Jarred and jolted by the incessant images of war and camps in the Balkans, an old German soldier sent me his recollections of what life was like for one German man. Though simply written, this Prisoner-of-War experience in the hands of the enemy is haunting.
What he describes in simple words has been movingly chronicled by the Canadian writer, James Bacque, in his two controversial, best-selling books, "Other Losses" and "Of Crimes and Mercies," available in any good library or on order from better bookstores in the English-speaking world.
I have left his letter intact to give you an authentic glimpse of how the world, then and now, is perceived in the eyes of the last of what Ernst calls Germany's "Magnificent Generation":
Sorry I printed you last letter about the true History and then I lost it, but I have the print. This is all so true. I was taken PoW in Sauerland. We were surrounded and the War ended.
At first in a town they looked for Germans who could type and we were told to write discharge papers. Sure Washington ordered different.
On trucks we were driven to Remagen. There, at the Bridge, German women and girls threw flowers at us.
In the camp we dug holes with spoons to guard against the cool weather. It started to rain for days.
One Mr Cohen spoke German with Berlin accent and he had access to all compounds. Sometimes he came with a bunch of children, may be to show our pitiful state.
We got a spoonful of egg or Milkpowder a day and waited for next day. Once only we received 3 Kekse. (Crackers)
We were marched to Sinzig. There were french soldiers who had sometimes fistfights, because the French were more radical.
On the Road German civilians threw slices of Bread. We used to fight for them.
One Grandmother cried, a french soldier pointed his Machine pistol at her. A American soldiers jumped between with raised fist.
Knowlege of english enabled me to go out with work commandos. One Texas Seargent asked for 12 Men and all including the Interpreter has to be a auto Mechanic. Asking in the Truck, nobody was and everybody disappeared in the Kitchen.
The camp was guarded by French soldiers. One day I was told if one of us runs away, two will be shot. I translated and the Tex. Sgt. said then I will shoot four of them.
Again we were transfered to Andernach. I was able to go out to work for a Black Unit.
One day on our way by truck , I saw a column in our direction. The first row had a sign SS. They all looked like marching skeletons. Every two meter a french soldier with a rubber trunk. No Civilians were allowed on the street.
One German soldier from our troup jumped a train to the British Zone. The Black Seargant asked me why did he do this to me.
I told him and it is true the French soldiers sometimes shot their rifles into our camp. The Seargant had tears in his eyes and ordered the drivers of the returning Truck to play drunk etc. So the French would not count us.
We were then transported to Epinal, first stop in France. Upon arrival the soldiers checked our belongings and took things away. I had still a raw potatoe, which I swallowed in a hurry.
In the Barrack building we could walk around. One day I saw a co-worker from the Insurance co. I worked in Dresden. He was dragging himself up the stairs on the railing. Till to-day I cannot explain why we did not talk to each other. He was very weak and did not regognize me.
Then I saw two french Officers asking a very young soldier, looked like 16 if he was in the Waffen SS. The boy was surely frightened and he said No. They asked him to free his arm and he had the blood group engraved. One of the Officers hit him in the face, because he (had lied).
Our final place was LUNEVILLE. There the Seargant walked around with a whip. I did not see him using it. The rumor went around that SS soldiers had to work in the cold River and that French Veterans complained about it.
I observed when outside the six PoW's had to carry a box with a deceased PoW. Behind was another group of six because the first was too weak to go all the way. They receicved a double ration of watery soup.
I never forget the first christmas 1945. A choir sung Stille Nacht and the tears were rolling the same time. We receive a double what they called coffee.
In one large room PoWs from the U.S. were there laying on the floor, weak, but we regocnized them on their smart Khaki Uniform, working later outside on different commandos.
After 2 and a half year we were asked to sign up another year as a free labororer. What I did because I did not want to go to the Soviet Zone.
What about married Man with children kept away from their family for another several years? Washington probably intended to cut down on German bebies in this period. <end>
Thought for the Day:
"Nationalism is synonymous with fanaticism."
( Elie Wiesel )
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