When I was a very young child my parents rented an old German house. What made renting this house strange is that German families rarely rent out an entire house, especially to American servicemen and there families. The house is in three levels: the first floor, second floor, and the attic. The house was full of antique furniture. The service couple before us had moved out when there six month old baby died of cot death. So here we arrive. My stepfather, my mother, and me 4 years old. The people that moved in upstairs were ( not disrespect intended) very low class people. The wife's name was Cookie, there were two boys, and the father (whose name and face I can not remember).
 

One day Cookie and my mother, bored in the German countryside and still no furniture to unpack, decided to explore the attic and its treasures. In a very old dresser my mother found one drawer filled with family photographs going all the way back to the turn of the century. Her and Cookie felt amazed at the certainly important heirlooms left in the house by its owners the Hommels. In the next drawer my mother found many crucifixes, in many shapes and sizes. " They were gorgeous works of art", said my mother," They came in many sizes and different wood." The strange thing about them was that they had deaths heads at the bottom of Jesus' feet. (Deaths heads are the sign of the SS)
 

The next day Cookie and my mother began looking to make a playground in the barn for us kids to play in. They found a well like concrete hole in the middle of the barn. Inscribed in the concrete were the words, "Rommel, 1943" and a swastika. What made this strange and even more scary was that in the courtyard was inscribed that the house belonged originally to the Schmitt family. My mother never allowed us to play in that concrete well.
 

Soon after we all moved in my mother and stepfather began hearing loud noises from upstairs, as if the furniture were being moved around. My mother thought that Cookie and her husband were trying to entertain us. With the noises the crucifix's began appearing all over the house. You would open a drawer and there it would be, you open a closet door and one would be hanging there. When my mother and Cookie were going to put them back all the crucifix's would be moved to a different drawer!
 

My memory and only memory of this time is when Cookie's sons tried to scare me by taking me up in the attic and throwing dead mice on me. I heard them screaming as if someone where beating them. When they ran down the stairs, I just had to see what scared them so. I saw a little girl sitting on one of the ancient cedar chest, she was very thin with little hair and very large brown eyes, giggling. Ever since she was my imaginary friend.
 

But the winds of change came. Cookies husband was arrested for molesting me in the attic, an event that I can no longer recall. The accusations were very ugly and I am glad that I do not remember. But the German police would not let him be tried by an American system and arrested him under German Law. Cookie and her sons were moved out that day in "Fear for Life" move, for she was the one that turned him in. My parents and myself were being move two days later in "Fear of Life" move. It was those two days when my mother knew that Cookie wasn't the one moving the furniture in the attic, and wasn't telling Ghost stories to amuse us, but was telling the truth.
 

It all happened so fast that our furniture had arrived yes, but we never opened a box. When we finally got to our new home and opened the last moving box, at the very bottom of the box was one of the most beautiful of the crosses, except for the out of place deaths head. My stepfather took it and threw it away in a field two hours of a drive away.
 

What about the Hommels? They were such nice people my mother said. She didn't want to ask about the antiques and family heirlooms. She figured There was a family member that they did not want to mention. What about the Crosses? My mother found out that The Crosses were strange but the deaths head was a sign of the SS. My mother also found out that there was a fairly unknown concentration camp near by. Is it possible that the house was commandeered by an SS officer from a Jewish family? What about the Children? Of the four children living in the house in three months one died, one was raped, and two were subject to the harsh discipline of a father that seemed to change in that house. What about the giggling girl? She stayed with me I remember. Until I received a fractured skull from a wild horse. On the way to the hospital I remember she said she had to leave me. I cried more from her saying goodbye than I did the 240 stiches I received. But If the horse had kicked me an inch lower it would have broke my neck, an inch higher I would have been blind for life. Was she my good luck charm? Was she a daughter in the Schmitt family long dead? Who knows?