It was the first compliment Greta had received since capture that wasn’t about being obedient or following orders.

It was about being capable, being intelligent, being human.

In the kitchen, Sergeant Williams recognized Leisel’s reliability.

He promoted her to assistant baker.

She was still a prisoner, but now she had a trusted role.

He taught her Canadian recipes, butter tarts, bananic bread.

She wrote the recipes down carefully.

She thought about teaching them to her mother back home someday.

One day, Williams asked about her life before the war.

Leisel told him the truth.

Poverty on the farm, never enough food.

Joining the military because the army fed her three meals a day.

Williams was quiet for a moment.

Then he said, “War takes advantage of people like you.

People who are desperate”.

“I’m sorry that happened”.

“Why are you sorry”?

Leisel asked.

“You’re not the one who”.

She stopped mid-sentence.

The realization hit her hard.

He wasn’t the one who lied to her.

Her own government had done that.

Analisa received more responsibility in the administrative office.

She now processed repatriation paperwork.

She learned that Germany had been divided into four occupation zones.

American, British, French, Soviet.

Prisoners would be sent home gradually.

Mothers with children would go first.

People with serious health problems, then everyone else.

She processed her own file one afternoon.

Her status was pending.

Her children’s location had been confirmed.

They were safe in Austria.

Her estimated repatriation date was late 1945 or early 1946.

Several more months in Canada, maybe longer.

She was surprised to find she wasn’t devastated by this news.

She had routine here, purpose, safety.

What waited for her in Germany?

Rubble, occupation, shame.

Lieutenant Morrison noticed how competent Analisa was.

One day, he asked if she’d worked in administration before the war.

“I was a legal secretary in Berlin,” she answered.

“Before what”?

“Before everything”.

He didn’t push.

He was always respectful.

A few days later, he asked, “What will you do when you go back?

Find my children.

Then I don’t know.

There’s nothing left there.

There’s you, Morrison said.

That’s that’s something.

These small kindnesses accumulated.

Day after day, week after week, they built up like layers of paint until Analisa could barely remember what she’d look like underneath.

The letters the women wrote showed their transformation.

Greta’s early letters were factual and defensive.

By week seven, they were completely different.

“Mother, I must tell you something difficult,” she wrote.

“The concentration camps were real.

I’ve seen the photographs.

I’ve read the testimonies.

What was done in our name?

The Canadians here treat us with more humanity than we showed to others.

This shames me, but it also gives me hope that humanity still exists, even after what we’ve done”.

Leisel’s letters remained honest from the start.

Papa the guard sergeant.

Williams asked about our farm.

He wants to know about Bavarian dairy methods.

He treats me like a person who knows valuable things.

I am learning English.

I am learning that not everyone outside Germany is evil.

I am learning that maybe we were the ones who did evil things.

Analisa wrote carefully to her children.

They were only six and nine.

She couldn’t tell them everything yet.

I am safe and working.

The people here are kind.

When I come home, we will build a new life together.

In her private diary, she wrote what she couldn’t tell them.

How do I explain that their father died for a lie?

That their mother served that lie willingly.

How do we live with this?

On July 15th, the tension in Bareric 3 finally exploded.

After Lights Out, a woman named Breijgit confronted the transformed women.

Breijgit was 28.

She’d been a Nazi party member before the war.

“You’ve all become traitors,” she said loudly.

“Collaborators, weak”.

Analisa responded calmly.

“We’ve become honest.

There’s a difference.

They feed you and you forget everything Germany stood for.

Breijgit’s voice rose.

Greta spoke quietly.

Germany stood for lies.

I taught those lies to children.

I will never forgive myself for that.

You’re pathetic.

Breit spat.

Wait until we return home.

You’ll see Germany rise again.

Leisel surprised everyone with her fierceness.

I hope Germany rises.

But not that Germany.

Never again that Germany.

The argument escalated.

Voices got louder.

Guards had to intervene.

The next day, the camp administration made a decision.

They separated the women into different barracks based on their attitudes.

14 women moved to barrack 5.

They’d self- selected as the transformed group.

Greta, Leisel, and Analyza were among them.

The atmosphere was completely different here.

