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MANY moons ago, we lived and served the U.S. government in Augsburg, Germany. There’s a lot going on in Germany, and it gave me a lot of feelings. For starters, I would never go to Dachau. Driving past it made me vaguely nauseous.
I’m not like Sixth Sense “I-see-dead-people” ghosty, I just didn’t want to go.
One day we walked into the town square in Augsburg, and I got that oddly nauseous feeling as we were coming down the side road.
The buildings are tall and skinny, and the streets are in shadow, and you cannot see the square until you come upon it. It’s a lovely town square, the Ratshaus on one side, cafes and shops on the other.
I don’t remember what the building was directly opposite where we entered the square, but it was a four or five story salmon colored building, with windows on the square side, one after another, neat and tidy.
When we rounded the corner, all the breath left my body and I grabbed my husband’s arm and said, “Where are the police?!” I was terrified, and horrified.
He looked around for the emergency, and held me up. I could not get my legs to enter the square, and after being repeatedly assured that everything was fine, we ended up sitting at a cafe outside line-of-sight to the square.
I had seen the building burning, shattered, and people dead and dying, on fire and broken, screaming, crying, standing stock still, writhing, and the smell.
The rest of that tour, a couple years, had me peeking into the square first, then going into it, before I could look at the building at all. Much later than that, when doing the canned tour of the Rathaus with tourist-visitors, one of them asked about the building and we were told that it had been bombed in WW2, and got a small historical insight into whatever the hell it was that I saw.
None of the pictures did justice to what I experienced.
U.S. government employees serving overseas have had many odd encounters. Read more here.
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