A Christmas Anecdote from A World Undone, G.J. Meyer's History of the Great War

This is an incident that took place during the first Christmas of World War I. I came across this story in G.J. Meyer's excellent history titled A World Undone. I find the story simultaneously beautiful and sad.

In Flanders, where there had been so much horror, 1914 ended with a strange spontaneous eruption of fellow feeling. On Christmas morning, in their trenches opposite the British near Ypres, German troops began singing carols and displaying bits of evergreen decorated in observance of the occasion. The Tommies too began to sing. Cautiously, unarmed Germans began showing themselves atop their defenses. Some of the British did the same. Step by step this led to a gathering in no-man's-land of soldiers from both sides, to exchanges of food and cigarettes, even to games of soccer.

This was the Christmas Truce of 1914, and in places it continued for more than a day. The generals, indignant when they learned of it, made certain that nothing of the kind would happen again.

* * * 

As we celebrate this holiday season, let us remember those in less than ideal circumstances. Two wars are currently tearing apart many hearts. Countless others are experiencing their first Christmas without a special loved one--parent, child, spouse, close friend. May 2024 be a year of healing for each of you.

Marry Christmas and the very best to all in the year to come. 

An Oppenheimer Anecdote That Adds Another Dimension to How We See the World

Based on the buzz, the film Oppenheimer appears set to be one of a number of much anticipated summer blockbusters. As it turns out, the opening story in my book Unremembered Histories involves the race to build the bomb. It concludes with an anecdote about Robert J. Oppenheimer. 

After I see the film I will share my impressions in a review. In the meantime, here's my original story.

Two Acts That Changed the World  

Of the dozen or so German physicists who had been assigned the task of building a super-bomb for Germany, Wilhelm Kurtweil more than any knew the consequences for humanity should the Nazis become the first to achieve this ultimate quest. Kurtweil had been a leading voice in German physics before the war, was now a respected scientist in the twilight years of a fabulous career.

For him personally, Nazism was an odious blight on the German peoples, but he had remained silent, hoping against hope that the dark season would pass and German character would rise above its brutal cancer. In 1942 he lost this hope.

The super-bomb project was in full swing. The Nazis already dominated Europe. England was about to fall.

His worst fear of all: that the project would succeed and his name be forever associated with its success in bringing the world to its knees at Hitler's feet.

In November he began praying for divine intervention. He did not believe in God, but not knowing where else to turn and hoping that he was wrong, he prayed that God would give him wisdom. The following week he conceived in a dream, visualized with perfect clarity, the formulation for the Atomic Bomb. It was so perfect, so brilliantly conceived, and remarkably clever. He woke in a sweat. With his mind overstimulated he spent the rest of that night hastily scratching notes on scraps of paper. For three successive nights he worked out the details, occasionally catching fitful moments of sleep to sustain his strength.

On the fourth night, he saw clearly the two actions he must take. First, he must find a way to undermine -- without drawing suspicion -- the efforts of his fellow scientists. And second, he must find a way to communicate his findings to the American scientists whom he knew to be actively pursuing the same designs.

The first task was easy enough. He saw clearly that the labyrinthian formula was built on a series of equations which flowed with a counterintuitive divergence from logic at several critical points. How he had seen this so plainly baffled him. In presenting his discoveries to the group, he merely had to re-arrange the equation at two points and the system would forever fail to detonate. Once these two re-arrangements were made, no amount of re-evaluation would point to this particular detail as being faulty. All corrections of the misfire would focus on other areas of the formulation, with over one hundred million permutations. If all went well, it would be ten years before the mistake was discovered.

Though he intended to delay as long as possible the presentation of his conception, he knew he must be the first to present, lest the correct thesis be presented in regards to the critical path. By early spring of 1944 he saw that two of his young proteges were uncovering significant portions of the path and he was forced to the first task. On April seventh, he presented his findings with cool reserve and astounding humility. The team was ecstatic at the breakthrough.

The second task proved more daunting. He must find a way to communicate his findings to a team of American scientists that had assembled in pursuit of the same objective. It was well-known by Nazi intelligence who America's leading scientists were. There were well placed Germans among them. He must secretly make contact and pass along his discovery. So great was his fear of creating suspicions that he never once dared to speak to anyone of his intentions.

In June a secret memo crossed his desk requesting him to cease from all projects not related to the superbomb. An attachment for his eyes only mentioned that it was now going to be a race. The Americans appeared to be making serious progress. Time was not an ally.

Near the end of the attachment he noted a list of names, the names of prominent scientists with whom the German team was in direct competition. Among the names was a certain Robert Oppenheimer. It seemed as if the letters of his name leapt from the page and were branded into his consciousness.

"Oppenheimer," he said to himself.

