Are We In The Wrong Country?”—German Women POW Shocked That Canadian Villagers Spoke German Fluently

April 1943, the hot North African sun beat down on three German women standing in a British interrogation tent near the ruins of Bizerte, Tunisia. Greta Hoffman pressed close to Leisel Bower and Margaretta Schneider, her hand shaking. A British officer walked past them, speaking to another soldier. The words coming from his mouth made Greta’s heart stop. He was speaking perfect German, not broken German, not German with an accent. Perfect German like he grew up in Hamburgg, just like she did.

Greta grabbed Leisel’s arm and whispered, “Did you hear that? Are we in the wrong country?” The younger woman’s eyes went wide with confusion. Even Magda, who always stayed calm, looked troubled. They had been captured by the British three days ago. Everything they knew told them the British spoke English, not German. Something was very wrong. Or maybe something was very different from what they had been told. The spring of 1943 brought disaster to German forces in North Africa.

After months of fighting in the desert, Raml’s Africa finally collapsed. The British and American armies closed in from all sides. In early May, approximately 130,000 Axis soldiers surrendered in Tunisia. Among them were 847 German women who served with the Luftvafa, the German Air Force. These women worked as radio operators, cipher clerks, and signals personnel. They were not fighters, but they wore uniforms and served their country. Greta Hoffman was 24 years old and came from Hamburgg, a big port city in northern Germany.

Her father owned a small shop selling imported goods before the war. She grew up middle class, comfortable, and believed in the cause. Two years ago, she joined the Luftwaffa signals corps to do her part. She worked as a radio operator, sending and receiving coded messages. Back home, her fianceé served on a yubot somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean. She had not heard from him in eight months. Every night she wondered if he was still alive. Leisel Bower was only 19 and came from a tiny farming village in Bavaria in the mountains of southern Germany.

Her family grew wheat and potatoes on their small farm. When the war started, there was no work in her village. All the young men left to fight. Leisel joined the Luftvafa because she needed to eat and wanted to help Germany win. She worked as a cipher clerk, turning coded messages into readable German. She wrote letters to her mother every single week telling her about the warm weather and the sand that got into everything. Margarite Schneider, who everyone called Magda, was 31 years old and came from Berlin, the capital city.

She went to university, which was rare for a woman in Germany. She spoke three languages and understood how the world worked. Magda joined the signals corps early in the war and became a senior officer. She was smart enough to see through some of the propaganda, but she kept her doubts quiet. Speaking against the government could get you killed. For months, these three women and 844 others served at a signal station in Tunisia. They lived in tents. They ate dry bread and thin soup.

They sent messages about troop movements and supply lines. They watched the war turn bad. German soldiers started retreating. Supplies stopped coming. Then the British and American tanks appeared on the horizon. The German commanders told them what to expect if they were captured. The propaganda was clear and terrifying. The British would execute women prisoners or force them into hard labor, or worse things that the officers would not say out loud, but everyone understood. They were taught to destroy all their equipment and fight to the death rather than surrender.

Being a woman in enemy hands meant certain horror. At least that is what they were told. That same day, near the coastal city of Bizerde, their signal unit was abandoned. The German army retreated so fast they left the women behind. British tanks rolled into their camp at dawn. The women had no weapons. They had no way to escape. They raised white flags made from bed sheets. 847 women stood together in the morning sun waiting to see if the propaganda was true.

The British soldiers were professional. They searched the camp but did not harm anyone. They gathered all 847 women in the center of the camp. A British officer stood on a truck and spoke through a loudspeaker. His English was translated by another soldier. They were prisoners of war now. They would be processed and transported. They would be shipped across the Atlantic Ocean. That was all they were told. Greta felt her stomach drop. across the Atlantic meant America or Canada.

That meant thousands of miles from home. That meant months or years before seeing Germany again, if ever. Leisel started crying quietly. Magda put her arm around the younger woman, but said nothing. Her face stayed blank, but her mind was racing. Where were they really going? What would happen to them? The women were loaded into trucks and driven to a larger British camp. They were given numbers and processed like cargo. They stood in long lines under the hot sun.

British soldiers checked their names against lists. Medical officers looked them over for diseases. They were deli clean clothes. The British were efficient and cold, but not cruel. Nobody hit them. Nobody threatened them. This confused Greta. Where was the torture? Where was the violence they had been promised? At night, the 847 women were locked in a large warehouse. They had blankets and water. Some women cried, others prayed. A few argued that this was just the beginning, that the real horror would come later.

