Rate of Exchange

The streetcar clanked slowly along Munich's long, steep Tegernseer Landstrasse. Inside, behind the plywood which replaced the car's bomb-shattered windows, it was dark. The conductor was collecting fares. One woman fumbled in her handbag for a 50-pfennig piece, dropped it on the floor as the car shook.

The coin was worth 5-c-. But to the ordinary German, still living under strict wage and price controls, 50 pfennig is still 50 pfennig. The woman bent down, and in the darkness groped for the lost coin. She could not find it. The conductor could not find it either. Then a Polish soldier came over to help out with a match. But the match burned down before they found the coin. The soldier muttered, then fished a wad of German bills out of his pocket. He took a large, 20-mark note ($2), lit it, found the 50-pfennig piece, and with a smile handed it to the woman. The smoldering remains of his 20 marks he tossed out the door.

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