"Did you say something, Herr Kurtweil?" one of his associates asked.

Kurtweil did not reply. Inwardly he vowed to make contact with Oppenheimer.

By late summer he realized that normal communication channels were closed to him. There was no way he would risk divulging his secrets, for there was no one he trusted. Yes, he knew there were malcontents among the ranks, but the magnitude of the stakes made it impossible for him to risk having such knowledge fall into the wrong hands, that is, Nazi hands.

According to a notation in his journals, on September 12, unable to find sleep, Kurtweil rose from his bed and dressed to go out, perhaps to a cabaret, perhaps for a smoke. When he opened the door he was startled to find a strange stooped man standing on his doorstep.

"What do you want?" Kurtweil said sharply.

"I have watched you, Herr Kurtweil. The destiny of the world is in your hands."

"Who are you? Why are you here?"

"I have come to help you. May I come in?"

Kurtweil was frightened. Did someone know? Had something in his manner betrayed him?

The man put his hand on Kurtweil's arm. "I know the solution to your problem."

Kurtweil began to stammer. He had not been sleeping. He had not had enough rest. He tried to pull back, but the stranger held him firmly.

When their eyes met, Kurtweil saw that he was not in danger. "Come in," he said with resignation.

They walked to the back of the house to Kurtweil’s study. It was badly lit so that the corners remained well cloaked in shadow, as were the recesses of his soul.

The man removed his overcoat. Kurtweil threw it over the back of a chair and gave him an ashen look when his empty hands fell to his sides.

"You understand my dilemma," Kurtweil said.

"Yes," said the man quietly.

They seated themselves and for a long time neither spoke.

"So what must I do?" Kurtweil said.

"You must learn the secret of dreams."

"What do you mean?”

"Dreaming is not a passive encounter with our unconscious, as Freud taught. Jung was more astute. Yet even Jung did not go far enough. I tell you truthfully, the power of the dream exceeds all known powers, and when you have mastered it, you can save the world."

"I don't understand."

"You are a great mind. Have you no imagination? You wish to communicate a great truth to another great mind. You are trapped by circumstance, by geography, by space and time. How is it possible to escape such bounds?"

"If I knew that, I would be..." He broke off.

"You would be... what?"

"God."

"Or...?"

"Or the devil."

"Think again," the man said.

Kurtweil stood up and walked to the window. He saw his face reflected in the glass, illumined as if a mask, his eyes dark hollows. When he turned again, he was alone. The man had disappeared.

From his pocket he pulled a hanky and dabbed at his forehead. He was sweating fiercely and felt a need to take in the night air. Had it been a hallucination? He had not been sleeping well. He had not been sleeping at all, it seemed.

He’d met Carl Jung once. They stood together on a balcony at a party in Geneva fifteen years before. "Consciousness is a portal," Jung had said that night. "When we pass through this portal to the other side, where do we go? When we return, where have we been?" Kurtweil, a practical man, was irritated by Jung at the time. But now, he wondered.

During a press conference in 1947 when he was appointed head of the Atomic Energy Commission, J. Robert Oppenheimer was asked how he solved the problem of pre-detonation and discovered the secret of the bomb. “If I told you the truth you would laugh, so I will only say that it came to me in a dream.”

“What kind of dream, sir? Did you see blueprints or something like that?”

Oppenheimer hesitated a moment, then replied, “Actually, it was someone else’s dream.” This cryptic reply is the only known public reference to Dr. Kurtweil’s second great achievement.

~ ~ ~

Author’s Note: I learned the above story in 1994 while teaching a class for senior citizens at University of MN, Duluth. That spring I’d written a series of articles on ethical issues in terminal health care and as a result had been invited to teach for an afternoon on the pros and cons of assisted suicide. One of the members of the class was a large man whose name now escapes me (I have it written in my notes somewhere, but for the sake of this story I will call him Mr. Jackson) who as a young scientist had been a member of the Manhattan Project. Being a writer I am always interested in a good story. I asked if he had plans for dinner.

Mr. Jackson told me that during the course of the project Oppenheimer had become a changed man. “It happened almost suddenly. Most of us attributed it to the fact that we had had a breakthrough and the Bomb was going to become a reality.”

“I had worked closely with Robert,” Jackson continued, “and sensed it to be something more, so we went out one night and I confronted him. He made me swear oaths of silence, then stated coldly that if the truth were made public he would be considered a lunatic and removed from the project. ‘I could be ruined,’ he said. As we all know the Project was a success and for a time Oppenheimer became a national hero. I’ve often wondered who else knew the source of his inspiration, or whether I was the only one.”

EN, 3-25-06

You can read more stories like this in my book Unremembered Histories: Six Stories with a Supernatural Twist.  Click on THIS LINK

What Should I Write About Today?

