The first paragraph describing the conditions of the camp set the firm tone for the remainder of the report: “Generally speaking, three months after V-E Day and even longer after the liberation of individual groups, many Jewish displaced persons and other possibly non-repatriables are living under guard behind barbed-wire fences, in camps of several descriptions (built by the Germans for slave-laborers and Jews), including some of the most notorious of the concentration camps, amidst crowded, frequently unsanitary and generally grim conditions, in complete idleness, with no opportunity, except surreptitiously, to communicate with the outside world, hoping for some word of encouragement and action in their behalf.”
In a section on basic needs of Jewish DPs, he listed “clothing and shoes (most sorely needed), more varied and palatable diet, medicines, beds and mattresses, reading materials.” Then he noted that clothing for the refugees was requisitioned from Germans and reported that the military had not compelled German civilians to give up a sufficient amount of clothing. “The internees feel particularly bitter about the state of their clothing when they see how well the German population is dressed. The German population today is still the best dressed in all of Europe.”
Harrison’s first recommendation to Truman was to abolish the nonsegregation policy of the military. During the war, Jews were singled out by the Nazis for genocide and, under the present policy, were still living alongside Germans who had tormented them. Harrison argued their persecution had earned them the chance to live separately in camps. “In the days immediately ahead, the Jews in Germany and Austria should have the first claim upon the conscience of the people of the United States and Great Britain and other personnel who represent them in work being done in Germany and Austria. The first and plainest need is a recognition of their actual status and by this I mean their status as Jews. Refusal to recognize the Jews as such has the effect, in this situation, of closing one’s eyes to their former and more barbaric persecution.”
The only real solution to the problem, Harrison argued, was the immediate evacuation to Palestine of those Jews who wanted to leave Europe. This was Harrison’s second major recommendation—open immigration to Palestine. “To anyone who has visited the concentration camps and who has talked with the despairing survivors, it is nothing short of calamitous to contemplate that the gates of Palestine should be soon closed.” He asked Truman to release one hundred thousand immigration certificates to Jewish DPs so that they could resettle in Palestine. In every camp, Harrison had asked Jewish survivors where their first preference to go was, and in every camp the overwhelming answer was Palestine.
He also recommended that immigration laws in the United States be relaxed so that more Jews from Europe could obtain visas to America. This recommendation directly affected Irene in Philippeville, where she waited for her application to resettle in America to be granted.
Moreover, Harrison argued that the United States must force Germany to accept responsibility for the extermination of millions of Jews. “If it be true, as it seems to be widely conceded, that the German people at large do not have any sense of guilt with respect to the war and its causes and results, and if the policy is ‘To convince the German people that they have suffered a total military defeat and that they cannot escape responsibility for what they have brought upon themselves,’ then it is difficult to understand why so many displaced persons, particularly those who have so long been persecuted and whose repatriation or resettlement is likely to be delayed, should be compelled to live in crude, over-crowded camps while the German people in rural areas continue undisturbed in their homes.” Harrison’s reference to the policy regarding Germans was one of the principles agreed by the Soviet Union, Britain, and the United States during the Potsdam Conference in Berlin.
What became known as the Harrison Report was printed in its entirety in the New York Times. Truman’s reaction was swift: he supported Harrison’s recommendations. On August 31, Truman forwarded Harrison’s report to Eisenhower, commander of US forces in Europe. In his letter, Truman told Eisenhower that he agreed with Harrison’s recommendations and asked the general to make his own inspection tour and “clean up” the conditions in the camps. “I know you will agree with me that we have a particular responsibility toward these victims of persecution and tyranny who are in our zone,” wrote Truman to Eisenhower. “We must make clear to the German people that we thoroughly abhor the Nazi policies of hatred and persecution. We have no better opportunity to demonstrate this than by the manner in which we ourselves actually treat the survivors remaining in Germany.”