Women had honest conversations.

They supported each other.

They helped each other processed the trauma, guilt, and confusion.

They jokingly called themselves die.

The awakened ones.

It was half joke, half serious.

They formed a study group, practiced English together, discussed philosophy, planned for their futures.

Private Schmidt sometimes joined their conversations.

He was the young German Canadian interpreter.

His parents had immigrated in 1928.

They’d escaped before the Nazis rose to power.

One evening, the women asked him directly.

“Do you hate us”?

“I hate what Germany became,” he said honestly.

“I don’t hate you.

You’re victims, too, in a way”.

“Victims”?

Greta challenged.

We participated some more than others, but yes, you participated.

Acknowledging that is the first step forward.

He recommended books from the camp library.

They started an informal book club.

Remark Gouta Hessa.

They were rediscovering German culture that hadn’t been poisoned by Nazi ideology.

In August, news reached the camp.

Atomic bombs had been dropped on Japan.

The war was truly ending everywhere.

Now in Bareric 5, the women tried to process the scale of destruction happening globally.

We started this, Greta said.

Germany started this war.

And the world will remember, Ana Lisa added.

Our children will inherit that shame.

Leisel’s voice was firm.

Then our children must do better.

We must do better.

That evening, the women of Bareric 5 wrote a collective letter to the camp commonant.

They requested permission to work in the local community under supervision.

We wish to contribute something positive before we leave, they wrote.

It was the first step in their transformation from prisoners to people who wanted to rebuild.

The response came one week later.

Request approved.

12 women from Bareric 5 would work community service in Bowmanville.

supervised and controlled, but real interaction with Canadian civilians.

The next phase of their journey was about to begin.

The community service program started in August 1945.

12 women from Bareric 5 were selected.

Greta, Leisel, and Analisa were among them.

Every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon, they worked three-hour shifts in the town of Bowmanville.

Two guards escorted them.

This was the first time they’d interacted with regular Canadian civilians beyond guards and supervisors.

Greta was assigned to help at the local hospital.

She worked in the hospital laundry, which was familiar, but she also helped with Germanspeaking patients.

Some elderly German Canadians needed someone who spoke their language.

One patient was Mr..

s.

Holtz.

She was 71 years old.

She’d immigrated from Bavaria in 1905.

One day, Mr..

s.

Holtz told Greta about her grandson, Eric.

He’d been killed in Holland in April 1945.

Just weeks before the war ended.

Greta expected hatred when she heard this.

Instead, Mr..

s.

Holt said, “The war took my Eric, but hating all Germans won’t bring him back”.

I’m sorry, Greta whispered.

I’m so sorry for what we did.

You didn’t kill him, girl.

But you can honor his memory by being better than what Germany became.

Greta visited Mr..

s.

Holtz every week after that.

A bond formed between them.

Mr..

s.

Holtz told her about the German Canadian community, how they’d struggled during the war, faced discrimination, had to prove they weren’t the enemy.

You’ll have to do the same thing, Mr..

s.

Holt said.

Prove you’re different.

Now, Leisel worked at the community garden.

She helped local families maintain their victory garden.

Canadian farm families were curious about her.

They asked questions about Germany.

She answered honestly, told them about poverty, propaganda, desperation.

One farmer was Mr..

Chen.

He was Chinese Canadian.

He told Leisel his own story.

he’d faced discrimination in Canada.

Ben interned briefly just for being Chinese.

This country isn’t perfect, he said.

But it’s trying to be better.

Germany can too.

Leisel planted turnips and potatoes alongside him.

She thought of her father’s farm, wondered if it had survived the war.

Analisa worked at the library.

She helped reorganize the German language collection.

The librarian was Miss Peterson.

She was 45, had never married, and loved literature.

Ana Lisa discovered something important.

The library had kept significant German literature despite the war.

Gerta, Schiller, men, the good parts of German culture.

We don’t ban whole cultures, Miss Peterson explained.

We ban specific dangerous ideas.

They discussed literature and philosophy during slow afternoons.

Analisa realized something profound.

German culture could be separated from Nazi ideology.

Your children can be proud of Beethoven and GA.

Miss Peterson said they don’t have to carry Hitler.

