wanted to. But he obviously does not. He seems instead to have gone out of his way to make himself as welcome as a Furz in a Testudo.

He has the usual ‘grantig’ attitude of one of the members of that tribe, that the Swabian is a better soldier than a Saxon and says he suffers from being Diaschbora because he was assigned to this Staffel.

Now perhaps Erbguth’s toast emphasizing Comradeship takes on more meaning.


* Daitsch – what the Swabians call themselves

* grantig – Swabian, 1. arrogant; haughty; 2. surly; sullen.

* Diaschbora - exile. Desperate mental condition of any Swabian, who has to live apart from his tribe.

NOTE: The Swabians are, in the opinion of the rest of the Germans as the Scotts are to the English.









To make the matter worse, he has already put in for a transfer to a Württemberg Staffel. He’s from the same class at Jastaschule as most of the others and there had been something of a truce between himself and these others until this.

The rest of these young pilots naturally consider this an insult to themselves, their Staffel and their Kingdom.

This is sausage to me,* of course, having not had a national or regional identity in many centuries. I am truly a ‘citizen of the world.’ In war, I take the side that pleases me at the moment or that I think will win.

I chose to fight with Germany in this war for both reasons. I have a long history with, and affinity for, the Germanic peoples, especially the Saxons. I rather thought the Kaiser’s army would win. Now, I’m not so sure.


*Das ist mir Wurst –idiom meaning, I don’t care.

Of course, when I say that I have an affinity for the Saxons, I don’t mean the Kingdom of Saxony that exists within the Reich today.

Rather I spent a great deal of time with the true and original Saxon people of the North, the Ealdeseaxe.*

It was from them that I took the name Eber.


*Ealdeseaxe – Old Saxony










NOTE Kingdom of Saxony: During the High Middle Ages, under the Salian emperors and, later, under the Teutonic Knights, German settlers from the duchies of Saxony, Franconia, Bavaria, Thringia and Flanders, moved east of the Saale into the area of a western Slavic tribe, the Sorbs. The Sorbs were gradually Germanized. This region subsequently acquired the name Saxony through political circumstances, though it was initially called the March of Meissen. The rulers of Meissen acquired control of the Duchy of Saxe-Wittenberg (only a remnant of the previous Duchy) in 1423; they eventually applied the name Saxony to the whole of their kingdom. Since then, this part of eastern Germany has been referred to as Saxony (German: Sachsen), a source of some misunderstanding about the original homeland of the Saxons, with a central part in the present-day German state of Lower Saxony (German: Niedersachsen).











NOTE, SAXON PEOPLES: The Saxons were a group of Germanic peoples whose name was given in the early Middle Ages to a large country (Old Saxony, Latin: Saxonia) near the North Sea coast of northern Germania, in what is now Germany. In the late Roman Empire, the name was used to refer to Germanic coastal raiders, and in a similar sense to the later "Viking" (pirate or raider). Their origins are believed to be in or near the German North Sea coast where they appear later, in Carolingian times. In Merovingian times, continental Saxons had been associated with the activity and settlements on the coast of what later became Normandy. Their precise origins are uncertain, and they are sometimes described as fighting inland, coming into conflict with the Franks and Thuringians. There is possibly a single classical reference to a smaller homeland of an early Saxon tribe, but its interpretation is disputed. According to this proposal, the Saxons' earliest area of settlement is believed to have been Northern Albingia. This general area is close to the probable homeland of the Angles.










After the long centuries of serving with the disciplined Legions, I found these warrior peoples and their style of fighting to my liking. The warbands were much less organized and more emphasis was placed on individual skill and valor.

They had no kings, rather they were under their own Lords, Ealdormen, one of which was chosen every year to lead the whole of the Seaxe. These leaders were not remote overlords like the Roman Emperors but warriors, who led their people by example.

I fought with them against the Franks and other enemies. I was with Widukind, during his struggle against the Frankish King Charlemagne who was determined to force the Seaxe to abandon their old gods and ways. To make them, like themselves, the Slaves of Christ, and make them bend the knee to a king.






















In this, after three years of fighting and the destruction of the Irminsul,* he succeeded. When he realized he would be defeated, Widukind, as you would expect from one of his class, submitted in exchange for his life and the recognition of the noble status of the Ealdormen, Aethelings and Theigns.**


*Irminsul – In Germanic and Nordic religion a pillar or tree, connecting heaven and earth.
*Tribal leaders, Nobels, and Noble warriors bound to a Noble.
Aethelings – Princes and other high nobility.
Ealdormen – Tribal chiefs, Earls

The lower classes, the Ceorls, continued to resist conversion from their pagan beliefs, forced baptisms and forced tithing, for another century.

Before that, I raided with warbands from the Jutes, Seaxe, Angles, Frisans, Danes, Geats (Goths), the same peoples I defended Britannia against while with Legio VI Victrix. Many good comrades I had among these peoples. I knew Hengst and Horsa. Legends grew up around these two Jute brothers which have little or nothing to do with them. As with most legends, there is usually a small kernel of truth.**

**I have no evidence of this and all historical evidence points the other way, that they are just the creation of legend. But, this is my story and I choose to make it so.

It was during this turbulent time that I met and married the shield maiden Beomia. Six feet tall she was, and nearly as strong as any mortal man. We fought as a team, myself attacking with the long sword or ax while she protected me with spear and shield.

It was in this way that she lost her life. Defending a man who could not die because of my rashness. So you can see the double guilt I felt when I lost the Albatros-Kiste that was named for her. It was as if the story had repeated itself. There have been many Beomias through the years, horses, dogs, or swords.

My grief and guilt unhinged my mind for a time and I was a berserkir, giving myself over completely to that part of myself that is most like my progenitor, not trying to hide what I truly am. I was, from time to time, declared a Dreag, or as the Norse say Draugar, a reanimated corpse and driven away. Some of my traits could certainly suggest that.








I inspired a legend of which the Scop* sang, now long forgotten, of a Theign, Ebergund, who died in battle but could not enter Waelheall.* He was rejected by Allfather Woden because one of his Waelcyrie* fell in love with him. He was doomed to die again and again, only to awaken in Middengeard.*



*Middengeard -Middle enclosure, the world inhabited by men.

Scop – Bard.

Waelcyrie - Valkyrie

Waelheall – Valhalla









Even after fifteen centuries I miss her and still feel the pain of her loss as freshly as I did on that day.

There are many people, both men and women, that I feel as though I have met again time after time. But I have never met another like Beomia.



TO BE CONTINUED -