Office Hours
“Come in,” he commanded in a heavy German accent, “Have a seat.” I entered and sat down in the chair in front of his sprawling desk. I tried to act casual but inside I felt a sense of awe thinking, ‘This is the first time I’ve ever had a one on one conversation with him.’
Somehow I got up the nerve to see him during his ‘office hours,’ time set aside for students to get extra help. I must have been desperate because, when you need ‘office hours’ help, you’re in deep academic trouble. Generally, my experience with ‘office hours’ at Ohio State goes something like this, “Maybe you need to drop out of engineering and take an easier major.” I remember a girl in my engineering dynamics class. She transferred from Cornell University and complained, “Ohio State is much more difficult. Could see my professors at Cornell any time, but not here, got to go during office hours, and there’s a huge line. And, when I do see the professor, instead of helping me, he says, ‘Have you thought about changing your major, engineering may be too difficult.’ The school of engineering is so crowded they don’t care if you drop out. Wasn’t like that at Cornell, much more personal and caring and nowhere near as crowded.”
I think this gal summed up the Ohio State engineering experience perfectly. Essentially, it’s this … ‘If you can’t cut it, get out. We ain’t here to coddle you, to baby you, to spoon feed you.’
Although his accent mimicked Arnold Schwarzenegger, that’s where the similarities ended. Professor Edse had a remarkable build, the exact opposite of ‘Arnold.’ The word that comes to mind is, skinny; turn him sideways and he disappears. His seventy three year old frame looked ready to collapse on itself at any moment.
I flew over in 1945 …
I knew some of his background from stories he told in class, “I flew over in 1945 on the same plane as Warner Von Braun.” Warner Von Braun is essentially the architect of the US space program. We’d joke about Dr. Edse’s resume, ‘Wonder what he puts down for the years 1939 to 1945 – One of Hitler scientists?’ We’d never say it within Dr. Edse’s ear shot, because we had enough sense to understand the hurt it would cause. But we couldn’t resist joking about it because it’s amazing theatre - we’re being taught the secrets of rocket propulsion by one of Hitler’s scientists. And, we also had enough sense to know, they were all Hitler’s scientists, no choice. During Hitler’s time as the Fuhrer, you either complied or you died. Simple system. You don’t argue with Hitler … and live to talk about it.
To back up my ‘Hitler ruled and the people drooled’ claim, I’ll relay another first hand story. While living in Woomera South Australia in the mid nineteen nineties, I had a discussion with a old man standing in the next door neighbor’s driveway. He told me, “I’m visiting from Holland, staying with my son and his wife, nice to see them and the grandkids.” Not sure how we got onto the topic but he said, “I remember the war. I was just a kid but the memories are as fresh as if it happened yesterday.” I asked, “What was it like?” He went into a long discussion of many aspects of what it was like to live under Hitler during World War Two, but the one thing that sticks in my mind is when he told me, “When Hitler came on the radio we all had to stand and salute. If you didn’t you’d be reported and then disappear.” Bottom line, you complied or you died. In Hitler’s world there’s no room for discussion, discord and/or dissent.
So, Dr. Edse’s situation was no different than anyone else living under Hitler’s rule. Simple, straight forward, self-explanatory - you must comply or … you die. No exceptions.
Any Scientists want to come to America?
I remember one class when Dr. Edse stopped writing complicated rocket equations on the board and told us a highly charged story about how he came to America, “A jeep drove up and down the street with some American soldier honking the horn, yelling, ‘Any scientists want to come to America?’ I said to my wife, ‘Grab your coat, we’re going.’ We ran out onto the street and jumped into the jeep. Our house was in the British sector, so technically, we belonged to the British, but the Americans were ‘poaching’ as many scientists as they could. And, we wanted to go to America, not Britain, and definitely not Russia. So, when the American jeep appeared it was a miracle, our prayers answered. We left everything, no hesitation, the only thing that mattered was getting on that jeep.”
Dr. Edse continued his story, “When we got to America, they put us in a building outside Wright-Patterson Air Force Base. Supposed to be ‘confinement’ but I tell you it was nice; better than our house back in Germany. On weekends, they’d load us up on a bus and take us downtown Dayton for shopping, tell us to buy whatever clothes and supplies we need, we didn’t pay a cent. They treated us like VIPs. I remember thinking, best decision I ever made in my life, leaving everything behind and jumping in that American jeep!”
What can I do for you?
Now I was in his office. Just me and him. I felt anxious about being in the presence of such a giant in the aerospace engineering world.