In September, letters from home finally arrived through the Red Cross.

They’d taken two months to reach Canada.

Greta received a letter from her mother.

Hamburgg was in ruins.

50% of the city destroyed by bombing.

The family was surviving in a partially damaged apartment.

Food was scarce, but the British occupation was providing rations.

Her mother’s tone was defeated and exhausted.

Come home when you can.

We need you here.

Leisel’s letter from her father brought better news.

The farm was intact.

They were in the American occupation zone.

The Americans had taken some livestock but paid for it.

The village had only light damage.

We are ashamed of what Germany did.

Her father wrote, “Come home.

We love you”.

Analisa’s letter came from her sister who was caring for the children.

They were safe in Austria.

They asked about their mother constantly.

They didn’t fully understand the war yet.

They need you.

come soon.

Repatriation planning began in October.

The first wave of prisoners would go home soon.

Mothers with young children had priority.

So did the critically ill and elderly.

Analisa was selected for a December transport because her children were under 10 years old.

Greta and Leisel would have to wait until February or March 1946.

All three women had mixed feelings.

They wanted to go home, but they feared what home had become.

They’d grown used to the safety and routine here.

Christmas 1945 came.

The camp provided a modest celebration, extra rations, carol singing, German and Canadian carols both.

Guards shared cookies their families had sent from home.

Major Campbell gave a brief speech.

This is the last Christmas of this war.

Next year you’ll be home.

Make it count.

The women of Bareric 5 exchange handmade gifts.

Greta knitted mittens for Leisel.

Leisel made Anelise a pressed flower bookmark.

Analisa wrote each of them a letter describing what she’d learned from their friendship.

On December 15th, Ana prepared to leave.

She gathered her few belongings.

The camp gave her travel papers, $20 Canadian, and a warm coat.

She said goodbye to the women of Bareric 5.

To Greta, she said, “Teach truth.

That’s your purpose now”.

To Leisel, “Don’t forget how to laugh.

The world needs joy”.

She hugged them both.

Then she boarded a transport with 23 other women heading to the British zone of Germany.

The journey took 3 weeks.

Train to Halifax.

Ship to Southampton.

Train through devastated Germany to the British zone.

Analisa arrived in Hamburgg on January 8th, 1946.

The devastation was beyond anything she’d imagined.

Rubble everywhere.

Displaced persons wandering the streets.

British soldiers maintaining order.

She processed through a repatriation center.

They gave her a food voucher, temporary papers, and a travel permit to Austria.

It took 5 days to reach her children by train.

The infrastructure was destroyed.

Bridges were out.

Trains ran on temporary schedules.

But finally, she reached the small Austrian village.

Her daughter Elsie was nine now.

Her son Klouse was six.

They barely remembered her.

She barely recognized herself, but they were alive.

She’d kept her promise.

Back at camp 30, Greta and Leisel were among the last 40 women remaining.

The camp felt empty.

Most prisoners had already gone home.

They continued their work in community service and English classes.

Greta was now fluent enough to have real conversations.

Mr..

s.

Patterson made an unexpected offer.

If you ever want to come back to Canada, write to me.

We sponsor immigrants.

Greta was touched.

I have to help rebuild Germany first, but thank you.

Leisel asked Sergeant Williams, “Will you remember us, kid?

I’ll never forget you.

You taught me that people are people, no matter what uniform they wore”.

On March 3rd, 1946, the last transport departed.

40 prisoners, 14 women, Greta and Leisel, together until the very end.

Major Campbell gave final words.

You arrived as enemies.

You leave as human beings who’ve learned hard truths.

Use them well.

They boarded the train to Halifax.

The ship crossing took 11 days.

March 10th to 21st.

the same duration as when they’d arrived, but everything was different.

No chains, no fear, only uncertainty about the future.

They arrived in Bremer Havin on March 22nd.

Germany was in ruins.

They were interrogated about war crimes.

Both were cleared.

They received ration cards and travel permits.

At the train station, they said their final goodbye.

Leisel’s train headed south to Bavaria.

Greta’s went to Hamburgg.

They exchanged addresses.

Write to me.

Promise, Leisel said.

