Exactly 70 years ago something happened to me, that really shook me up.
At this time I was a student in Munich, studying chemistry. My wife was back in Iceland with our 1 year old boy, while I stayed in Germany at a student dormitory in Munich.
One evening during the Christmas break of 1955, I went to the cinema to see a movie. Few students remained at the student dormitory on Turkenstrasse (Munich), as most of the German students had gone home for the holidays. The weather outside was cold and it had snowed a bit. Very few Christmas lights were out in the street, as no one had any money for such things after the war. People still found time to meet up, have some Glühwein and roasted almonds. A bunch of young people has gone to the movies and saw a Hollywood musical along with me, I forget which movie it was. Everyone had a good at least and some positive Christmas spirit had touched all of them.
When I returned from the movies that night, I passed by the dorm kitchen and saw a foreign student heating soup as the others had all left the kitchen by then. He was in his own world in deep thought, probably thinking about his family back home. I tossed him a cheerful greeting before retreating to my room and settling into bed. Everything seemed normal and nothing was out of the ordinary that night.
I awoke in the middle of the night to someone pounding on my door, I ignored it, assuming it was past midnight. Soon after, I drifted back to sleep, only to be jolted awake again by the same thunderous knocking. Again, I didn’t answer, figuring some of the remaining students had been out drinking. It was after all, a Saturday night during the holidays. But then the thunderous hammering came a third time, furious and unrelenting. This was someone either very strong or very drunk. I’d had enough of this nonsense.
I flung myself out of bed bristling with anger and tore open the door, ready to chew the head of whoever was hammering my door. No one stood there in front of the door, or in the hallway. Right away I smelled a thick acrid stench of gas flooding the hallway and the entire floor.
Surprised and alarmed, I covered my mouth and jolted to the kitchen where I found that the pot of soup boiled dry. The flame under the pot was extinguished and the gas was hissing unchecked from the stove. It had been hissing for some time. I immediately twisted the knob shut and threw open all of the windows.
Then I saw the foreign student slumped over and asleep, oblivious to the danger the he cad caused for everyone. Gas alone could kill, but worse, it could have caught on fire and turned the entire building to rubble. I kicked him in the foot and gave him a peace of my mind. He didn’t do that again.
Back in my room, I lay awake, haunted by a single question: Who had been hammering at my door so urgently and had, in doing so, averted disaster?
I didn’t really know what had happened but I it to be a helpful ghost from the war, knocking on my door to save my life and the others on my floor, that fateful night. They do stuff like that sometimes.
