The City of Light Shines

This is the last couple of entries in the diary:

June 1 – Bud & I left about 11:00. Went to Paris. Rode with Sergeant Ed Acruggs. Got back to camp at 6:00 A.M.

June 2^nd – Got paid. I’d off at this lunch about a pass

(That’s where it ends – so many questions.)

My father lived at Camp Lucky Strike until June 14, 1945. He and his fellow soldiers hitchhiked to Paris twice, which is about 190 kilometers (or 121 miles) from the camp near Saint Valery en Caux. I always thought this photograph of my father and his friends (l. to r. 2nd Lt. Ralph E. Warren; my father; Capt. Meech Taksequah; 2nd Lt. William E. Thacker; and 2nd Lt. Kellar M. Anderson), taken somewhere in the Latin Quarter spoke to the excitement and energy that must have pervaded the city. Paris had been liberated on August 25, 1944, after being ruled for more than four years by Nazi Germany. Even though the liberation of Paris had been over nine months prior to my father’s visits, it was probably a time of high emotion, chaos and recovery from the war.

The liberation began when the  French Resistance staged an uprising against the German garrison upon the approach of the U.S. Third Army, led by General George Patton. On the night of August 24, Gen. Philippe Leclerc's Second French Armored Division fought its way into Paris and seized the Hôtel de Ville shortly before midnight. The next morning, the bulk of the Second Armored Division and Fourth U.S. Infantry Division entered the city. Dietrich von Choltitz, German commander and the military governor of Paris, surrendered to the French at the Hôtel Meurice, the newly established French headquarters, while General Charles de Gaulle arrived to assume control of the city as head of the Provisional Government of the French Republic.

My mother’s first letter from my father after the war in Europe was over was mailed from Paris. I wish I had that letter today. My father never said much about what they did in Paris, but he left a few photos and postcards, some cheese wrappers, some francs, and night club tickets for me to piece together his adventures there. He did say rode the Metro to get around the city. He left a Red Cross Metro map with a map of the city. I imagine that it was well used.

When I went to Paris in 1968 as a recent college graduate, I did not realize that my father had been there after the war. I remember not having much spending money and thinking the people weren’t very friendly. I had asked my father what he wanted me to bring him from Europe, and he said a good bottle of cognac. I went to a store in Paris and managed in broken French to purchase a bottle of Courvoisier. Little did I know that it was the cognac of Napoleon. When my father passed away in 2005, I found the glass bottle in a cupboard mostly empty. It now resides in my yard on the bottle tree.

I’ve been back to Paris twice since 1968, and it continues to be a living history book and an exciting work of art. I could visit and explore its streets again and again. I like to imagine how much fun my father had back in 1945. This last trip I traveled from Paris to Omaha Beach. It provided me with an insightful appreciation of D-Day, June 6, 1944, which played a critical part in winning the war in Europe and a small role in freeing my father from the German prison camp. Here is a cemetery on ground that the French people gave in perpetuity to the Americans to bury the dead. On this trip, I sensed that the people of France are eternally grateful to the Allies; they certainly seemed a lot friendlier.

Flight to Freedom

More of Dick’s diary:

May 14 – Got up pretty early. Boarded B-17 at 11, flew over Mundesley and the Ruhr Valley, what gutted area. Landed North of Lyon (France). Went by truck to east of Reims. Got chowed up and typhus shot. Chicken, ice tea, white bread, butter, corn & snap beans. Got going at 10:30. Rode truck into town, train pulled out about 1:00. Weighed Tonight – 73 Kilos.

May 15 – Slow train 06:00. Stopped at Chaulnes for breakfast, milk, beans, diced carrots, tuna, coffee and sliced peaches. (May 15 is the birthday of my son Matthew Harvey and his son Wells.) Lunch – boned turkey, white bread, coffee, orange marmalade and peach. Stopped train at Serqueux (?), saw close up of first American girl WAC – got to St. Valery about 6:30 or 7, sweated out a shower & delousing till after 12. In a large transit camp (Camp Lucky Strike).