Eisenhower was furious. In a confidential message to Truman, Eisenhower agreed to tour the camps but minimized Harrison’s findings: “It is possible, as you say, that some of my subordinates in the field are not carrying out my policies and any instances found will be promptly corrected.” Instead, Eisenhower painted a brighter picture of conditions, arguing that no one representing “Jewish interests” had filed a formal complaint about US-controlled concentration camps. That belied the fact that the Harrison Report was one long indictment of the US military’s management of the camps.
In conclusion, Eisenhower told Truman, “Mr. Harrison’s report gives little regard to the problems faced, the real success attained in saving the lives of thousands of Jewish and other concentration camp victims and repatriating those who could and wished to be repatriated, and the progress made in two months to bring these unfortunates who remain under our jurisdiction from the depths of physical degeneration to a condition of health and essential comfort.”
Patton’s response was straightforwardly hostile and validated the charge that anti-Semitism was rife in the American military. In response to Harrison’s criticism that Jews were living like prisoners, Patton defended the policy of not segregating Jews from other Germans and Europeans. He said that Jewish DPs “either never had any sense of decency or lost it during their internment by the Germans.” He defended their still being under armed guard and opposed any “special treatment.” Without the guards, Patton said the Jews would “spread over the country like locusts.”
On October 17, 1945, the disagreement between Eisenhower and Harrison became public when the New York Times printed a copy of a letter Eisenhower sent to Truman after the general’s inspection. Eisenhower wrote that since Harrison’s visit in July, clothing and shoes had been made available for survivors, that medical services were “uniformly excellent,” and that all of the camps were stocked with adequate rations, much of it from the Red Cross.
The following day, in a radio address from Philadelphia, Harrison countered Eisenhower’s statement. He argued that Eisenhower’s claim that Jews were transferred to better quarters was misleading. He suggested that the houses of German civilians should be requisitioned and Jews housed there. “What difference does it make what kind of camps they are living in?” he asked. “The point is that there shouldn’t be any camps at all, but houses. Shifting them from one camp to another can hardly be said to be liberation.”
The public embarrassment of Eisenhower and the Army prompted immediate improvements. In the remaining months of 1945, Jewish DPs were segregated in camps and were given preferences in employment. Many concentration camps were closed. Eisenhower created a position, “advisor on Jewish affairs,” and named Simon H. Rifkind, a federal judge from the Southern District of New York, to the position. Rifkind arrived at Eisenhower’s headquarters in Frankfurt on October 20, 1945.
In his diary, Harrison not only made notes of what he saw in the concentration camps but also described his general impressions of Germany that summer on his tour: “Food ration lines, no business being conducted, trucks and wagons with people and scant belongings, walking with bundles, many bicycles. Women working in fields. Broken bridges.”
These were some of the same scenes, proof of the defeat of Germany, that Ingrid remembered seeing that summer, as she and her family settled into life in Idstein. She worked in the fields herself, gathering potatoes when she
could find them. Her long red hair and American accent attracted attention.
“Hey, Fräulein,” called the GIs who’d occupied the village by then. “What are you doing today?” Day by day, Ingrid seemed to close down emotionally, coming and going from the apartment by the train station, jumpy and distracted. An American citizen, she was mistaken for a German by American GIs.
Meanwhile, in Philippeville, Irene Hasenberg waited for one of those golden papers to arrive that would allow her to immigrate to America. By then, Irene was one of only twelve Jews from Bergen-Belsen in Philippeville. Finally, in December 1945, about three months after Truman received Harrison’s report, the regulations relaxed and Irene received word that her papers were in order. In mid-December, she boarded a Liberty ship, filled with troops, bound for the United States. Ingrid, far away in Idstein, had no hope of returning to her homeland and no idea that her life was in any way connected to that of a Jewish woman named Irene.
PART FOUR
THE ROAD HOME
CHAPTER NINETEEN
After the War
Idstein, Germany
In May 1945, Ingrid Eiserloh’s ten-year-old brother, Lothar, watched two regiments from the Second Armored Division of the US Army, nicknamed the Hell on Wheels division, roll into the streets of Idstein in bulky tanks. The battle for Idstein was over in a few minutes as the Germans did not put up a fight. At the sight of American occupiers, German soldiers ran through the streets—weapons down, hands over their heads—and surrendered.