Greta lay on her blanket and thought about her fianceé. She wondered if he knew she had been captured. She wondered if he was eating better than she was. She wondered if she would ever see him again. Magda sat with her back against the wall and watched the other women. She was thinking about the German officer who told them the British would kill them. She was thinking about the British soldiers who gave them water and blankets. She was thinking about the propaganda and the reality.

They did not match, not even a little bit. This thought scared her more than anything else. If the propaganda was wrong about this, what else was it wrong about? The women spent 3 weeks in the British camp. Then came the announcement. They would board ships bound for Canada. 847 women would cross the ocean to a place none of them had ever seen, a place they knew nothing about except what the propaganda told them. And after what Greta heard that British officer speaking in the tent, after hearing perfect German from enemy lips, she was starting to wonder if anything they had been told was true.

The women faced the unknown. They did not know what came next. But they were about to discover that sometimes your enemies know your language better than you know the truth. May 1943, the British loaded all 847 German women onto a massive ship called the HMS Empress of Canada. The ship was huge, bigger than any building Greta had ever seen. It was a passenger liner before the war, built to carry rich people across the ocean in comfort. Now it carried prisoners.

Along with the women, 2,400 German male soldiers were also on board. The men were kept on different decks. The women would not see them during the voyage. Greta, Leisel, and Magda walked down a metal stairway into the ship. They expected to be thrown into cargo holds. They expected darkness and chains. Instead, British sailors led them to small passenger cabins, real rooms with beds, not straw on the floor, not hammocks, actual beds with mattresses. Leisel touched the bed like she thought it might disappear.

She had been sleeping on dirt and sand for 6 months. This mattress felt like a cloud. Each cabin had four beds. Clean white sheets sat folded on each mattress. Greta picked up a sheet and smelled it. It smelled like soap. Real soap, not the harsh lie soap they had in Tunisia. The cabin even had a small sink with running water. Cold water, but clean. She turned the tap and watched clear water pour out. In the desert, water came in rusty containers and tasted like metal.

This water looked pure. The ship left port on May 28th, 1943. The engine rumbled deep below their feet. Greta stood on the deck and watched the African coast disappear. She did not know if she would ever see Europe again. Beside her, Leisel was crying quietly. Magda stood with her arms crossed, watching the ocean with careful eyes. She was always watching, always thinking. That first evening, British sailors came to the cabins and told the women to follow them to the dining area.

The women walked in silence through narrow hallways. They entered a large room with tables and chairs. The smell hit them first. Bread. Fresh bread baking. Greta’s stomach growled so loud that Leisel heard it and almost laughed. When was the last time any of them smelled bread that was not mixed with sawdust to stretch the flour? British sailors served them dinner on metal trays. Greta stared at her tray and counted everything on it. Two slices of white bread with real butter.

A cup of coffee that smelled like actual coffee beans, not the roasted grain substitute they drank in Germany. A piece of fish with boiled potatoes. A small bowl of canned peaches. She picked up the bread and touched the butter. It was yellow and soft. Real butter. She had not seen real butter in over a year. Leisel ate slowly like she was afraid the food would be taken away. she whispered to Greta. This is better than what we ate in Tunisia for months.

Greta nodded. It was better than what German soldiers ate anywhere. The propaganda said the British were starving because of German yubot. These people did not look like they were starving. The next morning brought another surprise. Breakfast. Three meals a day every day. Breakfast was porridge with milk and sugar, bread with jam and tea. Greta wrote in her small diary that she kept hidden in her dress pocket. She wrote the date and then the words, “They give us more food than our own army gave us.” Why?

During the day, the women were allowed on certain parts of the deck for fresh air. Magda noticed things. She always noticed things. She watched the British guards walking past. Their boots were leather, well-made, with thick soles. No cardboard, no holes. German soldiers in Tunisia wore boots held together with wire because there were no replacement parts. These enemy guards had better equipment than German officers. On the third day of the voyage, a British medical officer came to examine all the women.

He was an older man with gray hair and kind eyes. He checked each woman for diseases and injuries. He gave them vitamin pills in small paper cups. Vitamin pills. Greta almost laughed. The German army could not get vitamins for soldiers dying of malnutrition in Russia, but the British gave vitamins to prisoners. She swallowed the pill and wondered what kind of war this was. The ship sailed for 3 weeks. Every day, three meals. Every night, clean beds. The British guards were firm, but never cruel.

They did not touch the women. They did not threaten them. They just watched and made sure nobody tried to escape. Where would they escape to in the middle of the ocean, Leisel heard two British guards talking one evening. They were complaining about the food. One guard said the rations were boring. The same thing every day. Boring. Leisel wanted to scream. She was eating better on this prison ship than she had eaten in a year, and these men called it boring.