(Note: The U.S. Army set up a series of what they called “The Cigarette Camps,” named thus so the Germans wouldn’t know where they were located. Camp Lucky Strike was situated at Saint Valery-en-Caux, France, on the northern French coast just west of Le Harve, between Fecamp and Dieppe, on the site of a former World War II German airstrip. Originally a transit camp for deployed soldiers during the war, it became a collection area for POWs when the war ended. Twelve thousand tents housed more than 100,000 soldiers. The military headquarters were located in the Castle of Janville near the camp. )

“Still Waiting”

May 16 – We sunbathed and laid around all day. What chow lives. Ran into Chuck (Charles Doerring who was “The Miss Zeke’s” gunner) & Eide (Chester Eide, who was “The Miss Zeke’s” ball turret gunner) tonight at Red X recreation hall.

May 17 – Just another day. Mailed two letters. Thought we were moving over “B” area. Saw Phil (Phillip Crum, who was “The Miss Zeke’s” co-pilot. All three crew members are shown here with my father.)

May 18 – Sick all day. Have the GI’s. Nothing to do anyhow. (My father said that someone must have not washed the cooking pots very well. This was the first time he had that sickness in all his time in Europe)

May 19 – Gordon & I went over to D area, picked up some GI shoes – This afternoon walked over to the beach, small deserted French village, saw some of the Atlantic wall. Went to bed after a 5 PM chow.

May 20 – Rained like H. Got rain coat & German haircut. Tonight Phil & I went over to see Doerring & Eide – saw Duney Bowers, P38 Pilot shot down in Jan.

May 21 – Still lying around. Went over to Doerring, Eide & Duney again, slept all afternoon, saw John T. Wilson

May 22 – Rainy again. Went to personnel speech this afternoon by Lt. Col. Waldrop Smith; General Eisenhower spoke to us also. He was quite a surprise. Tonight went over to “D” area, saw an enlisted man from Lambert’s crew, Stober had a lot of dope on the sqdn. Went down June 13.

(I found this clipping from the newspaper Stars and Stripes –

Ike Pledges Freed PWs He’ll Get ‘Em Home---and Soon, Too

By Charles F. Kiley, Stars and Stripes Staff Writer

ST. VALERY, France, May 23 – Gen. Eisenhower yesterday told more than 40,000 repatriated American prisoners of war that he was personally doing everything to get them home as soon as possible. The Supreme Commander, speaking over a public-address system from atop a truck said he had issued orders for American-bound ships carrying liberated PWs to be loaded to capacity event to the extent of asking men to share individual bed and to sleep in shifts in order to fulfill their wishes of getting home soon “even if we have to swim.” The repatriates captured from two months to two years ago, have been here awaiting shipment home. Some have been here only a few days, others three weeks. Gen. Eisenhower spoke personally with more than 100 men during his visit and joined one group for lunch. He reminded the men of the war still waged against Japan. “There is a great deal of activity now in progress to take care of the war in Japan,” he said, “and if we can supply the shipping for you immediately it is only because we much also think of your fellow soldiers fighting in the Pacific. Speaking for everyone in America, I was to express our gratitude to you all in helping defeat Germany. You men carried the ball for us and we will not forget it.”)

May 23 – Just another day of laying around – all but four of the fellows went

May 24 – Went over to see Mitch, Doe and the boys – They have their clothes, looks like we will be here a while

May 25 – Still waiting. Went over to see Mitch, Doe & the boys, Went to a movie.

May 26 – Got our clothes today, sewed on clothes, wrote Anita

May 27 – This afternoon, Bud, Monk & I went into Cany (Cany-Barville), traded cigs for liquor, went to bed pretty early

May 28 – Fooled around all afternoon. Sellers, Monk & I went into St. Valery. Got back about 10:20

May 29 – Sellers, Monk & I went to Dieppe, nice town, but couldn’t say long as M.P. ran us out. Tonight Bud, Monk & I went to Cany (Cany-Barville). Got back about 10, pretty tired

May 30 – Laid around, got GI’s again. Moved to “D” area.

May 31 – Got physical and processed. Heard Alec Templeton (Welsh composer, pianist and satirist who had a radio show in the 1940s) tonight. Was he good. Weight 153 – shoes & pants

My father traded some cigarettes with a German guard for a camera. He took most of these photos and many others with that camera. I'm so grateful to have these photographs like this one of some poppies on the side of a French country road. Only a couple more entries of this diary to go.

