By chance, I found myself the link between a Canadian prisoner of war and a young German nurse whose lives fleetingly intersected during World War II. A shiver runs down my spine every time I retell this story.
The minute I pulled into Renate’s driveway near Waldeck, Texas, I knew something was wrong. Instead of beaming with delight, the elderly German war bride stood ramrod straight, her face twisted in anger, or was it anguish? Hurley, her rescue pup, who usually trembled with excitement at my arrival, stood at attention at her side. Did he, too, sense Renate’s distress?
I racked my brain.
Had I said or done something to upset my client? During the course of writing her life story in 2012, she also had become a treasured friend.
At a loss, I got out of my car, attempting to act nonchalant. Renate looked through me, not even offering a greeting.
“Come,” she said abruptly and turned.
Following her and Hurley into the house, I could not help but notice that Renate’s hair and clothing were uncharacteristically disheveled.
The tension level was brittle as we approached an oversized road map of Germany that covered the entire dining room table.
What’s wrong here, I wondered?
“I was there,” said Renate, pointing to a squiggle on the map, a road between Weimar and Bad Berka, Germany. She turned to look at me, wide-eyed.
“I was there. I saw him and I ran.”
Renate’s eyes filled with tears as she reached under the map and retrieved a book. It was Saddles and Service, the biography I had written about Canadian World War II prisoner-of-war Winston Parker. I’d brought it for her to read the previous week.
Renate searched my face, seeking understanding. Then it hit me.
Could Renate have seen Winston in the latter days of his death march? I remembered key events on his timeline and, due to starvation and neglect, what desperate condition the POWs were in by then.
Winston’s 13th mission was his last
It had been a long war for the Canadian aviator.
On April 9, 1942, Winston’s Wellington bomber was shot down over Germany. The 23-year-old spent the next three years in a horrendously harsh prisoner-of-war camp, Stalag VIIIB, near Lamsdorf, Germany.
But the worst was yet to come.
The prisoners’ lives changed irrevocably, and not for the better, on Jan. 22, 1945, when their German captors marched the men out in long columns westward away from the camp. They struck out on this cruel and inhumane ordeal on foot in the dead of winter.
“Read aloud,” Renate told me, pointing to a bookmark that opened on page 120 of Winston’s story.
Winston recalls the Death March horror
“The first day, the group I was in marched 35 kilometers at a pretty fast pace that sure tested our limits. Then, they gave us shorter marches. We would march for 15 kilometers some days. We got so little to eat that we literally were starving.
“Sometimes, we’d go to wherever we were to stop for the night and after two or three hours of just hanging around, the Germans would bring in big tubs of soup called keebles.
“Some nights, there would be a ration of bread for us. Other nights, we were fed nothing. Sometimes we found leeks still in the ground. Eating those frozen leeks made us suffer terrible dysentery. A medical officer, who began the march out with us, taught us to burn wood and eat the charcoal in an effort to help control the dysentery. That was the only medicine we had.
“As POWs, we were very aware that the Germans considered us the lowest form of life in the country. Whenever others came along the road where we were marching, we were kicked off to let them pass.
“The British would come bombing at night and invariably, it seemed, they dropped bombs where we had slept the night before. It gave us great comfort to tell each other, ‘They know where we are.’
“Then one night the British dropped bombs too close to our column and one or two of our fellows were killed, although I was just shaken up.
“The Germans would sometimes put us into brick kilns or sheds at night. Occasionally, there were two or three sheds, yards apart with 300 men here and 500 men there. Some nights, we just slept out in the open.
“In the latter part of the march, sometimes as many as six to eight fellows just didn’t get up in the morning. They didn’t make it.
“We zigzagged on roads until we were south and west of Hanover, a long distance from where we had started. There, the Germans turned us around and marched us back in the direction that we’d just come.
“We awoke one morning to find there were no German guards. They had gone away in the night.
“The next thing we knew, some American jeeps and a tank or two came rolling toward us. Patton’s Army had found us. We had been liberated! The date was April 11, 1945.
“We had spent nearly three months on the road and traveled over 1,000 kilometers. I’d been on one the longest forced marches of World War II, which became known as the Death March.”
