Episode Transcript
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Speaker 1 (00:04):
Welcome to the ten Minute Storyteller. That's me Bill Simpson,
your host, narrator and author. We hear at the ten
Minute Storyteller endeavor to entertain you with tall tales or
rendered swiftly and with the utmost empathy. We pledge to
(00:25):
pack as much entertainment, emotion, and exploration into the human
condition as ten minutes will permit. Mini novels on steroids.
This week we meet g Otterbine. When g Otterbine moves
(00:49):
in next door, the McCloud boys are quite certain he
is either Gestapo SS or a concentration camp. Go Their
father landed on Omaha Beach on June sixth, nineteen forty four,
and over the next year he battled the Nazis and
(01:11):
helped liberate the death camps. He has no love for Germans,
and he has passed his hatred on to his boys.
How's it going to work out in this tranquil New
Jersey suburb the old German. Over the winter, old Man
(01:33):
Carpenter died alone in the house next door. The boy's
father found him dead in his armchair after the newspaper
started to collect at the end of the driveway and
in the spring, the house was sold. On the first
day of summer vacation, the boys saw a moving van
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pull into the driveway next door, and for the next
few hours they watched men haul ins and sofas and appliances,
but they didn't see any adults or any kids. That
was now about a week ago, and this morning they
spot a car pull in the driveway, a Mercedes bends sedan.
(02:16):
A man steps out and opens the trunk. He looks
to be kind of an old buzzard, not as old
as old man Carpenter, but definitely not a young guy
who maybe has some young kids, especially sons who might
fill out the boys football, baseball, and basketball teams. For
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the next few minutes, the old cuss carries boxes from
his trunk into the house. Then he stays in the
house for half an hour or so before heading back
out the driveway in his Mercedes. The boys watch all
this from their front stoop. At the end of the
drive the sedan stops and the old guy steps out.
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He messes with his mailbox, attaches something to the top
of it, and then he climbs back into his Mercedes
and drives off. The four McLoud Boys brothers ages eight
to thirteen, leave their lookout on the front porch and
walk next door to see what the new neighbor secured
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to his mailbox. It's a metal name plate. G otterbine,
fucking German, announces the oldest boy, stinking krout, says, the
second oldest Nazis in New Jersey, says the third oldest.
Wait'll we tell Dad, says the youngest. All afternoon, they
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speculate on what the G might stand for Gunther gustef
Geppart No, no, says the oldest. Ganatis. I'll bet it's Ganatis, Ganatis,
otterbine fucking heine. Another jerry hiding out in America. Probably
probably Gestapo or a scumbag concentration campguard. That's what I'll
(04:12):
bet he is. Half an hour or so before dinner,
Dad arrives home from work in his Chevrolet. Sixteen years
ago this month, Private Ernie MacLeod went ashore at Omaha
Beach with the twenty ninth Infantry, commanded by Major General
Leonard Girou. More than half the guys in his unit
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got killed or wounded that day. The units suffered more
casualties as they fought their way east across Normandy Hedgerow Country.
Moore died in hand to hand combat with the crowds
during intense fighting in the streets of Saint lox Cherbourg
and the Battle of the Bulge, where Private McLeod was
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bayoneted in the chest by a filthy, stinking hun He
recovered in time to help liberate Dachau and Bochenwald. The
sight of those emaciated Jews still alive in Ernie's dreams
to this day. The only good German McLeod has often
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told his boys is a dead German. A few days later,
g Otterbine moves into the house. No wife, no kids,
just g Otterbine. He leaves early in the morning in
his Mercedes, arrives home late, including Saturday Sunday. He works
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in his small garden, or sits on his front porch,
reading the paper and smoking a pipe. In the garden,
g Otterbine grows tomatoes and lettuce, peppers and cucumbers, and strawberries,
lovely plump red strawberries. All summer. The boys watch them
ripen mouths watering, and then one night, after it grows dark,
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they sneak over and help themselves wolf down half the crop.
Before g Otterbine snaps on the outdoor light. The boys
scatter like flees on a dog. G Atterbin marches down
his driveway, along the street, and up the mcloud's concrete sidewalk.
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He climbs the steps to the stoop and knocks on
the front door. The boys watch from the shadows. Their
father answers the door. He steps out onto the stoop.
The two men speak, but the boys, keeping their distance,
cannot hear what's said. After a minute or two, their
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father goes back inside. G Otterbine stands on the porch.
Their father returns with two cans of Budweiser beer. The
men sit and sip their beers. The boys creep closer.
In the late thirties, they hear g Atterbin say, I
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work with von Braun on the rocket program. The Nazis
are stupid, ruthless and demonic, but not so stupid that
they do not recognize the potential of a self guided missile.
We are essentially imprisoned for years nearly one hundred scientists
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and engineers. Sixteen hours a day, seven days a week.
We are encouraged to work on the V two rocket.
Liquid Propellant's my specialty, the juice to make the rocket roar.
We all worked as slowly as we could, as not
a man among us wanted the Nazis to have this technology.
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I was accused of not supporting the Reich for this.
For this, for this, they killed my wife and children,
shot them dead right in front of me, told me
I would be next if I did not produce well.
Thank God. Days later the Allies over ran Berlin and
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I was taken into custody. After a trial and a
long stretch in prison, I was permitted to emigrate here
to America to have employment with Bell Laboratories, or where
I worked to day on the Nike Ajax, the world's
first guided surface to air missile. I love America, mister
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mc cleod. I love America. I love what it stands for,
even if it is not always perfect. But please do
not be misguided. What happened in Germany could happen here.
It could happen anywhere anywhere where there are madmen, which
of course is everywhere. I want to be a good neighbor.
(09:02):
I do. I want to be a good neighbor. But please, please,
mister McLeod, do not steal my strawberries. I will happily
give some to the boys just for the asking. Thanks
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for listening to this original audio presentation of the Old
German narrated by the author. If you enjoy today's story,
please take a few seconds to rate, review, and subscribe
to this podcast, and then go to Thomas William Simpson
dot com for additional information about the author and to
(09:50):
view his extensive canon. The Ten Minute Storyteller is produced
by Andrew Pleglici and Josh Collotney and as of the
Elvis Durand Podcast Network in partnership with Iheartproductions. Until next time,
this is Bill Simpson, your ten Minute Storyteller,