What Happened at the End: What a Ruckus!

Zemke said, “The matter of self defense became an increasing concern with the prospect of the Third Reich’s demise and fears as to what would be the fate of the Allied POWs. Rumors were rife, but we could do little more than speculate as to what the Nazi beasts would do in its last throes.”

To prepare, the prisoners begin expanding the training of the commando-type force as well as those who would become military police. Zemke wanted to take over the camp peacefully and to this end, he felt they should begin by letting the Luftwaffe administration know how they would be treated in the event of the Allies taking control. He begin having regulations posted that detailed how Allied and enemy personnel would conform when the camp was transferred. It stated plainly that there would be no reprisals against the enemy. Von Warmstedt fortunately chose to ignore these postings. In the early days of April, the changing attitude of the Luftwaffe personnel was evident. Zemke even began drawing salutes from German guards. As the first signs of spring appeared, post-roll call shouts of “Come on Joe (Russians)" and “Come on Ike” became a regular feature and ignored by the guards. Athletics were encouraged to get the men in shape; they had to be prepared for the worst.

Then von Warnstedt suddenly informed Zemke that all German personnel and prisoners had to evacuate Stalag Luft I within 24 hours. Zemke, conferring with his staff, felt that his men could not march the proposed 150 miles and should sit tight so he expressed his refusal to von Warnstedt who actually did nothing. 

On the morning of April 30, Zemke was asked to report to von Warnstedt’s office. Warnstedt asked him to walk outside the camp area and said, “The war is over for us.”  He asked that the “Provisional Wing X take over Stalag Luft I and permit all German personnel to leave without bloodshed.” They wanted to travel West to keep away from the Russians. Zemke replied yes, provided they all left together at midnight that night. They shook hands on the deal. Zemke and his staff took care that the word did not get out to keep the whole camp from going wild at the prospect of freedom. At 11:50 p.m. (or 23:50), the Allied officers waited at the main gate as the Germans assembled, and with a formal “Auf Wiederschen” and a military salute, the motley group disappeared into the night. (This would be last anyone saw of the guard, Heinrich Haslob, Grete Koch’s father.) (Shown below is Zemke with Russian officers.)

Here's a smuggled "Happy Anniversary" note on April 2, 1945, from Phil "Stinky" Crum, my father's co-pilot, about the anticipated end of the war. He says, "I don't expect much, but I hope for plenty." There were plenty of good things to come for the prisoners. 

The Diary

I was surprised to find a small diary in which my father had written about the end of the war. The diary, furnished by the YMCA War Prisoners Aid, looks like the blue book we used in college. The end must have been such an astounding event after 13 months of captivity that he wanted to record every detail.

April 29 –Night we could hear the “Jerry” (the Germans) moving out, plenty of activity during the day.

April 30 – Jerry started blowing up Flak School. We dug some slit trenches, mostly with Klim (milk spelled backwards) cans. Jerry pulled out tonight. Americans manned the tower at 01:10

May 1 – As a field force member at 12:00, left barracks and moved to Jerry barrack. Went on guard at 8:45 on road at east side of Flak School. Was on guard 7 plus hours. Took bayonet and rifle off Polish boy.

May 2 - Russians came in this morning. Went over to Flak School, picked up bunch of souvenirs. Have had 4 RedX parcels issued, eating like rascals.

May 3 – Sick last night & most of today. Russians seem to be running things. Krieges going wild – lots of them taking off (Zemke said that as the Allied prisoners were transported from Barth in mid-May, 600-700 prisoners remained unaccounted for) – lots of discontent

Friday, May 4 – Pulled guard duty from 8 PM till 12. Milked cow – fine fresh milk

(When the Russians arrived, Zemke began working with Colonel T. D. Zhovanik, the regimental commander of the 65^th Soviet Army. One time he requested help in getting beef for the camp.  Zhovanik’s men promptly rounded up 21 beef cattle and 21 milk cows from local farms. Zemke reported, “it was like a western cattle drive when these came rushing through the main gate past ranks of yelping ex-kriegies.”)

