I had the good fortune to visit Europe for the first time recently. I’ve seen much of the United States, even lived in San Francisco and New York City a few years, but I’d never been a world traveler until I went last October to see my son Seth, who was studying at Freiburg University in the Black Forest area of southern Germany.
The city of Freiburg lies near the Swiss border in a long crescent-shaped valley which gets its rounded shape from a rather high hill around which it curves. The city follows the shape of the valley. Freiburg’s downtown area, with its beautiful streets and sidewalks of cobblestone, is north of the hill. As you go west and south around the hill you find the suburban area and then at the southern end of the hill the valley goes south, gradually becoming a rather hilly agricultural area.
The University, a highly renowned school, is located in the downtown area, where all the buildings have stores on the first floor, and two or three stories of offices or apartments above. Many streets are quite narrow and often shops open onto crooked little alleyways.
No cars are allowed in the downtown area. People walk, cycle or ride the light trains, which have tracks in the middle of nearly all the main streets. The occasional police car, fire truck, ambulance or authorized delivery truck are the only motorized vehicles about. Pedestrians and bikers abound.
The morning after I arrived, I spent exploring the downtown area, while Seth was in class. I got lost more than once among the neat little quirky cobblestone alley-ways, but managed to find my way back to our designated meeting spot quite timely. We lunched and then, rather than walking his usual route home around the hill, we went over it.
When I was my son’s age, I hiked with two friends from the floor of Yosemite Valley up to Glacier Point and back down. Though this climb was perhaps about one-quarter the height of the one in Yosemite, it reminded me of that trek. The paths were nearly as steep and there were almost as many switchbacks. The weather was perfect, I enjoyed it and I felt very good, but did have to stop and rest three times on the way up and twice on the way down.
At the top of the hill we climbed the observation tower, because thick trees all around blocked the view, not that we wouldn’t have climbed it regardless. So round we went up the circular stairway to the small platform well above the treetops. There we found a superb view of the city, the valley and the hills.
We were not alone. One man who looked to be in his mid-seventies was up there. Soon we asked him to photograph us with the city in the background and he was happy to do so. Then he and my son engaged in a rather lengthy conversation in German. I don’t speak German, so Seth told me afterwards of the conversation.
I was flabbergasted to learn that he was actually ninety-two years old. As I said, he looked a healthy mid-seventyish. But not only had he made the trek up there that day, he lived in Freiburg and in the two years since the tower had been built, he’d climbed up there precisely two hundred and eleven times.
There was considerably more than this amazing revelation in his conversation with my son though. It seems that as a German soldier in World War II he was captured by U.S. soldiers in Italy. With quite a few other prisoners of war, he’d been sent to Wyoming, to work on a sugar beet farm for the duration.
Uncertain exactly what to say, my son said: “That’s too bad.” But the man laughed and said: “No that wasn’t bad. Bad would have been being captured by the Russians.” He had made it through the war with all his limbs and his good health, but almost none of those who went to Siberia were nearly so lucky.
I regret not getting a photograph of him. I’ve thought about his amazing life occasionally and told this story about him to quite a few people. Thoughts of his longevity and continuing excellent health have spurred me on while I’ve worked out swimming laps.
He obviously appreciated the treatment he received as our prisoner of war, and in the ensuing sixty-five years has apparently told his story to many people. So we most certainly fostered much good will through him and his fellow prisoners-of-war simply by treating them humanely. He and his fellow POWs have been almost literally broadcasting our praises from the highest tower – fantastic PR if inestimable value.
His story troubles me considerably though. It has given me cause to ponder how the prisoners in our current war will speak of their American captors and the treatment they received in Abu Ghraib, Guantanamo or wherever they are being held. I worry that the truths those prisoners are going to tell and put into print and movies is likely to recruit great numbers of Taliban soldiers and suicide bombers to fight against us for many, many years despite the most sincere apologies we will be making someday soon.

About this blog:

My wife and I have been opponents of this Iraq war from the start. We’ve participated in two marches nearby and one in D.C., but for a long time I’ve wished to do something more effective against this war.
When I heard the tragic story of this young Iraqi girl I was quite profoundly disturbed. I had trouble getting to sleep a couple of nights thinking about her story and I knew I had to do something. So I wrote this article and sent it to the op ed departments of three newspapers thinking that by using my writing skills to shine a light on her story I might in my own small way contribute to bringing an end to this war. Alas I got no response of any kind from those op-ed departments, so I’ve posted it as the first article on this blog.
There will be more pokes in the mind with a sharp pen. I’ve written two more articles and am currently putting another one together in my mind. My goal is to make them well thought out, informative, interesting and worthwhile. I will be posting new ones about once a week.
I’m giving you these articles, but I ask a little of your help in return. If you appreciate my blog and my efforts, please one time send a short e mail to all the people on your mailing list telling them about this blog, so I can reach out to a large enough audience to feel that my efforts are worth continuing.

Thank you, Greg Schindler

I recently saw a reporter on TV who spent the last few years in Iraq. He said he’d had life-changing experiences there and when pressed to tell of one, he recounted an episode about the kidnapping of a young girl.
It seems that the daughter of a fairly rich Iraqi man was kidnapped and held for ransom -- a rather common occurrence these days I understand. When the kidnappers called to talk about the ransom, the father demanded to talk to his daughter. She came on the line sobbing and crying, quite terrified, hardly able to speak. Her father only wanted to know from her whether she had been raped. She finally sobbed yes.
He told her to give the phone back to one of her captors and when that despot came on the line the father told him to keep his daughter, he didn’t want her back. And so they killed the daughter.
Here was a young girl sentenced to death by her father -- who apparently could have saved her quite easily -- because she’d been raped and was no longer a virgin. And we are sending our children over to Iraq to fight and die for the rights of her father – this homicidal maniac. What are we thinking?
Near the end of the Viet Nam war it is said that the tipping point for public opinion came when on the six o’clock news we all clearly saw that Viet Namese officer shoot in the head a young soldier who was handcuffed and kneeling.
Isn’t the story of this child’s death even more horrible? She was no enemy combatant; just a young innocent caught in the middle. Can’t we clearly see her handcuffed and kneeling? Can’t we clearly see that despicable abductor putting a gun to her young head and pulling the trigger? And can’t we clearly see her -- who had most certainly loved her equally despicable father and always tried to live up to his maniacal code, but sadly and helplessly got caught in-between -- see her fall, dead before she hit the dirt floor?
PEOPLE, WE ARE SENDING OUR CHILDREN TO FIGHT AND DIE FOR THE RIGHTS OF MEN SO UTTERLY MORALLY TWISTED THAT THEY VALUE THEIR DAUGHTERS’ VIRGINITY HIGHER THAN THEIR DAUGHTERS’ LIVES!! PLEASE TELL ME, WHAT ARE WE THINKING?!!!!!
Clearly there is someone in this gut-wrenching story worthy of us fighting for, but she’s dead. She may have a younger sister who is still alive, but sadly we can’t save her sister either. We should know by now that we cannot change the beliefs and codes, the traditions, values and laws of billions of people by force. What are we thinking?
Over time and by example, I believe that we are likely to save her sister’s daughter’s daughter’s daughter -- however many generations into the future -- but our futile attempts to force change only serve to strengthen the resolve and increase the numbers of opponents of change, thus pushing those changes farther into the distant future.