Renate’s Harrowing Experience
“Now read what I told you a couple of weeks ago,” Renate instructed, pointing to the draft copy of her life story, Same Moon, Same Stars, on top of my notebook. She had recounted the ghastly experience she and her friend had endured when their train was hammered hard three times by Allied bombers.
“Blood was everywhere. Dead bodies, including those of the engineer and the conductor in their uniforms, were all over the street. People were crying and screaming. The train had been demolished except for the third car in which we had been riding.
“We turned our back on the terrible sight and focused on our predicament. How were Gerda and I to get home to Bad Berka now? We still had six kilometers to travel. We decided to try walking through the woods.
“Crossing a road, Gerda and I saw a group of men in filthy uniforms marching, more dead than alive. There was so little life left in them, they were so beaten up, they looked neither left nor right. They plodded along, with just enough energy to put one foot in front of the other.
“These were Allied prisoners taken from a prisoner of war camp before the Russians or Americans could liberate them. The guards with these men looked half-dead themselves, although they wore different clothes.
“The men were so pitiful that they frightened and unnerved Gerda and me.
“As 18-year-old hospital nurses, we had seen a lot of misery among the wounded soldiers and we had witnessed death, but somehow, this seemed worse.
“Heartless.”
To Err Is Human
Raising her head, Renate met my eyes as she struggled to speak.
“I am so ashamed. We were so afraid of them. We ran.
“Will you tell Winston that? Will you apologize for me? I won’t rest until you have talked with him.”
I did as I was told. I returned home and phoned Winston, who lived in Okotoks, Alberta, Canada. After exchanging pleasantries, I began to explain my mission.
I hesitated slightly, though. Although more than half a century had passed, memories of the death march still were painful for him.
Then I dived in.
“Renate says she saw you toward the end of the march. The date and location in your book match her whereabouts as far as time and place go.”
When there was silence on his end of the line, I plunged ahead.
“Renate says she is sorry that her people, the Germans, put you and the other prisoners-of-war through that such a terrible ordeal. She also is ashamed she didn’t treat you with more respect herself.
“Will you forgive her, she wants to know?”
To Forgive is Divine
In a heartbeat, I had an answer.
“Tell Renate,” Winston said, “no apology is necessary. Our countries were at war. Tell her I know that German civilians like her suffered, too.
“Tell her I have had a good life and I hope she has, too.”
I scribbled down his words verbatim and called Renate, who picked up the phone on the first ring. When I finished reading Winston’s response to her, I could sense her anguish dissipating.
She cleared her throat. Then she spoke.
“Well, then,” she said.
With those two words, memories of an encounter between two people whose lives were torn apart by war were put to rest.
She shifted to the present.
“You recorded no stories this week,” Renate reminded me, “so we are a little behind. Come on Tuesday prepared to catch up.”
More of Her Story
“I am going to tell you more about this American GI who came walking down the street on the 14th of September 1945, in Eschwege where my friend, Marga, and I were living. We were scared to death when he spoke, but he said he only wanted to practice his German,” Renate reminisced.
“He told us his name was Harvey Meiners and he was from Texas. I found it very interesting that his grandparents came from Germany and that’s why he could speak German, although not very well.
“He was sort of nice, not pushy like so many of the American soldiers.”
* * *
The GI who approached Renate that September afternoon long, long ago turned out to be the love of her life. Harvey and Renate Meiners enjoyed many happy years together. Over time, the German war bride’s homesickness was replaced with deep, heartfelt patriotism for her adopted nation and state.
Renate Macherauch Meiners lived to see her life story, Same Moon, Same Stars, published a few months before her death on Saturday, Nov. 29, 2014, at her home in La Grange, Texas. She was 88. Her book is available on Amazon.
When he entered the Royal Canadian Air Force in August 1940, Winston’s weight was about 174 pounds. Upon his release from captivity, he weighed less than 98.
Winston says the sacrifices that he and other Allied service personnel were called upon to make were for ‘the greater good.’ His life story, Saddles and Service, is available on Amazon.
Winston Churchill Parker marked the 75th anniversary of his liberation as a prisoner of war on Saturday, April 11, 2020, at his home in Okotoks, Alberta. He passed away a few months after his 102nd birthday in 2020.