Saturday, May 5 – Went over to airport this afternoon – pretty much a mess – pulled guard from 8 PM till 12. Had my first milk today. Fine big batch of beans

Sunday, May 6 – Went out on scrounging party at 2. Saw some more of Flak School. Picked up radio, saw concentration camp at airport. Went on guard for a while. Traded for a pair of boots.

May 7 – went on guard at 5:30 stayed till 8 – went to Russian movie at 11 AM – got haircut – 3:15 - went to Russian GI entertainment show, exceedingly good. Had steak for lunch. Germany surrendered today at 02:41

May 8 – Pulled guard from 8 AM til 11. Went to Flak School for chairs, tables & such, fixing a platoon mess hall – had supper in press hall – hamburgers, beans and French fries – good.

(May 8 was named VE Day, Victory in Europe,  and in 1950, my sister’s birthday.)

May 9 – War was officially over at 00:01 this morning.

May 9  – Went over to Flak School, scrounging pictures, etc. for mess hall. This afternoon went into Barth, walked around, drank coffee with some Jerry civilians tonight. Guard duty 11 PM till 2 AM

May 10 – Showered, shaved washed with the helpers with the mess hall. Cook French fry.

May 11 – Went to Flak School, put up lights in Mess Hall, get lens from large camera

May 12 – Got packed this morning. First Kriegies left today. The sick and the English, over 900 of them. We were on patrol duty in town. Heard rest of us are supposed to go tomorrow.

May 13 – Got up late, spent from 11:30 til 9:15 in Barth. Gordon & I traded for some stuff. About 6,000 of the fellows were moved out. Camp is quite a place. Some of the fellows have Jerry crazy out here; some out drunk, what a ruckus!

Note: Red McCrocklin said that he and my father often wandered many of the old city streets of Barth after the liberation. They “fraternized” with the Russians (see below), but didn’t like them. They were “Allies,” but not friends.

More of my father’s diary to come.

  

A Perspective from High

 

Many people wrote books about their experiences in Stalag Luft I (as you can see in this display in the Barth Museum). Colonel Hubert Zemke, in his book, “Zemke’s Stalag, The Final Days of World War II,” painted a realistic perspective of what the camp was like, especially in the final months.

Zemke’s journey to Stalag Luft I began on October 30, 1944, when, trying to escape the turbulence of storm, his P-51 broke up, and he parachuted somewhere southeast of Hanover, Germany. He was captured by the Germans, and when he arrived at Stalag Luft I on a bitter cold December day, he learned that he was the Senior Allied Officer among the prisoners. From his first day, “it was apparent that food was the main topic of conversation . . . there wasn’t anywhere near enough to satisfy the smallest of POW appetites.” 

He describes the camp in detail. It was designated an officers-only camp. There were four compounds holding multiple barracks: West, North 1, North 2, and North 3. My father was in the West compound, which was originally called the South compound. The Germans housed British and American Jewish prisoners separately in North 1 (See this note from Seymour “See-Mor” Stutzel, the navigator on their plane, smuggled to my father, who somehow acquired the nickname, “Hockey Bockey.” (You’ll hear more about Palmer Lerum in the future.)

The layout of the camp was a reverse L-shape on a low-lying Baltic peninsula. All barracks were built of rough-cut lumber with a central corridor and small dormitory rooms on either side. A space of about two feet under each made it easy for the Germans to search for tunnels, but also caused the barracks to be much colder from the air underneath. Bunks stacked two or three high with mattresses filled with wood shavings provided sleep accommodations. Each barrack cooked its own food on small stoves.

Zemke saw that a lack of food and warmth had greatly dampened the prisoners’ morale. Food provided by the Germans included potatoes, turnips, beets cabbage, barley soup and black bread with an occasional small piece of horsemeat. Fortunately, the Red Cross parcels supplemented this. The Germans also provided no clothing so few prisoners had adequate clothing to endure the harsh weather. (We were in Barth in early October; the wind that swept over the peninsular was bitter.)

