Baader-Meinhof….Coincidence or Conspiracy?

The first chapter of my Reminiscing Series…

The summer between 6th and 7th grade (1972) a terrorist group called The Red Army Faction (Rote Armee Fraktion or RAF) went on a terrorist bombing spree across West Germany.  The press dubbed them The Baader-Meinhof Gang after two of its main “members”, lovers Andreas Baader and Ulrike Meinhof.  I can’t really say what their main gripe was, because, well, they were crazy terrorist urban guerrillas, and to try to understand them would be a waste of time.  Let’s simplify it by saying they hated the post-Nazi German government, the U.S. involvement in the Viet Nam war, and capitalism.   What’s mainly remarkable about this group is that they lasted from the mid-60’s to the mid-80’s, with much drama, and not insignificant support at times.

I don’t want to give them any more attention than that.  I do want to tell you about my impression of that summer.  One of the bombings took place at Campbell Barracks in Heidelberg, where 2 U.S. service members were killed.  We would move to Heidelberg a few years later, but that summer we lived at Warner Barracks in Bamberg, Germany, where my father commanded the 3/35 Armor Battalion.  It was a turbulent time anyway, with soldiers being drafted and trained for the war in Viet Nam, race riots, and rampant drug use, all in our little community.  Nancy White picked a real fistfight with me on my first day as the new girl in 6th grade…my first and last physical fight with someone who was not a family member.  It was, at times, a rough place to be an adolescent.

But that summer, after the bombing in Heidelberg I believe, the alarm when out to all the military installations that this gang was now attacking U.S. Military installations.  Overnight we had armed guards parading up and down the sidewalk of the houses on “Snob Hill” (named because the highest ranking officers lived there), 24 hours a day.  As a pre-teen with 3 older sisters, we were mainly concerned with how cute the soldiers might be, and each shift change had us coyly looking out the window or “just happening” to need to cross the street to tell our friends something super important.  I can’t recall being scared.  It was mainly just exciting, which I am sure is due to my mellow mother, who always maintained her sanity in the midst of any crisis.  I seem to recall that the General’s kids had to be driven to school, but that would mean school either got out in June, or I’m not remembering it very well.  Or they had to go to summer school.  Hee Hee.  Too bad for them.

All of the mothers on the block set up a schedule to provide refreshments to the dreamy soldiers.  In our house we baked quite a bit anyway, and had a great time when our turn came around.  We made sandwiches, cookies, cakes, brownies and lemonade and put it all out on a card table on our carport.  It was quite the social occasion as I recall, when neighbors dropped by to see what we had to offer.  And “Oh my, that looks good.  Let me just have a taste.”  Or that could have just been my chubby 11 year old self.  I just remember eating really well.

I don’t recall how long the guards lasted or why they finally stopped.  It could have been a couple of days or even a month, but eventually they stopped guarding us, some of the gang was captured, life went back to normal, and Nancy White and I were civil to each other in 7th grade.

As a footnote, you may experience the Baader-Meinhof Syndrome, also known as the Baader-Meinhof Phenomenon, or Plate Of Shrimp after reading this blog.   Tell me if you do, and is it a coincidence or a conspiracy?

Footnote # 2:  If I end up in a CIA interrogation room for writing this, we will know Edward Snowden was on to something.

Have I got a story for you…

I have a friend who says nice things to me like “I love it when people first meet you.  You’re so quiet, and then when they get to know you they discover how funny you are”.  A few months ago she said “You have led such an interesting life.  I love hearing your stories of growing up”.  Me?? Interesting life?  That’s why she’s my friend, but she’s right.  Because we all come from different backgrounds, someone else’s unique experience will usually seem interesting to the person who didn’t live it.  I mean, she grew up in Colorado!!  She learned to ski at the same time she learned to walk!  She can walk into a grocery store and run into someone she went to high school with.  She gets to spend holidays with her parents without jumping on a plane.  That’s heaven to me. She recklessly rode her Ninja motorcycle all over campus in college.

I also have a friend who grew up on a farm in South Dakota.  Those stories?  Well, let’s just say Catholic girls have nothing on farm girls.  She talks about the family in her hometown who owned “the store”.  She can drive in blinding snow with nooo problem.  She knows how to plant a garden, and cook things from it.  What?  She is always ready to host a crowd, even if they are staying overnight.

My fiance B. grew up in the DC house LBJ vacated when he became Vice President.  J. Edgar Hoover lived on his street. B. was a long haired hippy who played in bands growing up, and Hoover refused to get out of his car if any long hairs were on the street.  He would sit in his limo for hours until they left because he was so paranoid.  One neighbor trained his dog to do his business on Hoover’s Astroturf lawn.

The point is, we all have a story to tell, and I have started reminiscing about some of mine.  From the Baader-Meinhof gang that caused armed guards to walk up and down the street outside our house, to date night at the Playboy Club in 1978, to ballroom dancing with cadets at West Point, I do have some stories, and welcome any of yours if you would like to guest blog.  Stay tuned….