* * *
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Hello Winston, Dave Lovell here in UK. I’ve just read the story of your meeting in the woods with Renate during your long march from Stalag VIIIB, although at the time you didn’t know you were in the same place at the same time. The video that you so kindly recorded for me will soon be available to many people across the world. Perhaps my sole hope is that through this at least one person will come to recognise the spirit and ethos that you espouse – that we should all live our lives for ‘the greater good.’
Thank you, Dave. Renate and Winston’s examples of living through challenging times without becoming bitter and hateful remind us that while we may not be able to control what happens to us, we can control how we respond to it. When the video of Winston’s Death March experiences becomes available, it will be an honor to share it.
Oh Winston, how I would have loved for my Dad to have talked with you! He too was in WWII as an American tanker, landing on Normandy Beach D-day +1. Sadly he passed away in 2015 just a few months shy of 91. I was lucky enough that he wanted to share his story with me. I can’t even imagine all that you went through just reading this short story that Elaine has written. I have read Renate’s story as I too now live in La Grange, Texas. Now I will have to read yours! God Bless you Winston and thank you sir for your service.
Thank you, Denise! Your dad would have been proud that the first sight Winston and the other surviving prisoners of war in his group saw included American tanks from Patton’s Army. The liberation must have been very emotional for the American troops, too. I know Winston will enjoy your words!
Winston, having read your story I’m filled with thoughts of your life well lived and continuing to be to this day. Your response to the troubled Renate was as kind and generous as it was wise.
Thank you, Carolyn. I especially like the words you chose to describe Winston’s response: kind and generous. They’re good words to keep in mind as we continue to deal with the Covid 19 crisis. This, too, shall pass!
Dear Winston, How I would love to meet you. I grew up on a farm outside of La Grange, Texas, speaking German as did many Texans of my era. I was born about a year before the US got into WWII. Our neighbors in Texas out in the country were Czechs, other German speaking folks and Mexican Americans. I knew Harvey and Renate Meiners and sang with them in a German chorus in Houston, where I currently live. I enjoyed the book on Renate that Elaine wrote with Renate, and I have, and will read, the book on Winston Parker. The chapter of your march, The Heartless March, was quite poignant. My service was with the US Navy on a destroyer during the Vietnam war, and my brother was a submariner, having commanded one of our ballistic subs. We have traveled over the years in the various areas through which your march took place, and we were in your beloved Alberta last summer! You are an inspiration to many! Stay well during this pandemic.
I know Winston will enjoy your comments, Rod, especially since Renate and Harvey were your friends. Renate used to tease Harvey that he was more German that she was – and he was an American by birth. Winston will also be interested in how you and your brother served our country. There’s a special bond, I think, between those who do so even if they are generations apart or have served in wartime or peacetime. Thank you again for your message to Winston.
Oh, Elaine, after having read your story today, I was speechless! I had to walk away from the computer for a while to comprehend my thoughts and feelings. Having been involved with Renate’s book, having met her and also having read Winston’s story I can only say I am very proud to have both books as part of my collection. Thanks so much for sharing this story. I can only imagine how Renate must have felt when she realized she had witnessed first hand a part of the Death March Winston had endured.
My message for Winston is to thank you for your service, your endurance and your willingness to serve for the greater good of all. Thanks be to God there was liberation for the survivors!
It is a small world isn’t it? I found it fascinating that somewhere in her subconscious Renate had stored the image of the prisoners of war. After being almost killed in the train bombing, Renate must have felt like the nightmare she was in would not end. As you may remember from her book, when Renate got home her mother thought she was a ghost. Word has already reached her mother that the train Renate and Gerda were traveling on had been heavily bombed. She feared for the worst. This took place just 75 years ago. Thank you for your message to Winston!
Dear Winston, I have just read Elaine’s great story about you and Renate. While I have read Renate’s book, I have just found out about yours. Looking forward to reading it. Renate and I were friends, singing in one group together and, for many years, playing dulcimers in another group. I was so sorry to lose her. Elaine and I are also friends, having spent time together giving tours to visitors to La Grange, Texas. Wishing you well in this time of world problems.