I must have started down a half dozen different paths today without being able to settle on a theme to explore on our blog today. Eventually I decided to ask for help by phoning my friend, ChatGPT. Here's the question I asked and her/his reply.

Q. What should I write about today?

A. There are many things you could write about today. Some ideas might include:

• A personal essay about a significant experience or event in your life
• A review of a book, movie, or album you've recently enjoyed
• An opinion piece about a current event or social issue that you feel passionate about
• A descriptive piece about a place you've visited or a person you admire
• A tutorial or how-to article about something you're knowledgeable about or enjoy doing

Ultimately, the best topic for you to write about is one that interests you and that you feel passionate about. Choose a subject that you have a strong connection to, and the writing will come more naturally to you.

The first topic that came to mind was Mammoth Cave in Kentucky. One reason is because of my Kentucky roots. My kin are from Eastern Kentucky and have been so since my great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather Daniel Boone led a community of settlers through the Cumberland Gap to settle in what was then "the west."

I have an interesting anecdote about one of my visits there in the mid-seventies. I will share it after you read about the place. (I asked ChatGPT to write this next part.)

Mammoth Cave is a vast underground labyrinth of caverns, tunnels, and passageways located in central Kentucky. It is the longest known cave system in the world, with more than 400 miles of explored and mapped passageways.

The cave is named for its large size, as many of its passages are tall enough to accommodate a mammoth. It has a rich history, with evidence of human use dating back to the early 19th century. In the early 1800s, a man named Stephen Bishop began exploring the cave and mapping its passageways. Bishop became known as the "patron saint of American cave exploration" and is credited with discovering many of the cave's most famous features, including the Frozen Niagara section, which features a series of stunning waterfalls.

Mammoth Cave is a natural wonder, with a variety of unique geological formations and ecosystems. It is home to many rare and endangered species, including the Kentucky cave shrimp, which is found nowhere else on earth. The cave is also home to a number of bat species, including the endangered Indiana bat.

In 1941, Mammoth Cave was designated a national park, making it one of the oldest national parks in the United States. Today, it is a popular tourist destination, with guided tours available to visitors. It is also an important scientific research site, with studies being conducted on everything from geology and hydrology to biology and paleontology.

Mammoth Cave is a truly incredible place, offering a glimpse into the underground world and a chance to explore one of the most fascinating natural wonders on earth.

* * * 

So here's the anecdote I wanted to share. Mammoth Cave offers visitors a range of tour opportunities, from one to six hours. The various tours take you to various parts of the cave network. On this particular occasion we took the tour that led to the very deepest part of the caves. As we descended down this winding path, through the Fat Man's Squeeze and past networks of stalactites and stalagmites, I kept thinking that the woman in front of me was familiar somehow. 

Keep in mind, we're in Kentucky and I was from New Jersey. 

As we reached the low point in this part of the cavern and the tour guide was announcing this fact, I immediately remembered where I met this woman. "Excuse me, but you look familiar," I said.

"I was thinking the same thing," said she.

Also, just so you can better visualize this, she was probably in her 60s and I was fresh out of college.  

"Are you from New Jersey?" 

"Why, yes. How did you guess?"

"I believe you had a table at the rummage sale in Martinsville."

Well, yes, that was where we met, though I can't recall if she sold me a brownie or was selling quilts. 

As my mother is fond of saying, "Isn't it funny the things we remember?"

EdNote: Illustrations created by DreamAI

Singer/Songwriter Nevada Bob Is A Storyteller, Too

Nevada Bob. Photo: Gary Firstenberg

I've written a few blog posts about Nevada Bob Gordon this past year, chiefly pertaining to some CDs he's recorded in Nashville. He has a Johnny Cash baritone that is easy to listen to. 

In addition to singing, he has also written a memoir titled 50 Years with the Wrong Woman, which he hopes to see published before too long. 

The title, of course, is more for entertainment purposes. His wife, Carol, has been his inspiration from the day he set eyes on her.  In addition to covering other artists, Bob has recorded a half dozen or more songs for Carol.

Nevada Bob is a character through and through, and his memoir shows how much of a character he's been for the past 8-plus decades. This anecdote from his memoir will give you a clue as to where some of this came from. It apparently runs in the family.

Here's an excerpt from his manuscript, which I've been given the pleasure of reviewing. (Used with permission.) 

A Reno Trip with Emily

It was also around this time that Carol and I purchased our new home. Soon after we moved in, I was approached by my grandmother Emily Sharp. Emily was a young-appearing, attractive woman in her early 60’s. She wanted to fly to Reno, Nevada so she could gamble because she loved bingo games. Her husband, Bill Sharp, was working on a job that took him out of the country for extended periods of time, so she asked me to accompany her to Reno. 

