Willy was nine and George had just turned eleven. The brothers spent a lot of time together. They were best friends; even though there was a veritable herd of kids in their house.
They liked to get up really early with the sun and head off to the river to catch fish. The boys lived on a farm in Saskatchewan.
Their father, Mathias had moved to Saskatchewan from Moldova in Europe and couldn’t believe his luck. Back in Moldova he had apprenticed as a blacksmith. So that he could collect the fees owed to him he had learned many languages; German, Moldovan, Austrian, Yogoslavian to name just a few. In Canada, he had built a farm and owned more land nearby. He had wonderful teams of horses and 7 sons to help him with the work plus a good wife and 4 daughters to keep everyone fed and clothed. Mathias felt very fortunate and had even taken his wife back to the ‘old country’ for a visit and told the people there that he could never spend all the money he was making in Canada.
Willy and George were up at the crack of dawn – which came very early in Saskatchewan in the summer. It would have been about 4:30 when they headed off, fishing poles in hand, to the spot at the stream where they were sure to find a fish or two.
As the boys crested the hill, they stopped and stared at a very strange sight. There, by the water, was a man. He was dressed (or more properly wrapped) in what looked like a white sheet. He was very pale. In fact, it was almost as though they could see right through him. Beside him was a white horse and a chariot. It too was white and bright. It seemed to glow.
As they watched, the man dipped his hand into the water and poured a little out onto the soil. Then he looked up at the boys. His expression never changed. He didn’t smile or frown. He simply stood and got into the chariot and signalled to the horse to go. The horse started off, but didn’t seem to touch the ground. As they watched, horse, chariot and man went up off the ground and disappeared into the air.
The boys were stunned. They turned and ran back home and explained what they saw to their mother. She scolded them for telling such lies and sent them off to their room. No one would believe what they saw.
Many years later when Willy and George were grown men with wives and children of their own, George became very ill. He had been working with chemicals and hadn’t worn the proper protective gear. He developed a brain tumor that would eventually take his life. When George was in hospital he could no longer recognize anyone except his best friend, Willy. Willy spend many hours beside his brother and best friend and they recalled stories from their childhood. “Remember the man with the chariot?” George asked at one point while he was lucid. “Yes”, said Willy; “The stream went dry that year and never ran again. That was the start of the Dirty 30’s and all of our suffering through those years.”

Willy Klein married Marguerite Dumelie