Jim Holmes, Ledbetter, Texas
Jim, I know that Winston will enjoy hearing from you. He, too, has been a community builder all his life. One of the stories in his book that especially touched my heart was many year ago when he and a friend considered it an honor to dig the grave of a friend or neighbor when he/she died. Winston is waiting for spring to make its late debut in Southern Alberta. It’s running very late this year.
Elaine, first of all, I absolutely love Winston’s name! I wish I had had the opportunity to meet Renate and Winston! Two worlds did collide that day so long ago. Elaine, you put this powerful and poignant story on the printed page to be read by future generations. What a gift for all to read! These two heroes certainly make up the Greatest Generation.
Thank you, Melinda. Yes, I think you’re right. Both Renate and Winston are heroes – each – in his/her own way. I can’t truly comprehend how tough the conditions they lived through were. We simply don’t have a frame of reference for that level of devastation. Like your dad, Renate and Winston are to be admired!
I still tear up when I read this story about Renate and Winston’s experiences. Thank you Elaine for your beautiful telling of their lives and helping us all feel their reactions.
You’re welcome, Susie. I still find it ironic that I was the link between these two fine people who shared such a fleeting wartime experience.
Whew! I cried as I read this story. Thanks for writing the experiences that these brave people had during such a sad time.
Winston your courage and determination are like none in my generation. God Bless you and thank you for fighting Hitler and all that he represented.
Your words will mean a lot to Winston. Thank you, Gayle. We still have a lot to learn from people like Renate and Winston. I am honored that I had the chance to write both their stories.
Gayle, I too, cried as I read Renata’s story. I had to continue reading this story through my tears. What a story!! Now I want to read both books by those heroes! Thanks for telling us the full story behind the books.
Barbara Brauner
Your sweet message means a lot, Barbara, because the love of your life was a WWII veteran, too. I know you were thinking of Frank when you read Renate and Winston’s story. We can never repay the sacrifices men like Frank and Winston made for freedom in the western world. Thank you for writing!
Dear Winston, My father was Co-pilot on a B-24 Liberator. He flew two missions over France on D Day. Six days later on June 12th, he was shot down and parachuted into Brittany. He hid in the bushes while the German soldiers were all around him. They had seen the parachutes descend. All but one of my father’s crew made it to safety. One pilot’s parachute did not open properly. The German soldiers didn’t find my father and the French farmers in the area came to his aid. He was hidden by the French underground. It is quite a story of great generosity, true comradeship and deep gratitude on both sides. On the 14th of August, 1944, my father could hear the sound of tanks and ran from where he was hiding that day. Soon the 6th Armored Division of Patton’s Third Army came rolling through the countryside. He joined his countrymen. That experience deeply altered the life of my father. He remained very close to his French friends in Combourg, France. I was seven years old when my family met these French farmers and their families who had saved my father’s life at great peril to their own. My father was stationed in France after the war and I begin my first grade in France. Years later, my parents rented a small magical stone farm house about 200 yards from the location of where my father’s Liberator crashed. Our lives are beautifully woven together, more than we know. Your story is most remarkable. You were able to carry the spirit and the spark of life within you. You prevailed.
What a beautiful personal story you have shared with Winston, me and other readers as you describe your Dad’s experience in being saved by the actions of the French Underground. I can see a little girl dancing around that magical stone farm years ago as her father watched, likely thinking how close he came to being a prisoner of war himself. Thank you so much for sharing, Sally! I wish you would produce this story in a picture book for all ages.
A beautiful story, Elaine, especially knowing Winston. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you, Anne. I appreciate your comment so much because you, too, have sat and visited with Winston.
Dear Winston,
I was privileged to work with Elaine as she prepared Saddles and Service for publication. I was so deeply touched as I read about your experiences that I became involved in the story and had to read it many times to get my work done! I felt I came to know you through that work and I count that as a blessing. I learned some valuable life lessons vicariously through you.
I was moved to tears again as I reread some of your story today as well as the amazing connection with Renate’s story. Thank you for sharing your remarkable life story with the world.
