History, Books, Chocolate & Winter Coats

Before I get to the chocolate and winter coats, let me set the scene for you with some background. I am not a history buff; however, when it’s come to WWII, I have always been fascinated--and horrified--by it. Having been an English teacher, I had my share of WWII novels I had to teach, like The Diary of Anne Frank, and Night by Elie Wiesel--the latter being harrowing in its tale of a young boy’s experience in a concentration camp. Having had to teach such books, to bring them to life for my students I had to do my share of research on the matter. Although it was depressing subject matter, I enjoyed learning about it very much.

Personally, one of my favorite books on the subject is Corrie Ten Boom’s The Hiding Place, which is the story of how she and her family hid Jews in their home, and because of this were sent to concentration camps as well. Different from the dire hopelessness of Night, hers is laced with the grace and mercy of the God who, in the midst of deepest darkness, extends Light. I highly recommend it.

Thus, over the years, my focus of empathy went to the victims of the atrocity--primarily those that spent time, and often died, in the camps. I had glimpses of their pain and I welcomed it. Until our call to Hamburg in 2005, never had I thought of what the war must have been like for the Germans.

Shortly after our call to Hamburg, I went online to Amazon one day and typed in HAMBURG to see if there were any books that might help us learn of the people and culture, and I came upon this--Inferno: The Fiery Destruction of Hamburg by Keith Lowe. It received stellar reviews and so I ordered it.  As I wrote above, I am no historian. This is a 448 page account of the 1943 bombing, and subsequent firestorm, of Hamburg. This is the book that was used to give me my first dose of compassion for what the German people suffered in the war. The book is excellently written and I could not put the thing down until I finished it. I was left in tears and with a heavy heart for what the people of Hamburg endured.  I was also amazed that I had read a history book in its entirety. It was that good.

Because of the books I’ve read and the movies I’ve seen on WWII--I can’t help but think of the war when I see elderly people here on the streets of Hamburg. I see them on the bus or in line at the market, and my thoughts go here:

What was it like for you?
What is your story?
How have you suffered?
And how, now, do you still live?

That was the background--now let’s shift gears. I want to share how one of these questions was answered for me and how I was taught what I least expected to learn. 

A couple of months ago I was in the waiting room of a doctor’s office. A nice, older man most likely in his late seventies began talking with me when he could tell that I was an American. We got to talking, and he was enjoying using his English that he hadn’t used in years. He asked what we are doing in Germany, and so I told him. When I told him that I work with women in prostitution on the Reeperbahn and also in St. Georg, and also that we are going to start a church in St. Georg, he shared a bit with me from his life.

He knows the area of St. Georg well, especially the square where the women still stand, because that was where he grew up. He was about five years old when his apartment building on the square was bombed and his home was destroyed. Thankfully, he and his mother sought shelter underground and survived. 

He said something like,

I know the ladies you’re talking about. I’ve always called them ladies, not the other word that people use to refer to them. As a kid, I just knew them as the nice ladies who stood on the square at night and gave us chocolate. I had no idea what they did for a living. 

He said during the war food was scarce, but somehow the ladies were given chocolate, and they, in turn, gave it to the local children. This is how he knew them.

I will never forget after the war, we had one of the coldest winters we had ever had up to date. Keep in mind that because of the war, we barely had any clothes. My friends and I ran around in tattered shorts. At that time, the British soldiers were occupying Hamburg. And during that winter, they gave the ladies that worked on the square winter coats. The women, in turn, took the coats, tore out the seams, and made them into clothing for me and my friends. They made us pants.  That’s what I remember when I think of those ladies you work with.

In utter gratefulness, I thanked him for sharing his experience. He acted like it was a small thing to share. And I told him something like,

Most people think that these women are trash and that they have hearts of stone. But your story is the perfect example of what I want people to know: these women are women. They are somebody's daughter, or sister, or mother.  They have hearts. They are loving.  They are compassionate. They love children, and actually, most of them have children of their own.  They're not doing this work because they like it--they're doing it because they have to, for reasons most of us would never understand.  And if you needed something, they would do anything for you.  What these women did for you and your friends during the war is beautiful.  THANK YOU for sharing. 

Little did I know that in a Hamburg doctor’s office that my knowledge of WWII would continue to be expanded--and this time not learning of the victims, or the German people in general, but of the women that I love and serve. History has never been so thrilling.

German History. Books. Chocolate. And Winter Coats