The American tanks parked in the center of the city. Soldiers and civilians alike brought their weapons and handed them to Army tank commanders. Lothar watched in fascination as even the oldest men in the village brought their decrepit hunting rifles and added them to the pile. It took several days for the GIs to collect all the weapons in Idstein, a small city with a population of about five thousand. Within a week, the two regiments took over the school that Lothar and Ingrid attended and converted it into a mess hall.
The Allied nations—Britain, the United States, the Soviet Union, and France—carved up four zones of occupation in Germany. Fortunately for the Eiserloh family, Idstein was in the American zone, with its headquarters in nearby Frankfurt.
By then Germany had been battered by Allied forces. Food was almost nonexistent. The fields of farmers were destroyed and the rail system devastated. In large cities, streets pocked from American bombs were dusty with rubble. Perhaps in response to criticism in the Harrison Report, Eisenhower made sure German civilians were not coddled. He set the official ration for those living in the American zone at only 1,275 calories a day, much of it black bread. Like most families in Idstein, the Eiserlohs went hungry.
Johanna had not heard from Mathias since his arrest in March by the Gestapo on charges of being an American spy. She did not know if he was alive or dead. Prior to the American occupation, Johanna was taken in for questioning herself by German authorities and quickly released. She welcomed the arrival of the Americans.
On May 8, 1945, Ingrid turned fifteen, a confusing coming-of-age birthday. With her husband once again gone, Johanna was short-tempered and often critical of Ingrid for defending her father at every turn. Ingrid was an anomaly in the village, an American who spoke better English than German and was unaccustomed to the stringent rules in German schools. She shared a wooden desk with another girl, and the students rose when the teacher entered the room. More than once Ingrid’s hands were rapped with a ruler because she was disobedient. With her blue-green eyes and copper hair, which fell down her skinny back, Ingrid stood out. She was treated like a scapegoat—hated by the Germans for being an American and banished from America for reasons she did not understand.
Johanna enrolled Ensi in kindergarten, and she, too, had a difficult time adjusting to the regimented system. The first week in school Ensi, traumatized by the events of the war, wet her pants in the schoolyard. In the presence of the other students, the teacher shouted and scolded Ensi, who cried inconsolably. The teacher sent for Johanna, who came right away and was told that Ensi would not be allowed to come to school until she was toilet trained.
At ten years old, Lothar had it easier. Johanna doted on him, her nickname for him being the Little Prince. While Ingrid avoided Johanna, Lothar was eager to please his mother. In Lothar’s presence, Johanna’s mood softened and she acted as though there were no place on earth she’d rather be.
When the US Army took over Lothar’s school, one of the rooms was converted to a mess hall. Lothar and a few of his schoolmates went to the school in search of food and saw a long chow line of soldiers. One of the German boys asked the chief of the regiment for food.
“Get out of here, you little assholes,” said the chief in English.
Lothar’s German schoolmates skedaddled, but Lothar stayed behind. “Who are you calling assholes?” asked Lothar in English.
“Where did you learn English?” asked the chief.
“I’m from Strongsville, Ohio, near Cleveland.”
The chief’s jaw dropped. “I’m from Strongsville, too,” he snapped. “Do you have an older sister named Ingrid who has reddish golden hair?”
“Yes, I sure do. She’s here in Idstein.”
The unlikely coincidence assured the Eiserloh family’s survival. Lothar explained to the officer that his family had been interned in a camp in Texas and had recently been repatriated to Germany. He had papers to prove that he was an American citizen, born in Ohio. He explained that he and his family were starving and asked for help. On the spot, the chief of the regiment hired Lothar as a translator. With his small salary, Lothar was able to buy milk for Guenther, his baby brother, and provide rations for the family.
Eisenhower instituted a nonfraternization policy that forbade familiar contact between soldiers and occupied civilians, but the policy was loosely followed. In the case of Lothar, it was completely ignored. He was treated as a mascot. Within a week, Lothar had his own Army uniform, custom-made with pinstripes. Ingrid teased that he looked like Little Lord Fauntleroy.