I promise.

We’re sisters now.

War made us enemies, but truth made us sisters.

The trains departed in opposite directions.

Greta arrived in Hamburgg on March 25th.

The city was unrecognizable.

She found her mother’s building, climbed three flights of damaged stairs, knocked on the door.

Her mother opened it.

She’d aged a decade, thin, exhausted.

They stared at each other.

“Moody, I’m home.

Greta, my girl”.

They embraced.

Her mother whispered, “You’re alive”.

“Thank God”.

Greta whispered back, “I learned things.

Terrible important things.

We need to talk”.

She stepped inside to begin rebuilding from the rubble, both literal and metaphorical.

Greta spent 1946 living with her mother in a partially rebuilt Hamburg apartment.

She applied to teach again, but first had to go through denatification.

[snorts] British occupation officials interviewed her for months.

She told them the truth.

I taught Nazi ideology to children.

I was wrong.

I want to teach truth now.

In 1947, after a year-long process, she was cleared to teach.

She was assigned to an elementary school in a rebuilt section of Hamburgg.

She taught history, German, and ethics.

The new curriculum emphasized democratic values and critical thinking.

She never hid her P experience from students.

She used it as a teaching tool.

I learned that propaganda works, she told them.

I believed lies.

Question everything, even your teachers.

Greta never married.

This was partly by choice, partly by circumstance.

She maintained letters with Leisel until 1948.

Then the correspondence became sporadic, but she wrote to Mr..

s.

Patterson in Canada twice a year until Mr..

s.

Patterson died in 1963.

In 1952, a German graduate student interviewed Greta for research on P experiences.

The students thesis was later published as a book.

Greta’s testimony became central to it.

One quote became famous.

They removed our chains and called us human.

That single act did more to defeat Nazi ideology than a thousand propaganda pamphlets.

Leisel returned to her family’s farm in Bavaria, the American occupation zone.

The farm had damage but was functional.

Her family was intact.

She used the Canadian baking techniques she’d learned to supplement the farm income.

In 1948, she opened a small bakery in the village.

In 1950, she married a local farmer named Hans.

He’d lost a leg in the war.

Neither of them discussed the war much.

They focused on building a future instead.

They had three children born in 1951, 1953, and 1955.

Leisel taught them English using what she’d learned in Canada.

She told them carefully edited stories about her time far away.

Once I was in a place where people were kind to me when they didn’t have to be.

Remember that kindness matters.

In the 1970s, Leisel’s Village established an exchange program with a town in Ontario.

It was near Bowmanville.

By coincidence, Leisel became the coordinator.

It was the first time in 25 years she’d publicly discussed her P experience.

In 1975, at age 49, she made an emotional return visit to Canada.

She visited the site of camp 30.

It had been demolished.

Residential houses stood there now.

She placed flowers where Bareric 5 once stood.

She met Sergeant Williams widow.

Williams had died in 1968.

His widow said, “He talked about you girls often.

He said you taught him something about humanity he never forgot”.

Leisel replied, “He taught us the same thing”.

Analisa rebuilt her life in Austria with her children.

She worked as a translator for American occupation forces.

Her English and German skills were valuable.

Later, she became a court translator in Vienna.

She advocated for fair treatment of former PS in legal proceedings.

In 1952, she remarried, an Austrian lawyer who was also a widowerower.

She helped her children understand their father’s death.

He died believing something that wasn’t true, but he loved us and that love was real.

[snorts] In the 1960s, Anaisa wrote a memoir.

It was never published commercially, but was preserved in Austrian archives.

She titled it From Chains to Understanding, a German woman’s Canadian captivity.

In one passage, she wrote, “We expected barbarism and received civilization.

We expected revenge and received justice.

We expected hatred and received the possibility of redemption.

I returned to Germany carrying this lesson.

I tried to pass it to my children and they to theirs.

This is how we rebuild from ashes.

One act of unexpected humanity at a time.

In 1965, the three women had a reunion in Vienna, 20 years since their captivity ended.

All three were now in their 40s and 50s.

They spent a weekend together.

The first time since 1946, they walked Vienna streets and shared memories.

Continue reading….
« Prev Next »