On August 3, 2014, my grandfather, Albert Lindenschmid, passed away at age 95. This biography is written in honor of him.
Born on February 14, 1919, in Ennahofen, Baden-Würtemburg, Germany, Albert grew up with two brothers and a sister, Greta. He developed an interest in flying, and eventually joined a private flying club. After WWII broke out, Albert and his brothers were drafted into the military. Albert served in the Luftwaffe, the German air force, and during this time took a correspondence course in mechanics and learned to fly sailplanes. Both his brothers eventually died in battle, and thus, per German military policy, he was allowed to avoid the front lines. Instead, he worked as a mechanic, overseeing the maintenance of several planes. He attained the rank of corporal, but turned down a promotion to sergeant since most sergeants ended up on the front lines. He eventually was captured by American forces and held in a French prison camp until after the war.
This is a German assignment from last semester (spring 2013). English translation at the bottom:
Der Mann, der Berg, der Eintagsfliege, das Kind
26. April 2013
Es war einmal ein viel beschäftigter Mann, der wenig Zeit für etwas hatte. Er dachte über das, was Zeit eigentlich war, und er wanderte durch die Landschaft um eine Antwort zu suchen. Er kam zuerst auf den Berg, und fragte ihn: “Was ist Zeit”
Well, I basically have posted all of my old material, so from now on all of my posts will be up to date. But now I want to relate to you a short story about a rather bizarre and in retrospect rather humorous incident last night. At around 1:40 last night, I suddenly started screaming for I don’t know what reason. I was only partially conscious and completely bewildered. At that same time, my brother leaped out of bed screaming. I was already imagining that the curtains in my room were filled with shadowy shapes closing in on me, and now that my brother was yelling too I was sure that “they” were coming to get us. My brother was now next to my bed screaming, and had knocked over our space heater (it has been off for weeks, so don’t worry about that). I was just laying there in bed disoriented, screaming as loud as I could. Our dad came in and asked what was wrong, and at that point we became fully conscious and had to explain that we had no idea. Apparently, what had happened was this: My brother was having a dream where he was being entangled by a plant, and felt it pinning his arm. At that moment, he heard me screaming and thought there must be something happening to me. He leaped out of bed still asleep, and only woke up after he knocked over our heater. I still have no idea what set me off, obviously there was some type of bad dream. The situation might never have happened except that both of us had a bad dream at the same time, which triggered this panic episode. In retrospect, it was quite funny, and I even thought so last night once I figured out what happened.
This was from a history assignment two years ago. Short historical fiction essay:
– Approx. 80 BCE
A noble cursed me today. I do not know his name, but he mocked my mixed ancestry. What does it matter that a distant relative was a Gaul? I’m a Roman as much as him. I thought commander Sulla proved that. Why must our family be forever cast with this stigma? The way of the world is strange.
This is an old piece I did two years ago in English Comp I:
You walk up solid concrete stairs, your footsteps echoing in the small, concrete chamber. The heavy stairs are lifeless and dominating. Sunlight pours in from the small domed skylight, mixing with the artificial light of fluorescent bulbs. You continue upward, one hand sliding along a cold, metal railing covered in chipped black paint. At the top of the stairwell, you open a heavy door made of glass and some unknown metallic material, which is covered in blackish grey paint that reveals chips of blue beneath it.
This is an old story that I wrote for one of my English assignments, and used a shorter version of in speech class. This is a true story:
9 in a Canoe
The idea had started that morning. I was an assistant counselor at a Christian camp, and it was the second week in the high school program. I am a quiet person, and fairly shy. My co-counselor and cabin leader Jon, however, was not. It was only a few days into the week, and already Jon had us doing some wild and crazy things. I guess I should have seen it coming.