Deb, I know Winston will enjoy your comments. When I was starting to work on his prisoner of war experiences, he warned me that the war was only five years out of his life and he didn’t want it to be longer percentage-wise than any other five-year period in his life. I remember sending him a list of questions and out of 22, he agreed to talk about five or six. He didn’t want to discuss photos and it wasn’t until I was just finishing the manuscript several months later that an envelope arrived in the mail unannounced with some pictures of Stalag VIIIB. I did my best to respect his privacy and painful memories, but pushed gently because the world needs to know what he and his comrades went through.
This was an incredible story, as I was reading it, I could visualize what was going on in my head. It saddens me to hear what Winston went through, although it says a lot about him that he was able to make it through and live a full life. I do not blame Renate for running, when things make me nervous or scare me, I often do the same.
What a small world it is that these 2 remarkable stories are connected.
Thanks, Tara. It is, indeed, a small world. Two people, two countries, 67 years later! I know Winston will appreciate your comment and I do, too!
The world is filled with amazing coincidences, but this one is just staggering. How wonderful that Winston was able to forgive Renate and that you were the link between the two victims of war.
Yes, Elinor. I was staggered by the enormity of the coincidence when it occurred. It still makes a shiver run down my spine. I wasn’t surprised at Winston’s response though. Nor was I surprised last week when we were discussing the COVID 19 crisis and he said it reminded him of WWII when individuals made sacrifices ‘for the greater good.’ I didn’t have to rush and write the phrase down because it will be with me always.
Dear Winston,
Thank you for your service sounds trite after what you and others went through, but we do thank you and your generation who gave so much that we might be free. That you and Renate both came through the war with the holy ability to apologize, love and forgive is such a tribute to your characters. What a blessing that you both were able to survive and link up in this amazing encounter through Elaine so many years later! It should be a lesson to us all on how interconnected we are, even when we do not realize it.
We often forget how terribly oppressed the German people were by their own government during this time. That the insanity had to be suppressed by the valiant sacrifice of those like you, Winston, is also something we all need to remember.
A friend of mine talked about how each year she would go buy a can of evaporated milk and drink it. Why? Well this for her marked the day when the Americans first reached her small German town and gave canned milk to her and the other children. She was five at the time and starving. She said that milk literally meant life to her. Nothing before or since has ever tasted so good to her. She remembers the soldiers crying because they were told they didn’t dare give the children the chocolate they wanted to pass out as it might kill them in the weakened state they were in. She was so moved with the compassion of the American G.I.’s who “liberated” her and her country and later immigrated to America and became an American citizen.
Winston, this is the season of Easter, and I know you area of Canada is still stuck in winter, but sending you blessings for the coming spring. May you continue to thrive and enjoy life for many years to come. Special prayers that the virus will not come near you!
Pastor Lemae
Thank you, Lemae for your kind comments directed at Winston. I am touched by the memory you shared of your German friend’s memory of the evaporated milk. Winston will certainly relate to that because his liberators shared their personal rations that made the POWs dreadfully ill. Their systems could not handle the fortified K-rations. In Winston’s words, “They wiped us out.”
Dear Winston. Renate and Harvey were my cousins and I loved them dearly. Thank you for your generous response to Renate’s apology. You were so kind to make it possible for her to come to terms with an ugly memory that made her feel ashamed. For you to say you understood that there was terrible suffering on both sides was surely a balm to her soul.
I don’t find it strange at all that Elaine became the link between you and Renate. Elaine has the gift of being able to see beneath the surface and find connections between all of us.
With wishes for your continued health and happiness, Liz Rowden
Renate is looking down from heaven smiling! She loved you dearly. I didn’t get to know Harvey because he had died when I began spending time with Renate. I sincerely thank you for your words of praise about my role, as well. Aren’t we fortunate to find people in our lives whose stories enhance our own existence? Thank you!
Thank you Mr. Winston for sharing your testimony of courage and faith with all of us. I plan on having my school age daughters read your book while they are out of school due to the pandemic. Thanks to Elaine, they have been able to read about and even meet so many wonderful people like you who are brave enough to share your lives with us. My family was scheduled to go on an educational trip this summer through the school to Washington DC and New York which included a visit to the Holocaust museum; however the trip was recently postponed to 2021. This will give us more time to read both of your books and to remember to count our blessings as we are quarantined at home over the next few months. Thank you again and I pray you remain in good health and good spirits as we navigate through this pandemic. May God continue to bless you abundantly!