  

Prior to Zemke’s arrival, the Allied prisoners had been organized into the Provisional Wing X with each compound as a group, and each barracks as a squadron as a way to bring strength into their dealing with the captors. In the winter of 1945, as the Germans saw they might lose the war, the attitude toward the prisoners hardened. The camp Kommandant, Oberst (Colonel) Scherer, an ardent Nazi, was suddenly transferred and Oberst von Warnstedt took his place, and at the same time, other shake-ups took place in the staff. Deliveries of food from the Germans started to arrive late causing a reduction in the food supplies. They also limited the amount of food a prisoner could save from his Red Cross parcel and held supplies back. Zemke said, “These inflictions, coming one after another, showed clearly that the new regime was deliberately tuning the screw on our containment.”  To make matters worse, new prisoners arrived each week.

The main source of outside war information for the prisoners came from the BBC over secret radios; copied in longhand, typed up on small pieces of paper, and named “POW-WOW;” passed around the compounds in the false bottom of a tin of dried milk; read to the prisoners; and then quickly burned.  

Zemke could speak German, which allowed him to converse with von Warnstedt, whom he sensed was not a hard-core Nazi and  “a little disenchanted with the war” as well as were other members of his staff. March came and winter still held its grip on the camp. Red Cross parcels dispatched from Switzerland disappeared, and there was no improvement in German rations. Toward the end of the month, some men were so weak they couldn’t stand in the morning.

Since the Red Cross parcels arrived to one of the nearby ports, in late March, Zemke talked von Warnstedt into letting prisoners with German guards drive trucks to pick up the parcels at Lubeck. The Germans benefited because this relieved their own marginal resources. Their more reasoned approach was due to the Allies launching an offensive and entering Germany -- that and the knowledge that the Swiss Protecting Power representative was scheduled to visit Stalag Luft I on April 10. Zemke did well in establishing a reasonable relationship with his Germans captors, which proved extremely productive as the war came to a close.     

Uncovering the Nazis

After sticking our toes in the Baltic Sea, we returned to the site of Stalag Luft 1 to have time to record it in our minds. Taking advantage of the interesting food in a Barth grocery store, we had a celebration picnic on the site. It was after all an true miracle that our father survived his stay at Stalag Luft 1.

The three triangles of trees and the continuous cooing of the cranes provided a wonderful setting. It was a joyous occasion that we were able to come to Germany. We wished all of our family could have been there with us.

After lunch, we walked around the area where our father’s South Compound barrack was located. Trudging through the tall grasses, we found the remnants of bricks where a building might have been. However, the Germans constructed the barracks out of wood so they could survey underneath to prevent tunneling and escapes. There was nothing left of the barracks.

We drove a ways north of there and found some old concrete foundations. Our imaginations went wild as we stopped and explored the area: Nazi buildings aptly covered with vines and moss. And then we drove south of the South Compound and found more old foundations. We surmised that this was the location of the infamous Flak School. 

We had found this information on the kiosk at the site:

“Geneva Convention: The construction of a prisoner-of-war camp in the immediate area of military property, like the ‘Flakschool’ (anti-aircraft-gunnery-training-school) in Barth, is a violations of the Geneva Agreement of Prisoners of War from 1929. Article 9 states, “A prisoner of war may never be brought to an area, where he would be exposed to the first of the combat area or be used through his presence there, to protect certain points or areas from bombardment/shooting. The County Council Barth in Vorpommem (West Pomerania) was the location of two garrisons, aerodrome and anti-aircraft school, and several important armaments factories. Stalag Luft 1 was regularly controlled by representatives of the Swiss Protecting Power. The International Red Cross and the YMCA did send help packages.”

You’ll read more in my father’s diary of his exploration of this area as the war was over. We were glad that these buildings were left in ruins as was the Nazi effort. We returned to our hotel with pockets full of bricks, rocks and remnants of bomb debris to take home as reminders.

All the time we were exploring the site of Stalag Luft 1, we could see the church tower. Here is a quote from Candy Kyler Brown in her book, “What I Never Told You,” about her father’s (John Kyler) stay at Stalag Luft 1:

“The most striking view in Barth, to me, is the beautiful old church, the St. Marien Church . . . It was astounding to me to look at this steeple from the same area my father had. What a feeling it had to be for those men to view this house of worship from behind barbed wire – this beautiful steeple and this beautiful old church and there they were as prisoners doing the best they could to practice any sort of religion. There is just some tranquility that is felt gazing at this landmark and its appearance may have served to provide peacefulness to those captive bodies but free minds.”

