When American doctors saved Germans first! They had performed surgeries on enemy prisoners of war

The Healing Hands of War

December 12th, 1943. Fort Riley, Kansas. Captain James Westfield stood at the threshold of operating room 3, his mind whirling with disbelief as his eyes scanned the scene before him. The smell of antiseptic, the soft hum of the machines, and the bustle of the operating room were all familiar sounds. Yet, there was something utterly foreign about this moment. There, on the operating table, was a German prisoner of war—Luitenant Carl Müller of the Africa Corps—who lay under the care of American doctors.

What made this scene so perplexing was the simple fact that Müller was receiving a blood transfusion from an American donor. Westfield, having dedicated 20 years to his medical training, had expected a battlefield doctor’s life to be filled with brutal decisions. It was hard enough dealing with wounds, trauma, and death among the American soldiers, but now, here was this man—an enemy combatant—who had fought against America and its allies, lying in the very same room as his own comrades, receiving treatment meant for one of their own.

A cold hand of hesitation gripped Westfield’s chest, and he found himself rooted to the floor. The tension was palpable. But then Major William Thornton, the Chief Surgeon of the unit, gently nudged him forward, offering a quiet reassurance that went against the grain of wartime sentiments.

“We operate on the basis of medical necessity, not nationality,” Thornton explained, looking at Westfield with the calm demeanor of a seasoned surgeon. “Müller’s wound is life-threatening; he must be treated immediately. The American soldiers in the next room are stable, and their injuries can wait.”

Westfield couldn’t help but feel the weight of those words. Was this really happening? Was this the same America that, for years, the German propaganda machine had painted as a crumbling, decadent nation? Was this truly the same enemy that had been described to him as a weak and morally corrupt society, one that would collapse under the weight of its own indulgence?

But here, in this sterile room, there were no signs of collapse. No lack of resources. No famine. Instead, there was precision, care, and an abundance of medical supplies that far outstripped the conditions back in Germany. What was unfolding before his eyes was a stark contradiction to everything he had been taught about the “enemy.”

As Westfield scrubbed in and stood by as Müller was prepped for surgery, he couldn’t ignore the jarring contrast between the situation he was witnessing and the propaganda that had shaped his worldview. American military doctors were using the latest techniques, including antibiotics and state-of-the-art surgical tools, which were foreign to him. It was not just the availability of resources that stood out but the fact that the Americans seemed almost indifferent to the nationality of the patient in front of them. The quality of care was the same for every soldier, no matter their allegiance.

Over the next few months, this clash of ideologies would only grow more pronounced. With each passing day, as the German prisoners were admitted to more American facilities, the men and women who had been part of the Nazi war machine began to experience firsthand what America was truly like, not the shadowy figure of their propaganda, but the generous, efficient, and technologically advanced nation that had taken them captive.

By 1945, approximately 371,000 German prisoners of war were being held in the United States across 700 camps in 46 states. Many of them had initially arrived with distrust in their hearts and a belief that they were about to be subjected to inhumane conditions. But instead of the starvation and brutality they had been warned about, they were met with clean facilities, warm beds, ample food, and the most sophisticated medical care they had ever encountered.

They had been told by their government that America’s medical system was primitive, incapable of providing the care needed to treat serious wounds. But now, as they lay in American hospital beds, they realized the falsehoods they had been fed. By the time they had been in captivity for just a few months, many of them had gained 10-15 pounds due to the superior nutrition they received. What was once a shocking reality was now undeniable. America’s ability to produce food in vast quantities seemed miraculous to men who had suffered the ravages of war and rationing in their homeland.

One of the most poignant moments of realization came for Carl Müller, who, after being treated for a life-threatening injury, wrote in a letter home that the care he received in America was beyond anything he could have imagined. He had been told that America was a land of scarcity, that its people were poor and struggling. But as he lay in an American recovery ward, surrounded by medical technology that seemed almost magical, he knew he had been lied to. The resources at the disposal of American doctors were staggering, and the idea that a country that could offer this level of care in wartime could be on the brink of collapse seemed absurd. In fact, Müller concluded, the opposite was true. America was thriving, not just in terms of military power, but in terms of industrial capability and humanitarian care.

But this realization was not just about medical advancements. As the prisoners interacted with their American captors, they began to see an entirely different side to the United States—one that defied the racist, militaristic image painted by Nazi propaganda. Many of the American soldiers they encountered were African-American, a fact that had been distorted by the propaganda they had been taught. Yet, here they were, working side by side with white soldiers, treating German prisoners with the same respect and professionalism, and in many cases, displaying more compassion than any Nazi officer had shown them.

One of the most surprising revelations came from German soldiers who had been involved in combat on the Eastern Front. They had been raised to believe in the superiority of their military training and medical capabilities, but as they worked alongside American doctors and nurses, they realized the extent to which American systems had surpassed their own. Many German prisoners, particularly medical officers, started to ask questions about the American medical system, trying to understand how such an advanced infrastructure was possible during wartime. For these men, the truth was inescapable. The Americans had found a way to deliver quality care with unmatched efficiency, even in the midst of global conflict.

The cumulative effect of these revelations was profound. The prisoners who had been brought to the United States with hearts full of hate and fear for their captors slowly began to change. Some, like Carl Müller, began to accept the truth of American capabilities, and others, like Freda Schultz, a 26-year-old former administrator, became dedicated to understanding how this “miracle” was happening. She worked alongside American medical personnel, learning about the techniques and organizational methods that made such abundance possible. She later went on to become an advocate for industrialization and modernization in post-war Germany.

The transformation didn’t happen overnight, but over the course of several months, the German prisoners came to understand a reality that was far removed from the ideological narratives they had been taught. They saw firsthand that America’s industrial power was not a myth—it was real, and it was the key to their survival. It was a truth that would change their worldview, their future, and the relationship between their two countries.

In the post-war years, many of these former prisoners would return to Germany, but they did so with a different understanding of the world. They became ambassadors for American ideals, quietly sharing their experiences and helping to rebuild Germany with a new outlook on what could be achieved through industry, innovation, and cooperation. It was not just their medical care that had transformed them—it was the sheer scale of what America had achieved in wartime production that left an indelible mark.

For many of these men, the memories of their time as prisoners of war in America would linger long after the war ended. But it wasn’t just the superior medical care they remembered. It was the kindness, the humanity, and the generosity of a country that had every reason to treat them as enemies but instead chose to treat them as human beings. The lessons they learned in the United States would reverberate through their lives and careers, shaping the future of both Germany and America for decades to come.

And as the years passed, the story of how American doctors had defied the very principles of wartime enmity to treat their enemies with compassion would serve as a powerful reminder of the true strength of the American spirit—one that transcended national boundaries, ideologies, and even the most bitter of wars. The story of these German prisoners, their gradual realization, and their eventual acceptance of American values serves as one of the most profound lessons of World War II: that even in the darkest times, humanity can still shine through.

Note: Some content was generated using AI tools (ChatGPT) and edited by the author for creativity and suitability for historical illustration purposes.