She lay in her bed that night and tried to understand. How rich was this country that guards complained about good food. Magda sat with Greta one afternoon on the deck. The ocean stretched in every direction, blue and endless. Magda said quietly, “They treat us like humans. The propaganda said they would treat us like animals. Which one is the lie? Greta had no answer. She was starting to think everything might be a lie. On June 19th, 1943, the ship reached Halifax, Canada.

The women were told to gather their few belongings. They were led off the ship onto a dock. Canada, a new world. The dock was busy with people and trucks and activity. Everything looked organized and clean. No bomb damage, no ruins. It looked like war had never touched this place. British and Canadian soldiers loaded the women onto trains. The Canadian Pacific Railway, long passenger trains with windows. The women climbed aboard and found seats, real seats with cushions. Through the windows, Greta could see the city of Halifax.

Buildings stood tall and whole. Shops had goods in the windows. People walked the streets in clean clothes. Nobody looked hungry. Nobody looked scared. The train started moving west. For days they traveled across Canada. Greta pressed her face to the window and could not believe what she saw. Forests that went on forever. Farmland so huge it made her dizzy. Towns and cities that had no bomb damage at all. At night, lights blazed in every window. No blackouts, no fear of bombers.

Leisel whispered, “They are not even afraid. The war has not touched them.” Every station they passed had shops full of goods. People stood on platforms looking well-fed and healthy. Magda watched everything and said nothing. But Greta saw her writing in a small notebook. Magda was keeping track. She was counting and measuring and thinking. Something was very wrong with what they had been taught. Or something was very right with this strange country that spoke English and fed its enemies better than Germany fed its soldiers.

June 22nd, 1943. The train slowed down in the late afternoon. Greta looked out the window and saw a small station ahead. The other women started gathering their belongings, thinking this might be their final stop. The train hissed and squealled as it came to a halt. Through the window, Greta could see a wooden sign hanging above the platform. She read it out loud. Kitchener, Ontario. The doors opened and Canadian guards told them to step out onto the platform.

All 847 women climbed down from the train cars, blinking in the bright June sunshine. The air smelled different here, fresh green, like grass and trees and growing things. A man in a neat uniform walked toward them. He looked like a station master. He stopped in front of the group and opened his mouth to speak. We’ll come in in Kitchener Funima. Welcome to Kitchener. Please follow me in German. Perfect German. The same German Greta’s grandmother spoke in Hamburgg.

Every single woman froze. 847 women stood completely still, staring at this Canadian man speaking their language. Leisel grabbed Greta’s arm so hard it hurt. She whispered, “Is this a trick? A test? Are they trying to catch us saying something? Magda’s eyes went sharp. She listened carefully to how the man spoke. She turned to Greta and said quietly, “That is a Bavarian accent from southern Germany, not someone who learned German in school. He grew up speaking it.” More people appeared on the platform.

Local civilians coming to watch the prisoners arrive. Two women stood near a bench talking to each other. They spoke German. Then one of them turned to a man and switched to English. Back and forth. German and English mixing together like it was the most normal thing in the world. An older man walked past pushing a cart. He was humming a song. Greta recognized it. A folk song from the Ry Valley. Her father used to sing it. This Canadian man was humming a German song while he worked.

Leisel looked at Greta with wide, frightened eyes. Are we in the wrong country? Did the ship take us to Germany by mistake? But that made no sense. The signs were in English. The flags were Canadian. They were definitely in Canada. So why did everyone speak German? The station master led them down the main street. Greta looked at everything as they walked. A newspaper stand on the corner had papers in two languages. She could read the German one.

De Canadisha Bowern Freint, the Canadian farmer’s friend, a German newspaper in Canada. Her head started to hurt from trying to understand. They passed a church. The sign out front had words in English and German both. Sunday service 10:00 a.m. in English. Sag’s Goddess Deans tenure in German. The same information, two languages, like both were equally normal here. Street signs caught her eye. Frederick Street, Gal Street, Wilhelm Street, German names on Canadian streets. Magda noticed, too. She said nothing, but Greta saw her writing in that small notebook again.

The guards led all 847 women to a large brick building. The station master explained in German that this was St. Jerome’s College, a Catholic school. The students were gone for summer, so the women would stay here. A priest came out to greet them. He was an old man with white hair and a kind face. He spoke to them in German with a Suabian accent, the same accent Leisel’s grandmother had back in Bavaria. Leisel started crying, not from fear, from confusion.

