Non-Fraternization In Action


As the war was reaching its end in Europe, General Eisenhower issued his famous non-fraternization ban of American and Allied forces with the enemy, present or former. While the political and psychological reasoning for such act is understandable, as was soon proved it was a niave and unenforceable fiat, which ran against the course of human nature. A good example is a personal experience I had in Waltershausen. One of our guard posts was at the railroad station. About 100 yards from the station proper, just off the tracks, was a small cubicle-like office where a clerk was stationed to record freight movements of some sort. The clerk happened to be a very attractive young woman and, of course, the soldiers on guard frequently gravitated to this spot but they couldn't get even a nod from her. This was the time when my high school German really paid off. I can't remember her name but believe I have it somewhere on a picture. She responded to my limited German and, after a few such tours of guard duty, suggested that when she got off work in the afternoon I follow her, but not too closely, to find where she lived. I would then return when curfew began and she would let me in for a "visit". As part of our terrifying and draconian post-war rule (?), all German civilians were under a 7:00pm to 6:00am curfew during which time they were forbidden to be on the streets (the curfew also applied to us unless on duty). I did as instructed and she started walking down the main street at a discrete 50 to 100 yards behind. All went well until she turned off the main street into a residential area full of what we would describe as row houses. As she turned down the street where her home was located, she unfortunately got ahead of me and stepped through her doorway before I could get an exact fix on which one it was, they were all so similar. This presented a problem but my rigid military training and youthful needs for female companionship soon overcame all obstacles.

Just before the curfew, I strolled down the main street, more carefully as 7 pm witching hour approached. Then I cut over to her street but there was no indication which one was her house. As I said the houses were in a row and in the rear, each house had it's own, fenced in, garden space. There was a walkway or alley there, which separated the area from a duplicate row of gardens and houses on the next street. This was repeated through the whole neighborhood. As I walked down the alley in full uniform, of course, and with my carbine slung over my shoulder, many people were working in their gardens. As I approached the approximate area of where I figured she must live, a rather old women (it turned out to be her grandmother) was working in her garden and nodded to me that this was the place but told me not to come in until all her neighbors were in their homes. I guess they were afraid of being caught fraternizing too. It was now well past the curfew and it soon became obvious that the local people were not going to go indoors without some persuasion. I shouted at them in English and German and waved my gun at them but they weren't fooled. They knew what was up. Then, suddenly and scaring the hell out of me, a military police patrol jeep with and officer in it drove rapidly by an intersection of our alley with another about 50 or 100 yards away. You could hear the jeep come to a screeching halt and turn around. With that, Grandma opened the garden gate and rushed me in the rear door. At the same, all the Germans rapidly disappeared into their homes. That jeep must have circled the area for hours before giving up in frustration and I enjoyed every minute of it. Of course, when returning to my quarters late at night, I was very careful feeling like a crook as I sneaked from doorway to doorway. Ah, the thrill of it.

Ruth Beck, Daughter of a Luftwaffe Colonel

Now you might think I am about to describe a scene of lust and, honestly, I wouldn't have necessarily resisted such an outcome but that's not what happened. At first, I was a little uncomfortable in a German home with my carbine slung on a coat hook and her father's picture as a Luftwaffe Colonel proudly displayed on the mantle. But we quickly we entered into a most interesting if puzzling dialogue. It was said, and not without irony, that there were no Nazis in Germany-at least when we got there. As we started to get acquainted I asked her how she and others like her father could have supported a beast like Hitler. To my surprise, she did not deny her feelings and listed the many great things she thought Hitler has done for Germany after their great depression following their defeat in World War l. She listed the events and excuses we are all familiar with, e.g., ending unemployment, providing new hope and direction for the German people, regaining lost provinces and territory, building new schools, the autobahn, etc., etc., and had rejected as propaganda all the terrible things said about him. As I recounted the evil and terrible things the Nazis had done under the leadership of Hitler, she was clearly taken back and unbelieving but when describing what I had actually seen at Ohrdruf she was clearly shaken to the core. We continued our conversations over several visits, accompanied with a bit of what we called necking in my day but she neither encouraged nor did I press for anything further which, in retrospect, I am very proud of. It is comforting to think that I helped her begin to understand and accept what had actually happened and that we both personally took giant steps in learning how to move on in peace and strive for a better world for all mankind. I hope she fared well.

The story of my occupation duty and Waltershausen ends, appropriately, with a doll. The day we were to leave for France, our trucks and cannons were lined up in the road next to the railroad station waiting, as usual, for the word to move out. Suddenly, from her little office cubicle she emerged and walked towards my truck with the whole Battery looking on. She had a doll in her hand, which she presented to me as she kissed me goodbye. The troops went wild and, for the moment at least, I was the most envied soldier around. I am happy to conclude with the observation that no officer made any inquiry. The doll is long-gone; I think I gave it to my mother, but not the memory.

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