I crafted this letter as if it were written by my maternal grand father from the US to a German family after the end of WWI. My mother said her father would never speak of the war. It was a gruesome war. When I researched where he fought it was at the same place and time where Hahns Hahn died. He was the middle child of Doris (My paternal great great grandmother). The young John Hein would have no reason to know that his future daughter would marry into this family, descendants of the Hahns.
(The top photo is a random German soldier. Though I did meet a second cousin G. Seele who wrote a biography about her grandfather, Hahns Hahn)
How many of our ancestors fought on both sides of wars all over the world. We really have no idea of how we all are connected to each other in some way. Or our descendents will be.
For memorial day I am remembering those fallen on all sides recognizing that we are in some way related to them. Can we pass on the memories of those fallen rather than foster the persistant fears and hatred that wars (
December, 1919
Milwaukee, WI
Please find enclosed a package that I believe belongs to your family. It was under strange and terrifying circumstances that I came into possession of this dear parcel. It has been in my possession since October. Forgive the delay. I did not know what it was and where it should go.
I hesitated opening the package to discover its contents. Before leaving Europe I knew I had to determine the contents and find within an idea of what to do about it. When I opened the leather-wrapped package I discovered within letters and a diary and knew at once it was priceless family treasure. Your address was on the letter that lay on the top; I pray it has arrived at the rightful owner. I assure you, I have not read the personal contents. In fact I cannot read German, but recognized, amongst the letters, some English. Hopefully you can read this.
The circumstances leading to my possession of these precious letters were highly unusual. In fact it is the miracle that helped me make it through the rest of the war. As you can tell by my return address, I am an American. I was a corporal in the US Army stationed in France on the Western Front.
The battle in October was particularly gruesome. As the sky darkened to end a dreary, gripping cold, rainy day the fighting ceased. Our troop marched through the mud into Verdun. Oh the horror of war! Out of the eerie silence that hovered over a sea of bodies, a figure moved before me. There lay a German soldier still alive, though barely.
“Bitte,” he implored with his eyes. Then in English he managed weakly, “Please.” The man had an uncanny resemblance to my father. In that instant I was transformed: seeing in the face of the enemy a fellow man, a friend, a brother. Feebly he patted his chest. Thinking he was grasping for air, I unbuttoned his bloodied uniform. His piercing eyes moved from me to his open jacket. Hidden there, against his breast, the package wrapped tightly in suede. I reached for my flask to offer him a drink, but he was gone.
It is with great sorrow that I write you of Johannes Hahn’s passing from this earth. In the end I did learn his name, as all the letters were addressed to Johannes. After safely delivering the package into my hands, I must tell you, he passed from this earth with a smile of such pure contentment over his face. As water to a dry soul, his transfigured face touched me deeply. The image would become for me a beacon of peace. It was that trusting soul and serene face implanted in my brain that was my anchor through the gruesome battles ahead.
I stuffed the package into my coat and responded to the orders of my Lieutenant. I endured and somehow survived one more month of this hellish war and finally it was over. I do not know why I survived and your Johannes did not. But I am glad that I have finally found a way to safely deliver this collection of treasured family memories.
As for me, hoping I have done some good, I leave my memories behind. I will not speak of it again. Live long in peace.
Sincerely,
John Hein
(The top photo is a random German soldier. Though I did meet a second cousin G. Seele who wrote a biography about her grandfather, Hahns Hahn)
How many of our ancestors fought on both sides of wars all over the world. We really have no idea of how we all are connected to each other in some way. Or our descendents will be.
For memorial day I am remembering those fallen on all sides recognizing that we are in some way related to them. Can we pass on the memories of those fallen rather than foster the persistant fears and hatred that wars (
December, 1919
Milwaukee, WI
Please find enclosed a package that I believe belongs to your family. It was under strange and terrifying circumstances that I came into possession of this dear parcel. It has been in my possession since October. Forgive the delay. I did not know what it was and where it should go.
I hesitated opening the package to discover its contents. Before leaving Europe I knew I had to determine the contents and find within an idea of what to do about it. When I opened the leather-wrapped package I discovered within letters and a diary and knew at once it was priceless family treasure. Your address was on the letter that lay on the top; I pray it has arrived at the rightful owner. I assure you, I have not read the personal contents. In fact I cannot read German, but recognized, amongst the letters, some English. Hopefully you can read this.
The circumstances leading to my possession of these precious letters were highly unusual. In fact it is the miracle that helped me make it through the rest of the war. As you can tell by my return address, I am an American. I was a corporal in the US Army stationed in France on the Western Front.
The battle in October was particularly gruesome. As the sky darkened to end a dreary, gripping cold, rainy day the fighting ceased. Our troop marched through the mud into Verdun. Oh the horror of war! Out of the eerie silence that hovered over a sea of bodies, a figure moved before me. There lay a German soldier still alive, though barely.
“Bitte,” he implored with his eyes. Then in English he managed weakly, “Please.” The man had an uncanny resemblance to my father. In that instant I was transformed: seeing in the face of the enemy a fellow man, a friend, a brother. Feebly he patted his chest. Thinking he was grasping for air, I unbuttoned his bloodied uniform. His piercing eyes moved from me to his open jacket. Hidden there, against his breast, the package wrapped tightly in suede. I reached for my flask to offer him a drink, but he was gone.
It is with great sorrow that I write you of Johannes Hahn’s passing from this earth. In the end I did learn his name, as all the letters were addressed to Johannes. After safely delivering the package into my hands, I must tell you, he passed from this earth with a smile of such pure contentment over his face. As water to a dry soul, his transfigured face touched me deeply. The image would become for me a beacon of peace. It was that trusting soul and serene face implanted in my brain that was my anchor through the gruesome battles ahead.
I stuffed the package into my coat and responded to the orders of my Lieutenant. I endured and somehow survived one more month of this hellish war and finally it was over. I do not know why I survived and your Johannes did not. But I am glad that I have finally found a way to safely deliver this collection of treasured family memories.
As for me, hoping I have done some good, I leave my memories behind. I will not speak of it again. Live long in peace.
Sincerely,
John Hein