Nothing made sense anymore. The priest patted her shoulder and said in German, “You are safe here, child. No harm will come to you.” Inside the building, Canadian women showed them to large rooms with beds. Real beds with mattresses, not straw, not blankets on the floor, mattresses with springs and sheets and pillows. Greta sat on a bed, and it was soft. She had slept on hard ground for so long that soft felt strange. A Canadian woman showed them the bathroom.

She turned on a tap and steam rose from the water. Hot water. Running hot water. Leisel touched the stream and jerked her hand back. It was actually hot. The woman smiled and said in German, “First hot shower in a while. Yes, take your time. We have plenty of hot water.” That evening they were led to a huge dining hall. The room could seat 900 people easily. Long tables stretched in rows. The smell of cooking food made Greta’s mouth water.

Real food. Meat cooking. Bread baking. Butter melting. Canadian women in aprons brought out plates of food. Greta looked at her plate and could not breathe for a moment. Roast beef. A thick slice of actual beef. mashed potatoes with gravy, carrots, two slices of white bread with real yellow butter, a glass of milk, a piece of apple pie for dessert. She picked up her fork and cut the meat. She counted while she ate. The piece of beef on her plate weighed about 427 g.

She knew because she used to help her father weigh goods in his shop before the war. 427 gram of meat. Vermach rations in Africa were 200 grams of meat per week per week. She was eating more than twice a week’s ration in one meal. Leisel ate her pie slowly, making each bite last. She had not tasted real apples in over a year. The apples were sweet, and the crust was made with real butter. She could taste it.

At the next table, two local women were talking. Greta heard them complaining in German about rationing. One woman said, “Only 450 grams of meat this week. How am I supposed to feed my family?” The other woman agreed. They were upset about 450 g. Greta wanted to laugh or cry or scream. German civilians back home got 250 g per week if they were lucky. These Canadian women were complaining about getting more meat than Germans ever saw. That night, lying in a real bed under clean sheets, Greta tried to make sense of everything.

This must be a special camp, she thought. For propaganda, to make them think Canada was rich and wonderful. This could not be real. This could not be normal life here. It had to be fake. It had to be. But Magda sat on her bed writing in her notebook. She was not saying much, but Greta could see her mind working. Magda was adding things up, counting, measuring, thinking. Leisel just stared at the ceiling. She was too overwhelmed to even process what was happening.

Everything she thought she knew about the enemy was wrong. Everything. And that was more terrifying than any torture could have been. Because if this was wrong, what else was a lie? July 1943, the Canadian authorities decided that the German women prisoners would work. Under the Geneva Convention, prisoners of war could be assigned to work as long as it was not war work. No making weapons, no building military things, but farm work was allowed, factory work was allowed, and Canada needed workers because so many Canadian men had gone overseas to fight.

Greta and Leisel were assigned to work at a meat processing plant in Kitchener. The name of the company was Schneider Meats. When Leisel heard the name, she laughed for the first time in months. Schneider was a common German name. Even the businesses here had German names. Magda was assigned to work at the local hospital as a translator. Because she spoke three languages and was educated, they needed her to help German speaking. Patients talked to English-speaking doctors. The hospital was happy to have her.

Canadian veterans guards watched over the prisoners. These guards were mostly older men who had fought in the First World War. They were too old now to go fight in this new war, so they guarded prisoners instead. Many of these guards were also of German descent. Their grandparents came from Germany 50 or 60 years ago. They spoke some German words they learned from their parents. On her first day at Schneider Meets, Greta walked into the processing plant and stopped.

The building was huge. Metal machines lined the walls. Electric refrigerators kept the meat cold. Everything was modern and clean. She had worked in a factory in Hamburg before the war. That factory had old equipment that broke down constantly. They never had spare parts to fix anything. This Canadian factory looked like it came from the future. A woman walked up to Greta and spoke in German. You must be one of the new workers. I am Framitt. I will show you what to do.

Fra Schmidt was about 50 years old with gray hair and strong hands. She spoke German with a Hamburgg accent, the same accent Greta had. Greta could not help herself. she asked. You are from Hamburg? Framidt smiled. My grandparents were from Hamburg. They came to Canada in 1870. I was born here, but my grandmother taught me to speak proper Hamburg German. She said I should never forget where we came from. They worked side by side cutting and packaging meat.

The plant processed 2,000 hogs every week. 2,000. Greta tried to imagine that much meat. In Hamburg, people waited in lines for hours to get a small piece of pork. Here, mountains of meat moved through the factory every single day. During their morning break, the workers could eat sausages, free sausages, as much as they wanted. Greta watched Canadian workers grab sausages and eat them like it was nothing special. She took one small sausage and ate it slowly. It tasted like real meat with real spices.