Dr. Edse got the conversation going, “What can I do for you?”
I put on my best ‘respectful’ voice and asked, “Dr. Edse, I’m having a hard time setting up the computer program to calculate adiabatic combustion temperatures. I’m stuck on the inner loop, I don’t know what values to use for Xo2 and Xn2 in equations 11 and 12.”
Dr. Edse isn’t into ‘time wasters’ and he let me know it, “Did you read the chapter on how to calculate the adiabatic combustion temp?”
“Yes.”
“Did you read all the way to the end?” He didn’t wait for me to answer and continued, “Get out the book and open up to the chapter.”
I reached into my book bag and grabbed the three ring binder containing the over four hundred fifty page document titled, AAE 505, First Draft Manuscript on THERMODYNAMICS by R. Edse, Autumn Quarter 1985. I opened to page 380 and the chapter titled “Calculation of Adiabatic Combustion Temperatures.”
Dr. Rudolph Edse said, “Got it?”
I nodded.
“OK, go to the last step in the procedure, I think it’s 38, then read the next paragraph.”
I turned my head down to the binder and began flipping pages until I got to the last step in the procedure. Sure enough, last step numbered 38. I read the paragraph below and it said, ‘The updating coeficients Xt, Xp, Xo2, and Xn2 must be selected by trial and error. Start with: Xt=0.1; Xp=0.1; Xo2=0.6; Xn2=1.0.’
I looked up from the book and Dr. Edse said, “You see it? The last paragraph tells you what starting values to use.”
Feeling ashamed, I answered, “Yes, I see it. I stopped reading at step 38.” Step 38 is the clean up step where you print out the answers. I figured it’s the end, but I figured wrong.
“Any other questions?” Dr. Edse asked.
This is my chance to ask him …
I thought for a moment and worked out I had a special opportunity. I noticed I had no competition for Dr. Edse’s ‘office time.’ No line at the door, only me. Now in my junior year, I suppose everyone figured out, office hours are only for flunkies. And by the junior year in aerospace engineering all the flunkies have flunked out or changed majors. Therefore, office hours are no longer crowded. I figured, ‘This is my chance to ask him about his time in Germany during the war. Not sure if I should ask, but if I’m going to, now’s the time.’
Following my internal debate, I made my decision. I mustered the courage and asked, “Dr. Edse, you told us about jumping in the jeep with the American soldier yelling out ‘Who wants to come to America?’ And about coming over in 1945 on the same plane as Warner Von Braun. I’m taking a World War Two class right now, taught by a visiting German professor so I very interested to hear any first hand stories, like the ones you have.”
Dr. Edse listened then sat back in his chair and said, “What do you want to know?”
I don’t know what compelled me to ask this hairbrained question, but I blurted out, “How about the gestapo? Did you ever have to deal with the gestapo?”
Then it became my turn to sit back in my chair and listen as he responded, “Oh yeah. I remember them coming to our front door, knocking ferociously. I opened the door and one of the officers said, ‘Come with me.’ I knew what that meant. You go with them and that’s the last time anyone sees you. I told him, ‘I’m not going anywhere, wait here.’ I ran upstairs, grabbed my papers and then ran back downstairs and showed them to the officer in charge, ‘See! Read it. I’m not going anywhere. These are my papers, you’re not taking me anywhere.’ The lead gestapo man said, ‘All right,’ looked at his men, ‘Let’s go.’ I scowled at him, ‘Dern Tootin, get out!’ I boiled over thinking these guys almost got away with arresting me and my family. If I didn’t have those papers to prove who I was, I wouldn’t be here right now.”
I pushed back in my chair as I absorbed his story. I found his ‘Dern Tootin’ expression a bit funny. I figured he’d been in Ohio long enough to absorb the local lingo into his everyday speech. But, I found the rest of his story harrowing. If you couldn’t cough up papers in Hitler’s Germany, it’s curtains for you.
I left Dr. Edse’s office. I’m glad I worked up the courage to visit him. It cost me a bit of embarrassment, asking a ‘dumb’ technical question, a question easily answered if I just kept reading one more paragraph in his three ring binder manuscript. But, I gained the ‘gestapo’ story. A real life harrowing story from a man who was on the ground in Nazi Germany during World War Two.
Backstory: This is another story I wrote for my last book, ‘The Dayton Dilemma: When doing the right thing, isn’t the right thing.’ It didn’t make the cut, I had too much material and I couldn’t find an appropriate way to incorporate it. Hence, it’s now the second article in my substack writing journey!
Rudolph Edse was my grandfather.