Thank you, Candy. I don’t think I could have explained this better. I wonder what the Germans at the camp thought as they looked at the church tower.

The morning we left Barth, we walked down the street in front of the hotel to where the airport had been. Our father had walked this road on May 14, 1945 as part of Operation Revival (and several other times as well) to the place from where he had been flown to freedom. 

We also explored the site where the concentration camp had been. How horrible that evidently not one person had survived. The labor camp has been open from November 1943 to April 1945 and was a branch of the infamous Ravensbruck, the largest concentration camp for women, located about 50 miles north of Berlin. 

Nothing Has Been Forgotten

As we approached the site where the former Stalag Luft once held thousands of prisoners, we saw an open field just northwest of Barth. In the midst of the flat land, a grouping of trees  stood around a large rock and a kiosk. The trees were planted in a large triangle. On each corner of the triangle were smaller triangles of blue spruce representing the Americans, lime trees representing the British, and birch trees representing the Russians. The effect was one of tranquility and beauty.

The metal letters on the plaque on the large rock, which Helga had found and had transported to the site, says:

“This plaque is dedicated by the citizens of Barth and the Royal Air Force Ex-Prisoners of War Association on 28 September 1996 to commemorate all those held prisoner here at Stalag Luft 1, sited here from July 1940 to May 1945: Members of the British Commonwealth and United States of America Air Forces and their Allies from the occupied countries and the Soviet Union.

Nothing has been Forgotten”

To the south of the rock is the field where the barracks that held my father stood. Now it is just a densely growth of tall grasses and a few trees. But from pretty much anywhere we stood, you could see the steeple of St. Marien Kirch (St. Mary’s Lutheran) in Barth. My sister and I liked to think that my father could look at that tall steeple everyday and think that God was in charge. We hope that it gave him and all the prisoners encouragement.  Later that day, we visited the church and walked through the walls of the ancient city.  

Next to the rock is a kiosk with facts about Stalag Luft 1. For instance, there were 8,346 prisoners of war in Stalag Luft 1 in February 1945, a majority of which were Americans. Take a look at the photos. One thing that interested me was: “The construction of a prisoner-of-war camp in the immediate area of a military property, like the Flakschool (you’ll hear more about this in my father’s diary coming up) in Barth, is a violation of the Geneva Agreement on the Treatment of Prisoners of War from 1929.”

We enjoyed being there with Helga and Greta and her son Claus. The west side of the camp bordered a tributary of the Baltic Sea. I wonder how many prisoners thought they could steal a boat and paddle to Denmark just some 70 miles away. I’m sure the Baltic Sea had an effect of the weather. The wind was fierce, and it was cold there even in October.

As we walked around, we heard a low flapping and whispering noise. It was the return of the cranes. We watched them eating bugs from the fields that our father once looked out on.

Making Friends in Germany

Before I went to Germany – because I had read so many books on the horrors the nation had committed during World War II – I was apprehensive.  I didn’t know what I would find or how I would feel about the Germans, although I had been there in 1968 as a clueless 21-year old. What we discovered is that the Germans are people just like you and me. They are kind, generous, fun loving people. (And they like their beer – we did too.) And, as we soon learned in Berlin, they are very upfront about what the Nazis did to the world, but that is another story.

What became one of the highlights of our trip was meeting two German women: Helga Radau and Grete Haslob Koch. They came to greet us the morning of October 1, 2013 at our hotel. Helga had grown up in East Germany; Grete had lived in West Germany all her life. Both women experienced trauma in World War II. We realized Allied and German soldiers were not the only people who suffered from the war.

Helga Radau is the director of Barth museum documenting the history of the town under the Nazi regime. Barth was founded around 1255 and eventually resided in East Germany when the country was divided in 1945. It rests so far north you could paddle to the Baltic Sea from its shores. The museum, titled, “12 years out of 750, Barth, 1933-1945,” features exhibits on Stalag Luft 1(see map above). It also includes exhibits about the concentration camp in Barth (we learned that not one person survived this camp – that gives me chills) and some manufacturing facilities.

