Danny relates some Local Customs.
Our route from the last stretch of autobahn across country to GK led us through a number of small country towns and villages, Fifty years ago we soon noticed differences from British practice. For a start, when they wanted to do a repair to the road surface, or dig a hole for the utilities, there was none of this business of sticking in a set of traffic lights (or a man with a red flag) and working a one-way system.
They simply closed the whole road off and set up a diversion (sometimes for miles) right round it. The villagers calmly accepted the dislocation, and I must say that the road workers generally got on with the job and finished it without undue delay.
In consequence, it was reckoned that the most often seen road sign in Germany was "Umleitung" (Diversion), but there was always plenty of the signs, one at every junction. They did not give you just one or two, and leave you to find your own way after that - as sometimes happens here at times, I'm afraid.
At home in those days, it was a common thing to find yourself head-on to a herd of cows coming in for milking, or sheep going to or coming from market (there are still some road warning signs on roads round here with a cow picture). These would, of course, block the whole road; there was nothing for it but wait patiently for the stream of animals to flow past before moving on. In the wake of a herd of cattle, the braking distance tended to increase !
There was little sheep-farming in the district of Heinsberg (which included GK), and the dairy or beef farmers were all smallholders , with no more than a dozen beasts each. They had found an answer to the problem of moving them about. A tractor would tow a long pole, and on both sides the cattle were chained by the neck to it, up to four beasts spaced down each side. The tractor was driven at slow walking pace, the animals did not seem to mind, I suppose they were used to it - and in any case they had little option. But a lane was left free for traffic.
The frequent "umleitungs" sent you into strange territory; there were some narrow-gauge steam lines snaking round the countryside, and these just crossed the roads and lanes as they pleased without any crossing control (I think there must have been warning signs on the roads). Luckily they were not TGVs, but ambled along at 15-20 mph, so it was easy to keep out of their way.
The German traffic rules for fog or poor visibility by day were the same as ours (IIRC) - it was up to the driver to decide whether to put lights on or not - but if he did it must be on dipped main beam. Two of our people were running in to GK in convoy. It was a misty morning, one was on sidelights (we have such folk among us yet). The Polizei grabbed him (Dm5 on-the-spot fine). His mate (no lights at all) sailed through unscathed.
The Volkspark run was the scene of a remarkable escape one day. One of our Controllers had come out after me. He was ex-aircrew (I don't know if war or postwar), had got badly burned (like Simon Weston) in a crash which ended his flying career. I've forgotten his name, but I remember the new export car he'd brought out. It was a P4 Rover 80 - I'd never seen such luxury - truly it was a "little Rolls-Royce". (Few of us could afford a car like that).
Anyway he was driving back to the Volkspark with his son (around 8, I think). Probably his wife was in front, for the lad was in the back with a Corporal to whom they'd given a lift. They were bowling along (not sure whether on autobahn or not). The boy started fiddling with the door catch on his side, the horrified Corporal leapt across to stop him, between the two the door flew open and the youngster fell out (the rear door hinge was at the back).
Our chap left a thousand miles' worth of rubber on the road. By good fortune, the traffic behind was well back, saw what had happened, and was able to keep well clear of the car and the boy. He must instinctively have adopted the "paratrooper's roll", spun along into the nearside verge, and wasn't far behind when they jumped out and scooped him up. He was not unconscious, but catatonic with shock and quite quiet. There were no obvious serious injuries.
They were close to Cologne, they kept going and rushed him to the Medical Centre in the Volkspark. They gave him first-aid, sedated him; an ambulance took him up to the RAF hospital at Wegberg. He was a very sore little boy for a long time, with abrasions and bruises, but miraculously no real damage had been done and he made a full recovery.
The Corporal was in an agony of remorse, of course, but it wasn't his fault, he'd acted for the best. What happened had been a pure accident.
Goodnight, chaps,
Danny42C.
Wonders will never cease !