When I was six, we lived without the distraction of television—there was no TV in our apartment and no U.S. shows were being broadcast in 1962 in Mannheim, or the rest of Germany for that matter.

With only a few cherished, regular radio programs to listen to on Armed Forces Network, and as learned to read in the first grade, I soon became a "regular" at the post library.

With our "dog tags" as proof of who we were, and who was responsible for us, we could go to the post library anytime they were open and explore bookshelves that seemed to extend from floor to ceiling.

The Mannheim library was in the attic space of one of the buildings on post, and the first time I went there, I could not believe the steep stairs that led to the entrance. First you had to go into the building, up to the second floor, and then up the long, steep row of steps.

I was probably only six or seven at the time and I remember clinging to the had rail and breathing a sigh of relief once inside.

Exploring Mannheim's Library

Inside, the library had the typical musty, book smell that is the same the world over. It was strange the first time, but after a few trips it was actually a comforting smell and I never really noticed it after a few weeks went by.

It would be a while before I learned the Dewey Decimal system and how all books are cataloged, which was fine with me as I loved to pull out books and look at their covers.

Good cover art sometimes determined whether a book was checked out or left on the shelf, except when I found a few shelves of biographies of famous Americans, that just had cloth covers with bright foil stamping of the book title and the author's name. 

I read one book on Thomas Jefferson and before we left Germany I had read all the books in that section.

After I made my selections and had all the books' check out cards stamped and signed with my name, it was time to leave.

I felt a twinge of vertigo as I looked down the same steep row of steps I hand climbed up about an hour earlier. Somehow I managed my stack of books in one hand, closed the door and used my other hand on the hand rail and made it to the bottom of the steps without tripping and breaking my neck.

Biggs Airfield Library

The library at Biggs Airfield, in El Paso, Texas, in contrast to Mannheim, was on the ground floor, and no steps to speak of except maybe one or two outside the main entrance.

By this time I had two baskets mounted over the back bicycle tire, so I could drop my books into the basket or stop at the Commissary if we needed anything like milk, bread or other items.

I was now 10, and I had mastered the Dewey Decimal System and had a greater appreciation of the library.

In the 1960s everyone smoked, and there were boxes with free packages of matches at the checkout desk, which many soldiers took with them as they left the library.

A few packages of matches found their way into out pockets and once in a while we would climb over the stone wall that surrounded most of the post housing areas and find tumbleweeds to burn in the desert.

There was no danger of a brush file as the bushes were well spaced out and we made sure there were no embers flying about to do more damage. After four or five fire starting excursions we grew bored and knew it would only be a matter of time before someone reported us and we would receive both a whipping with a belt and a stern lecture.

The whippings we could take, but the lectures were unbearable, mainly because we knew we couldn't talk back and there's way to win an argument with a father who is also a Drill Instructor.

Fort Knox Libraries

Fort Knox is of course, a huge, sprawling post, with assigned personnel, families, and an endless stream of recruits.

To serve everyone, Fort Knox had a large main library and several satellite libraries.

I have fond memories of Fort Knox's main library. In addition to books, newspapers, and microfiche, the magazine section had everything from American Artist, to Good Housekeeping and Popular Mechanics to Playboy.

If your timing was right, you could miss the after duty crowd and have access to all the many magazines just outside the gaze of the librarians.

While we had exposure to both male and female anatomy in sex education classes by junior high school, but we had never seen anything like the monthly Playboy centerfolds.

Of course we read the highly intellectual articles so we could hold our own at cocktail parties that would not materialize until years later.

Timing was everything and it to have a few minutes without being spotted by the librarian or a soldier looking for the same magazine, we would make sure to arrive either about chow time or a time during the day in the summer when the library was the least busy

I especially liked some of the satellite libraries at Fort Knox. Some of the satellite locations had stacks of magazines going back almost 20 years, and when doing term papers, we hated using microfiche as you had to make a lot of notes or make a "reversed" photocopy that was almost impossible to read.

Finding the magazines in their original form made writing term papers a lot easier, at least the research part.

The Freidburg, Germany Library

When we moved to Germany for the second time, in 1973, the library there was much smaller, but it had a great selection of current writers and popular novels.

We lived for about six months in Florstadt, Germany on the economy, and the library was a great source of entertainment and home away from home.

Dad would drive me and my two sisters over to the library every couple of weeks.

I loved the fact that the books were "free" and in those days I was never late returning a book as the fine would come out of my meager allowance.

Off-Post Libraries

Since the expiration of my I.D. card back in the mid-1970s, I have, of course, had access to public libraries in many cities and on several college campuses.

The library at Auburn University was probably the largest I have every had access to. And one of the most noisy libraries as it had dozens of "study groups" as there was no Starbucks in Auburn in the early 1980s.

I must admit that I prefer smaller libraries with everything on one main floor. There is something cozy and comforting about a small library. There's plenty of space to spread out all your materials, it's reasonably quiet, a nearby restroom and water fountain, and lots of distractions if you're bored with your research assignment or just browsing around.

Today I have access to several libraries in Gwinnett county Georgia, and one small library in particular reminds me of the small post libraries I grew up with—except for the patrons working away at computer work stations and the checkout system that has magnetic sensor pads for self-check out of books and audio books.

If I close my eyes, cover my ears so I don't hear people talking on their cellphones, and take a deep breath through my nose, the library is just the same as I first remember it.