Liberation

This is a tribute to my father, who was a prisoner of war in Nazi Germany from December 1944 until May 1945. I've written about his actual capture, nine-day forced march, and prison experience in previous posts on this blog. You can find the links to those posts in the right hand margin of this blog. Here's the account of his liberation as he related it to me.

May 1945
Neubrandenburg, Germany
Liberation Day
The prisoners kept wondering who was going to reach them first – the Americans or the Russians. Well, the Russians reached them first. When the Russians arrived, they shot every German guard right on the spot. Then the Russians left the prisoners there for the Americans, who were fast approaching.

When the Americans arrived, an Army Colonel walked into the infirmary where my father was. My father said the Colonel went crazy at the sight of the condition these men were kept in. He was yelling and swearing in anger over the situation. Just imagine this battle-seasoned Army officer. He had surely seen men killed and others seriously wounded. Yet when he looked inside the prison where my father spent six months, he could not believe the deplorable conditions he saw there.

My father was reduced to skin and bones, with bruises on his hips and the skin taut over his face. He only weighed 90 pounds. His hair and beard had not grown due to malnutrition. He also lost some of his hair because of the lack of proper vitamins, but it all eventually grew back.

The prisoners were so happy they made there way outside any way they could. Some men crawled; others went down the steps one at a time in the sitting position, because they couldn’t walk.

They were taken by Army ambulance to a Field Evacuation Hospital.

Field Evacuation Hospital
At the field hospital they told my father to take off his old, filthy, tattered uniform that he had worn for months. Those clothes were full of lice. Then after a shower (his first one since before being captured), he was given clean clothes to wear. After a short stay there he was flown to the 194th General Hospital in Paris, France.

194th General Hospital
Paris, France
Upon arriving at the airfield in France, my father was transferred to an Army ambulance. The driver said, “You look like you’re well enough to ride up front with me, so my father hopped in the front passenger seat. The driver said, “I’m gonna drive you right through the heart of Paris.” Then he proceeded to do just that. They saw the Eiffel tower and passed right through the Arc de Triumph (pictured above) on the way to 194th General Hospital.

At the Paris hospital he was given clean pajamas and a bathrobe to wear. Paris looked like a real modern city. He was unable to get out on pass and even if he could he was unable to walk.

He had jaundice, so he was unable to eat any food. In the hospital, they gave him all the hard candy he wanted all day long. Other patients helped him devour the candy, and the nurses just kept refilling the bowl whenever it became empty. It was wonderful to be back in good hands. He got good medical care there. The nurses at the hospital were so nice to them. As Kline puts it, “They were just great.”

May 1945
The plane my father flew home in was a Douglas C-54 (4 engine) aircraft. The ride was very choppy. He was on a stretcher in the plane as it went from France to England and then West across the Atlantic. The plane stopped at the Azores Island airport and was refueled. This trip was great, knowing they were on their way home. Their next stop was Newfoundland.

Mitchell Field, Long Island, New York. After arriving and being checked by the officials he was taken to the hospital. He stayed at the Mitchell Field Hospital for a short time before being transferred to Lovell General Hospital near Fort Devens, MA.

Lovell General Hospital near Fort Devens, MA.
My father arrived there in his pajamas. There they put him on a bed. It was a weekend and most of the other patients were gone home. The doctor asked my father if he would like to go home. My father gladly accepted the offer, so the doctor left the room to prepare him a weekend pass. The doctor didn’t know my father was a “stretcher case”. Although he didn’t even have his own uniform, his roommate let him borrow his uniform. Even though my father didn’t even have any sox or underwear, he put on his roommate’s uniform. When the doctor returned, my father was standing between the two beds, supporting his weight inconspicuously. After the doctor gave him the pass, he saluted the doctor sharply. Once the doctor left the room, my father made his way down the winding long, corridors of the single story hospital and caught a bus to Manchester, NH.

When he arrived in Manchester at the Carpenter Hotel bus station on Carpenter Street, he took a taxicab with another soldier who was headed to Amory Street. He went to his parent’s house, but they were not home. So he walked all the way to his sister, Jeanette’s, house on Kelly Street and climbed the stairs to the second floor -- all this with another man’s shoes and no sox or underwear on. But there was no one there either. Have you heard the saying, “Until you’ve walked a mile in another man’s shoes”? Well, my father literally did this with bad feet. So he walked all the way to Lafayette Street to his brother’s house. He was not even supposed to be walking, as he hadn’t done so in months and his feet had not yet healed from the surgeries he had at the prison camp.

He knocked at the door, and his sister-in-law, Maria, answered the door. Her jaw dropped and her eyes were popping out of her head with surprise. She said, “What are you doing here?” She would not even open the door. He asked if he could come in and sit down, so she let him in. He asked if he could take his shoes off, since his feet were hurting. When she saw that his feet were bleeding, she nearly passed out. She then explained that her husband – my father’s brother, Ray, had driven the whole family down to see my father at the hospital in Mass. They eventually returned home and were incredulous to find him there. He was so glad to be home, he managed to stand up and greet his parents with warm hugs.

After the weekend visit was over, his brother Ray drove him back to the hospital near Fort Devens. The doctor on duty who readmitted him was a different doctor than the one who gave him the weekend pass. This doctor was shocked when he discovered that my father went all the way home to NH for the weekend in his condition. He did not think it was funny, and was quite upset that this had happened.

The rest of the story about my father's life in the land of the free and the home of the brave can be found in my next post called Life After the War.

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Len Lacroix is the founder of Doulos Missions International.  He was based in Eastern Europe for four years, making disciples, as well as helping leaders to be more effective at making disciples who multiply, developing leaders who multiply, with the ultimate goal of planting churches that multiply. His ministry is now based in the United States with the same goal of helping fulfill the Great Commission. www.dmiworld.org.