When we met Helga, you could tell how passionate she was about the museum. And for good reason. When she was four years old, the Russian army arrived in Barth on May 2, 1944. At the time, the German guards at Stalag Luft 1 had run off, and the war in Europe was about to end. Her mother, father, grandmother and great grandmother lived in the center of town. The family also housed a couple of refugees from Eastern Prussia.

Daily Russian soldiers would break into homes to steal, kill civilians and rape German women. One day all the young women in the house were hidden in the loft of the house, but not her grandmother or great grandmother. Suddenly a Pole and a Russian saw the ladder and went upstairs. The Pole took Helga and would have killed her if had not been for the arrival of a group of Yugoslavian members of the Royal Air Force who were former POWs at Stalag Luft I. They prevented her death and stayed with the family for some days. It was the first time Helga tasted chocolate. She has never forgotten these terrible times, but she is grateful to the POWs and has spent years maintaining contact with the many of the 8,345 POWs (number in February 1945) housed in Stalag Luft I. 

  

And Grete’s story is equally heart-wrenching:  “My father (Heinrich Haslob) went over to the United States in 1923. At first he worked with his two uncles in New York. They had a butcher shop in a great market hall. He married my mother (a German) in 1926, and they had their wedding dinner at the Waldorf Astoria. My sister was born in 1929. 

"He started his own business with a friend on Jamaica Avenue in Long Island. The business did very well, and they expanded the shop. Then his mother in Germany became very ill, and he sailed back to Germany to visit her. In Germany, his parents owned a general store in a small village close to Bremen. Due to her illness, she asked him to move back to Germany to take over the family store.  My father promised her he would come back. My mother wanted to stay in New York because they had a good apartment with all the things that make life easy.  In Germany there was an old house without central heating or indoor plumbing. But she followed her husband with their little daughter, and they returned to Germany in 1930. 

	“With the money my father got from the sale of the business (in the U.S.) they brought  the house in Germany up to date with central heating, indoor plumbing and so on. That same year (1930) his mother died, and just two years later his father died. So I did not know my grandparents, as I was born in 1938. In September 1939, the war began, and my father was called up to the war in 1941. When the war began, he was not able to come home very often and then only for a few days at a time, so he remained unknown to me.”  Here is Grete standing with her father, sister and mother.
Haslob returned home in March before the war ended in May (with photographs and journals, many of which are now in the Barth museum), and his family begged him not to return to the prison camp. When the war ended and the Germans ran away from the camp on April 30, 1945, he was never seen again. The family never knew what happened to him. After the war, Barth was in the Soviet-controlled portion (East Germany) and not until the wall came down in November 1989 was Grete able to travel to Barth in search of her father. She asked the local residents, but no one knew anything about him. She did learn that several unidentified people had been found dead shortly after the liberation of the camp and were buried in the town cemetery.  Grete continued to return to Barth whenever she learned of groups of  ex-POWs visiting the former campsite. During one visit she was told by an American ex-POW that her father had been shot and killed in the days after liberation by an  American POW. He told her that her father had encountered the POW in town, and words were exchanged. Her father made the remark, "I will be home before you are" and with that the POW pulled a gun and shot him. Helga said this wasn’t true. Grete still has hope that she will someday learn what happened to her father.

On a visit to the United States in the late 1990s, Grete met an Red McCrocklin, who remembered her father as a man always smiling. He respected and admired “Henry, the Butcher” as the POWs called him, even though they were on opposite sides. He had given Red a German dictionary, which enabled him to speak the language; a couple of times this saved his life. Grete (as a small child below in front of her father) was grateful to meet someone who knew her father. My father talked about “Henry, the Butcher,” as well.

These two German women were so generous to us. They were delightful and interesting. The time spent with them was overwhelming because there was so much we wanted to know. Grete had brought her son Claus with her; he had never been to Barth and wanted to see where his grandfather had been in the war. They took us to the museum. We ate lunch together, toured the site of the former prison camp and ended the day with a wonderful meal at our hotel. It was a day of mixed emotions, learning about each other’s perspectives and remembering the sacrifices for freedom all of our families had made.