Lothar did errands for the American GIs and made deliveries. One of his jobs was to go on regular patrol with the GIs, with one patrol at 7:00 a.m. and the other at 10:00 p.m. The soldiers drove around the countryside in half-tracks with three rubber wheels on each side and equipped with a small cannon. Lothar bounced in the backseat. “We’d see a house that was suitable for occupation,” recalled Lothar. “My major ability was that I spoke both German and English. I would explain to the people that lived in the houses that they were being occupied.”
In late May, another group of GIs on a search mission located Mathias Eiserloh locked in a small cell in a jail not far from Idstein. When the GIs arrived, he greeted them in English. After a thorough questioning, Mathias was released and he returned to his family. A condition of his release was that he had to undergo Eisenhower’s denazification process, which required interviews about his activities during the war and a search of his file as an enemy alien in America. When the process was completed, Mathias was hired as a translator for the Army as well. The paradox was not lost on Mathias: the government that had imprisoned him—and his family—in Crystal City, then exchanged all six of them as ransom for US citizens in Germany, was now his employer and responsible for saving his family’s life. “For the rest of his life, he talked about how the war was one long irony after another,” said Lothar. “He’d shake his head. No way to figure it all out.”
The Army moved the Eiserloh family into a small, two-room facility on the outskirts of town. Johanna, Ingrid, and Ensi didn’t see much of either Mathias or Lothar, whose days were ordered to military precision by the Americans. Food was no longer a problem, and Mathias had access to all the American cigarettes he wanted. He used them to trade on the black market for clothes, liquor, and other scarce items. Ingrid’s hollow cheeks filled out. Lothar grew taller and more muscular. Ensi and Guenther no longer cried from hunger, but Ensi did not gain weight and was lethargic. A military doctor
diagnosed her with rickets, a consequence of not having been given enough milk since she’d left Crystal City. What milk the family had found on the journey from the United States had been given to Guenther, who was miraculously healthy, given his birth on the train from Crystal City and the journey into war.
One day a group of GIs asked Johanna if she knew how to make an apple pie. “Oh, yes, I do,” she replied. Soon, the GIs stocked her tiny kitchen with flour, sugar, and Crisco. Suddenly, Johanna, with Ingrid’s help, was in the pie business. “She made pies morning, noon, and night,” recalled Lothar. “Apple pies, cherry, chocolate.”
Next she offered to do laundry for the soldiers. Lothar collected the piles of dirty uniforms and provided soap. Johanna and Ingrid did the washing on old-fashioned washboards. The wash money, plus the pie money, allowed Johanna to buy household items and clothes. She put away whatever money was left to save for passage to America—if and when the Eiserlohs would be allowed to return.
The GIs invented nicknames for Lothar based on the sound of the last four letters of his name. Sometimes he was called Sweat Tar or Road Tar, depending on their moods. He did what they told him and enjoyed himself, and for him, the occupation was a lark. Many of the GIs had German girlfriends. Sometimes Lothar would deliver what the GIs called “Frau bait”—cigarettes, food, and olive-colored US Army blankets—to the girlfriends. The blankets were particularly popular. The women used them to make shirts and skirts. When Lothar delivered the blankets to the women, his nickname was Sweet Tar.
For a boy, this window into the boisterous world of men was an education. He was a wide-eyed innocent with an unpredictable father who was fresh from a German prison cell and with few prospects for future employment. Because of his connection to the GIs, Lothar provided for the family and became his mother’s hero. The GIs were victors, infused with confidence and bright futures, and they bequeathed a healthy self-assurance to Lothar. Many were twenty or thirty years old, no longer freckled-faced boys but triumphant men who’d come into their prime during the war. Some were sensitive by nature and others vainglorious—an entire cast of characters with Lothar as a bit player, the useful kid from Ohio.
The Train to Crystal City: FDR's Secret Prisoner Exchange Page 29