Germany - fleeting family meetings and encounters with German police

With all the myths about German efficiency, you would have thought that the German leg of our journey would have been a fairly smooth one. You would also be very much mistaken.
It all started to get excessively eventful when we came off the ferry that ships the train across from Danish Zealand to the North German coast. The delay just crept up and up and up and making our connection in Hamburg became a very questionable prospect. But we were lucky and nudged into Hamburg with just minutes to spare. I flew down the stairs to the platform, just as the connecting train drew in perfectly on time. A quick glance at the departure board told me it was actually 20 minutes late. This didn't quite compute, but hell I was just glad I was on it. We'd just settled in our seats when the excessively jolly conductor informed us that a lorry had just crashed into a railway bridge en route and that we would be delayed for at least 30 minutes. 30 minutes soon became 80 minutes and we eventually crawled into my home town at a quarter to one in the morning. It was a school night for my family, so we took a taxi to my sister's place and snook into a sleeping house to find a lovely note, much gorgeous food and a freshly made bed. I grumble about family at times, but at moments like that I love them without an ounce of reserve!
When we awoke the next morning everyone was already gone for work and school. I can only imagine how much restraint it must have cost my 9 year old nephew to see our shoes and not wake us. At least we saw my sister briefly, as she popped back from work to take us to the station for a midday train. I only see my folks a few times each year, so passing through like this, barely touching, felt strange, but was also an interlude of warmth and comfort that leaves me with a warm glow. After all, hero stories are best shared around the hearth and a good adventurer will value her welcome.

But of course we also weren't home yet, nor are we as I write. It became soon apparent that pretty much every single train on the German rail network today was delayed. So we made our way across to Cologne on whatever train happened to turn up. We had factored in plenty of time, knowing that the Cologne to Brussels train was going to be the critical one to catch.
Yes, the Cologne to Brussels train... It was 25 minutes late before it had even got to Cologne. Not a problem, we had plenty of time to collect our Eurostar tickets in Brussels and still catch the Eurostar. The platform was also packed with waiting people, but we figured we could probably handle that, although, and here lies the crux, we hadn't been able to get a seat reservation. And then the one thing I had been fearing about our reservationless tickets happened.
"Urgent announcement for the ICE14 from Cologne to Bruxelles-Midi. This train has been completely overbooked and there are no more spaces on this train for passengers without a reservation. Deutsche Bahn has put on special buses that will take you to Brussels, please make your way to the station concourse!"
"Shit, what do we do now?" I asked my husband.
"We ignore it. The bus will take at least 4 hours. We'd never get our Eurostar tickets and make the train."
He was of course absolutely right and there weren't going to be any more Eurostar seats for days, but the urge to comply was strong for me. After all we were the ones without the reservation. The fact that this was never meant to be a reservation only train seemed by the by. I got incteasingly nervous as the station staff asked to see people's reservations and people started to be sent away from the platform. When they got to us, they just asked us a cursory question, to which my husband plain lied. Luckily they didn't see my face. You can always see the anxiety written all over it. There seemed to be plenty of other people unafraid or desperate enough to cheat, as the announcement kept being repeated, but the platform just didn't empty.
Crazily at the last minute the platform was changed and hundreds of people tried to get down the steps, off the platform, up the steps on to the next platform simultaneously. Suddenly we had a small advantage: we travel light and with backpacks. We overtook the mass of people encumbered by their big suitcases and got to the door for the restaurant car just as the train stopped. Once on we were pleased, but I was still concerned. I'd seen the small group of riot police on the platform... We stood and waited and the train still didn't seem to be going anywhere.
"Can I see your reservation please, a voice came from further up the carriage. My heart sank. "That's not a reservation, could you please leave the train!"
At that point, I almost took my husband's hand to urge him to get off. This wasn't going to work out. But he stood fast and even I thought we shouldn't go down without at least trying.
As it was, we didn't have to. Three beer drinking English guys who'd lived to tell of a hair-raising taxi ride from Bukarest to Munich stood between us and the conductor. They weren't having any of it, even when he threatened to get them off with the police. He disappeared outside and I kept waiting for a bunch of riot police to enter the train. They never did. The conductor didn't come back, nor did any police. From which I can conclude several possible things: a) the German police are pathetic, b) DB didn't have the right to kick us out, c) they did have the right, but it would have caused even more unnecessary disruption. My money is on c! Whatever the reason, we stayed on the train, got our Eurostar and have just emerged on the English side of the tunnel. Only a few hours now and we'll be home!!!