Tom had been mulling over a plan on how to get to Kleindorf and look for Ursula. Since the Potsdam Conference was over, he received regular leave days and most of his colleagues used them to either visit family back home or explore Germany. Despite its dilapidated condition, the country still had beautiful places to go, especially in summer and at the coast. But Tom wasn’t interested in exploring. He needed to find Ursula.
One Friday night he sat in a bar with his American friend Mitch, who talked about his latest trip to the Alps. That’s when it hit him between the eyes. Mitch would be his ticket to Kleindorf.
“Another beer?” Tom asked and, upon the other man’s nod, gestured for the bartender to bring another round.
“Say, when are you flying into Munich again?”
Mitch glanced up, a big