Carol was not interested in the slightest in coming with us. This let us take advantage of a particularly lucrative package offered by Reno Casinos; soon, Emily had arranged for her and me to fly as man and wife. During the flight, the stewardesses’ treated me with a fair amount of disdain. I don’t know how they made the connection or assumption that this young man married a wealthy woman, but they definitely had, and throughout the flight they made me very uncomfortable with their glares. 

When we finally reached our destination at our hotel, a young lady got out of the vehicle with us. Trying to be polite, I carried the young lady’s luggage as well as mine and Emily’s into the hotel. I think the girl assumed I was flirting with her. 

After checking in the clerk said aloud, “Mr. and Mrs. Gordon you have room 114.” 

The girl looked at us in disbelief. My crazy grandmother, looking over her shoulder as we walked away, said, “It’s okay honey, he only married me for my money.”

Related Links

Nevada Bob Gordon's Long Train to Nowhere

https://pioneerproductions.blogspot.com/2021/05/come-along-and-ride-nevada-bob-gordons.html

Photo: Bary Firstenberg

A Dave Winfield Anecdote About Giving

Dave Winfield. Photo: Creative Commons

The Dave Winfield story is impressive on many levels. A Baby Boomer, he was born in 1951 and raised in St. Paul, Minnesota. He no doubt had a lot of natural ability, but he developed what he was born with to become an exceptional athlete. Doors were opened for him to pursue basketball and baseball in college. Ultimately he chose a career in baseball, becoming a 12-time MLB All Star during a 22 year career with six teams. 

Noteworthy features of his story are many. His parents were divorced when he was three so that he was raised in an extended family. Like most boys of that era (myself included) he played ball every day in the playground where he honed his skills and instincts and caught the eye of a coach who helped him move to the next level with a full scholarship at the University of Minnesota. By this time he was "all growed up," an imposing figure at six foot six.

Winfield was a first round draft pick by the San Diego Padres. Like Babe Ruth Winfield started as a pitcher, though the Padres also used him in right field so they could take advantage of his bat. By the time he retired he was #22 on the 3000 hit club, a short list of 32 star players. 

From the start he improved each year and in 1977 played in his first All Star game. In 1978 he became Padres team captain and in '79 hit 34 home runs while batting .308. 

I share all this as lead in to my anecdote. He was a star before he reached New York, but in the Big Apple the lights are brighter and headlines bigger. Yankees owner George Steinbrenner set his sights on Winfield once he chose to be a free agent in 1980, and what Steinbrenner wanted he usually got.  

In 1981 Winfield signed a 23 million dollar 10-year contract with the Yankees, becoming. the highest paid player in baseball at the time. (Mike Trout of the Los Angeles Dodgers made a jaw-dropping 396 million dollars in 2019, fwiw.) 

WHAT I REMEMBER MOST is that his contract with George Steinbrenner had a stipulation. Winfield insisted that $300,000 a year be given to the David M. Winfield Foundation which would manage the distribution of this money for disadvantaged kids. By establishing a fund Winfield could focus on baseball. 

What prompted this request? If I remember correctly, now that Winfield was a high profile ballplayer, he was not only receiving fan mail, but also countless letters requesting financial help. "Dear Dave, my mother is going to be evicted from her house unless you can somehow help to pay off her mortgage." Those kinds of requests were challenging on two levels. First, taking time to consider each one would take his mind off the game that was his livelihood. Second, how many of these requests were sincere? How would one even know?

* * * *

Right from the start of his career Winfield displayed a strong generous spirit. I believe I read somewhere that he was motivated in this way as a Christian. According to the Scriptures we're to share our blessings, not horde them. Winfield's philanthropic endeavors influenced other MLB players to do likewise. Derek Jeter credits Winfield as the inspiration for his own Turn 2 Foundation. 

* * * *

2 MORE ANECDOTES
Winfield and Yankees owner George Steinbrenner were perpetually at odds. At one point the New York Daily News asked why he had such a problem with The Boss. To which Winfield replied, "I have no problem with Bruce Springsteen."

When Winfield hit his 400th home run, after 10 days struggling to accomplish the feat, he quipped, "Three-ninety-nine sounds like something you'd purchase at a discount store Four hundred sounds much better."

Much of the information here comes from the Dave Winfield Wikipedia page. Any errors here are from my semi-reliable and sometimes faulty memory.

From the Writer's Desk: A Raymond Chandler Anecdote

I once told a fellow writer the story of Raymond Chandler being interviewed at home by an eager young man who blurted, "And how do you feel about Hollywood destroying your novels?" Chandler pointed to a nearby shelf stacked with hardcopy copies of his books, and said, "Nope, they're still there."



*Source: Afterword in the illustrated version of Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?