What a gracious letter to Winston you have written, Katy. Thank you! You are so right — waiting for the Washington trip next year does provide your daughters with an opportunity to learn even more about what they will see and experience! You are such a bright light in the world. Thank you for reaching out to others. BTW, Winston recorded his memories of the Death March several months ago and that video will be available soon. I think your family will really enjoy it, especially if they are reading his book. Thank you again!
Mr. Parker,
Thank you for your service and sacrifices! I was born after WWII but I am drawn to your stories and hope that this time in history is never forgotten.
I am very happy that you were able to have a good life!
God Bless You!
Linda Burke Diers
Bless you, Linda, for your interest in WWII and desire to see the stories from that era survive. Like you, I think they can provide us with lessons for living.
Mr. Parker, as someone else said in their comments, thank you for your service. That’s so important and maybe even more so that we honor such service by never forgetting and continuing to make sure those who are younger also know the sacrifices made to keep us free. I knew Renate also. For a time she lived across the street from my Mother in La Grange and they were friends. My Dad was in WWII in the Battle of the Bulge and served in Germany and France. His father came here from Germany as a young man and my Dad grew up speaking German.He never talked much about the war, but I know he was part of a unit which liberated one of the concentration camps in Germany, something I know he never forgot. He died when I was only 23 and I wish we’d had more time to talk about his experiences. Renate gave me a copy of her book and I will order a copy of yours. I’m so glad Elaine shared your and Renate’s story. Stay well and thanks again.
ak schmidt, La Grange
Thank you for your comment and also sharing highlights of your dad’s service. He certainly qualifies as a classic example of The Greatest Generation, who did what they had to do and never wanted recognition for their efforts. Have you seen the book The Texas Liberators: Veteran Narratives from World War II? There’s a copy in the La Grange library. Renate was a very dear soul and a real people person – interested in the welfare of those around her and anxious to be friends. Her hesitation in publishing her story was that readers would think of her less because she wore the ‘brown shirt’ as a child. She told me over and over that she was never a Nazi, but wore the uniform so she could compete in sports – which she loved. I know she would be relieved that no one who knew her or has read her book as ever remotely considered that she was, indeed, a Nazi.
Dear Mr. Parker, I feel there are no coincidences in life just God-incidences and how beautiful Elaine was called to reunite you and Renate in such a heartfelt way. You so graciously and without hesitation forgave Renate and what great comfort and joy you gave her. The hell you experienced was years later able to bring heaven to another soul. I feel certain, you and Renate will meet again in a “glory-filled” time! In my book, you truly are a hero–then and now!!!! God bless you in every way! My admiration! Jan Whitten, Schulenburg, Texas
PS: THANK YOU ELAINE!
Jan, what a heartfelt message from you for Winston. Thank you so much. Sometimes we overlook that we can learn from everyone who touches our lives just as we have learned about seeking forgiveness and granting it from Renate and Winston. You have explained the blessing that comes about very, very beautifully. Your message will bring Winston joy!
This is absolutely incredible Elaine. What a privilege for you to be in such a intricate role of sharing and preserving these amazing moments and connections in history forever!
Just reading this breaks and warms my heart at the same time.
Two very brave survivors suffering in a world of terror on opposite sides of such a hateful war, yet now in peace they can still have true empathy towards each other. Humanity at its finest, we should all learn from this.
Thanks, Debra. Winston’s response to Renate’s painful grief at the brief sighting that took place as the war in Europe wound down is amazing. I feel fortunate to have been the go-between and see all those years of pain be swept away on both sides. Perhaps the incident brought Winston some closure, too, as it certainly did for Renate. I never asked Renate because she never revisited the connection again whether or not Winston’s story had dredged that memory from her subconscious or whether she had carried the scar all those years. You can be very proud of the Parker blood in your veins! Through the kindness and generosity you show to all you live up to those high ideals that your people have set. I am very proud to call you my friend.