John Ley and I borrowed a canoe from Fritz to run down the Niobrera in the early 1980's. Fritz's island near the whirlpool on the river was named after Fritz. Fritz kept chickens in an old school bus on his property, and kept us well fed.
He told us a story of his time in France during WWI. He said in the spring thaw the trenches near the river they were next to flooded because there were so many bodies in it they clogged it up. So they and the Germans called a truce so they could drag the bodies out and give them a burial, and get the area to drain. I don't remember what the name of the river was, but I do recall that he said it wasn't like a regular river, the bottom was tiled. He was upset as he told of his time in the army, it was clear he saw some horrible things.
He took John and I into Valentin NE for supper in his old pickup truck, and his eyesight wasn't the greatest, and the road wasn't the safest, and I think he may have been trying to scare us a little, but we were happy to get back to his cabin in one piece. I remember we bought him a new pair of overalls and he was pleased.
Fritz was kind of short, he had a long white beard, a beat up old cowboy hat, and he took pride in his reputation as a grumpy old man, but he was a kind person to me and my friend John. When we left, he gave me a picture of himself sitting on the ground in front of a huge bull buffalo, on the back of the photo he signed " From Buffalo Fritz, the meanest man on the river".
He told us a story of his time in France during WWI. He said in the spring thaw the trenches near the river they were next to flooded because there were so many bodies in it they clogged it up. So they and the Germans called a truce so they could drag the bodies out and give them a burial, and get the area to drain. I don't remember what the name of the river was, but I do recall that he said it wasn't like a regular river, the bottom was tiled. He was upset as he told of his time in the army, it was clear he saw some horrible things.
He took John and I into Valentin NE for supper in his old pickup truck, and his eyesight wasn't the greatest, and the road wasn't the safest, and I think he may have been trying to scare us a little, but we were happy to get back to his cabin in one piece. I remember we bought him a new pair of overalls and he was pleased.
Fritz was kind of short, he had a long white beard, a beat up old cowboy hat, and he took pride in his reputation as a grumpy old man, but he was a kind person to me and my friend John. When we left, he gave me a picture of himself sitting on the ground in front of a huge bull buffalo, on the back of the photo he signed " From Buffalo Fritz, the meanest man on the river".
