The miracle of flight in china

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This shows the house where Franz Oster and his family lived in after his return from the Japanese prison camp. This picture shows him as the director of the shipyard and port commissioner of Tsingtau with his family. (almost shows him)


The first flight in Tsingtau 9. 7. 1913
After translating the above from the German language, I can add a few words of my own experience. Franz Oster was my grandmothers brother and I heard about him since early childhood. But my personal acquaintance was with his son Hans, who had to leave Tsingtau and all his belongings in June 1946 due to the takeover by the Communists. He left Tsingtau en route to Germany on the ship "Marine Robin". There he met up with the 19-year old Hermann Schlichtiger, whose parents were sending him to Germany to get his engineering degree at a German University. This young man later became my brother-in-law.

Anyway, not knowing where to turn in Germany, Hans Oster showed up at my mothers house, who was known to never turn away anybody in need. My mother was his first cousin. I was 11 years old at the time and I remember Hans did not like me for some reason. Perhaps because he had been raised as a very spoiled only child and there were five of us and I was quite lively and mischievous. I did not know at the time that he was also gay. He had never learned a profession or trade but spoke 11 languages fluently, at least that is what I understood and it was quite impressive to hear him switch back and forth.

He did like to cook and tried his hand in the kitchen from time to time. I remember the time when he tried to prepare snails, except he went to the vineyard above our house and collected a pail of snails. The slimy mess that resulted was disastrous and made me turn several shades of green. He was the only one to try them. By that time, I was out of sight.

He stayed with us for a while, I don't remember exactly how long and then went to another city to get a place by himself. Over the next 10 years or so, he would return once in a while and spent something like a vacation with us. We still didn't get along well. He was very superstitious and had a hair growing from the tip of his nose which he called his "Glueckshaar" (lucky hair) and he always groomed it very carefully with a wet forefinger. One day, his being disagreeable to me became just to much for me to take and I waited until he was taking a nap on the couch. My little scissors made quick work of the removal of his lucky nose hair. Lucky for me, he thought it had fallen out and mourned his loss. It probably grew back soon.

I heard later, that Hans Oster had opened a Chinese restaurant in Wiesbaden. In 1961, I left for the United States and learned years later, that Hans Oster had died in January of 1966 of stomach cancer.
Eva Heiland, Seattle 2005ansHHands

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