This was in the morning paper ---
(yes, I know, he is wearing an NCO's parade tunic and he is holding P--38)
First Person: War tales shared are never lost
<!-- begin creation date -->Saturday, August 21, 2010 07:23 AM
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The Columbus Dispatch
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<!-- /ptr -->First Person is a weekly forum for personal musings and reflections from readers.
Only an impostor could smile in the uniform of a World War II German officer.
A 1945 photograph depicts my future husband doing just that.
After I married Sidney in 1979, I found the picture one day and confronted him about it.
As it turned out, he had good reason to smile.
Here's the explanation, as he told me: ... I was 19 when I found myself hovering in a ditch somewhere in Belgium - a U.S. Army soldier, a private first class, surrounded by gunfire. Many soldiers, both German and American, were already dead on the ground. Everyone else was running for his life.
Our troops were close to invading Germany from all directions along the borders, with my group approaching from the north under heavy artillery fire.
The front-line infantry soldiers had to make quick life-or-death decisions.
I jumped into a nearby ditch, landing next to a dead German officer. Soon I realized that, if I ripped off the officer's uniform, took his pistol (a Luger in a black leather case) and saber, and put his uniform over mine, I had nothing to lose.
As I lay in the ditch with the uniform on, I watched my squadron advancing more quickly than I expected. So I jumped up from the ditch, tore off the outer jacket and threw the German helmet to the ground.
"Don't shoot!" I yelled to my countrymen at the top of my lungs. "I am one of yours!"
The retreating Germans responded with crossfire, but, by the next morning, the American troops had already advanced to the German city of Aachen, with reinforcements following them.
I kept the German uniform and had the photo taken shortly after we defeated Germany.
I smiled because I was young and alive. I had survived.
His story is one of many untold scenarios dating from that period of history.
In 1945, the last German defense was carried out by old civilians and young German males, when the first U.S. troops crossed the Rhine River under Gen. George S. Patton into Cologne - where I lived then.
German soldiers had long since retreated, been killed or been taken prisoner by Americans.
Many years later, I met Sidney in Philadelphia - long after my postwar marriage had ended.
In 2000, I lost my brave husband to Parkinson's disease.
His testimony is one of many reflecting how World War II became the history lesson of our time.
Had the impostor not disguised himself in a quick decision, the story behind the story would never have been told.
Ingrid Silvian, 80, of Groveport is doing her part to archive such wartime stories for future generations.
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<!--/td-->
(yes, I know, he is wearing an NCO's parade tunic and he is holding P--38)
First Person: War tales shared are never lost
<!-- begin creation date -->Saturday, August 21, 2010 07:23 AM
<!-- end creation date -->
The Columbus Dispatch
<!-- aligning image and caption-->
<!-- /freeform -->
<!-- /ptr -->First Person is a weekly forum for personal musings and reflections from readers.
Only an impostor could smile in the uniform of a World War II German officer.
A 1945 photograph depicts my future husband doing just that.
After I married Sidney in 1979, I found the picture one day and confronted him about it.
As it turned out, he had good reason to smile.
Here's the explanation, as he told me: ... I was 19 when I found myself hovering in a ditch somewhere in Belgium - a U.S. Army soldier, a private first class, surrounded by gunfire. Many soldiers, both German and American, were already dead on the ground. Everyone else was running for his life.
Our troops were close to invading Germany from all directions along the borders, with my group approaching from the north under heavy artillery fire.
The front-line infantry soldiers had to make quick life-or-death decisions.
I jumped into a nearby ditch, landing next to a dead German officer. Soon I realized that, if I ripped off the officer's uniform, took his pistol (a Luger in a black leather case) and saber, and put his uniform over mine, I had nothing to lose.
As I lay in the ditch with the uniform on, I watched my squadron advancing more quickly than I expected. So I jumped up from the ditch, tore off the outer jacket and threw the German helmet to the ground.
"Don't shoot!" I yelled to my countrymen at the top of my lungs. "I am one of yours!"
The retreating Germans responded with crossfire, but, by the next morning, the American troops had already advanced to the German city of Aachen, with reinforcements following them.
I kept the German uniform and had the photo taken shortly after we defeated Germany.
I smiled because I was young and alive. I had survived.
His story is one of many untold scenarios dating from that period of history.
In 1945, the last German defense was carried out by old civilians and young German males, when the first U.S. troops crossed the Rhine River under Gen. George S. Patton into Cologne - where I lived then.
German soldiers had long since retreated, been killed or been taken prisoner by Americans.
Many years later, I met Sidney in Philadelphia - long after my postwar marriage had ended.
In 2000, I lost my brave husband to Parkinson's disease.
His testimony is one of many reflecting how World War II became the history lesson of our time.
Had the impostor not disguised himself in a quick decision, the story behind the story would never have been told.
Ingrid Silvian, 80, of Groveport is doing her part to archive such wartime stories for future generations.
<!-- /body --><!-- Story (end) -->
<!--/td-->
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