Not the mystery meat mixed with breadcrumbs they got in Germany. At lunch, Fra Schmidt sat with Greta and opened a letter. From my cousin in Hamburg, she explained. She writes me about the situation there. Fra Schmidt’s face grew sad as she read. She says they are starving. No meat, no butter, barely any bread. The bombing is constant. She looked at Greta. You are from Hamburg, too. Greta nodded. She felt tears starting but pushed them back. Fra Schmidt reached across and touched her hand.

Your family. I do not know, Greta whispered. No letters for months. Framid squeezed her hand. I pray for them. I pray for all of them. Greta looked at this woman. Same German heritage, same language, same city roots, but Framidt lived in abundance while her cousin starved. The only difference was which side of the ocean their grandparents chose. Meanwhile, Leisel was sent to live and work on a farm outside town. The family name was Bower. Same as her last name.

Coincidence, but it made Leisel smile. The Bower family owned 160 acres of land, 160 acres. Leisel’s family farm in Bavaria was 40 acres and people called it a large farm. This Canadian farm was four times bigger. The Bower family had two automobiles. Two, one for work and one for Sunday drives. They had electric milking machines in the barn. They had a radio in the living room. They had a telephone on the wall. Leisel stared at these things like they were magic.

Mr. Bower was kind but serious. His three sons were all overseas fighting with the Canadian army. His wife, Mrs. Bower, spoke German with a Bavarian accent because her parents came from Bavaria. She treated Lezel like a guest, not a prisoner. She gave her a clean room with a real bed. She fed her the same food the family ate. On Sunday, Mrs. Bower invited Leisel to join them for dinner. Roast chicken, potatoes with butter, fresh vegetables from the garden, an apple cake for dessert, real sugar in the cake, real eggs, real everything.

Leisel ate carefully, trying not to look like she was starving, even though part of her still felt hungry all the time. Mrs. Bower noticed. She put more food on Leisel’s plate. Eat, child. You are too thin. We have plenty. Plenty. That word rang in Leisel’s head. They had plenty while their sons fought a war. Her family had nothing while her brother fought the same war from the other side. How could this be? At the hospital, Magda worked with doctors and nurses.

She translated for old German-speaking patients who never learned English. Well, one day she was translating for an elderly woman who needed surgery. The woman’s chart said she had three sons. All three served in the Canadian Army. All three were fighting against Germany right now. Magda had to ask, “Your sons fight for Canada, but you speak German at home?” The old woman looked at her with tired eyes. We speak German because it is our language. We are Canadian because this is our country.

You can be both. We are not fighting for Germany. We are fighting against the Nazis. Magda felt something crack inside her. You can be German and still be free. You can love your language and culture without loving the government. This idea was new. In Germany, loving your culture meant loving the Nazi party. They were the same thing, but here they were separate. At night, the women gathered back at St. Jerome’s College in their dormatory rooms. They talked quietly about what they saw during the day.

Greta told them about the meat factory. They waste more meat in trimmings than we see in a month. The workers snack on sausages during breaks. Sausages like it is nothing. Leisel talked about the Bower Farm. They have two cars, two and electric machines, and a telephone. My family in Bavaria does not even have electricity in the barn yet. Another woman named Anna worked at a furniture factory. The machines never break down because they have spare parts for everything.

Everything. When something breaks, they fix it the same day. In Germany, we waited months for parts that never came. Some of the younger women started crying. One girl said, “My brother is in Russia eating frozen bread and fighting with broken rifles.” Why? Why are we so poor and they are so rich? Magda spoke up quietly. Because they are not spending everything on war. They send men to fight, yes, but their economy still works. Their people still eat.

They built a country that can afford to fight and still take care of home. An older woman named Hilda got angry. This is propaganda. They are trying to break us. This is all fake. But Greta shook her head. It is not fake. The German families here get letters from Germany. Real letters from their relatives. Everyone there is starving while everyone here complains about rationing that gives them more food than German soldiers get. The women wrote letters home when they were allowed, but the Canadian authorities read every letter before sending it.

Nothing sensitive could be said. Leisel wrote to her mother, “The work is not hard. The food is good. I am healthy.” What she wanted to write was, “Everything they told us was a lie. The enemy lives better than we ever did. We are on the wrong side.” Greta wrote letters to her fianceé that she knew would never be sent. She wrote them anyway. She wrote, “Please surrender if you get the chance. These people will not kill you.

They will feed you better than the Navy feeds you. They will treat you like a human. Please just survive.” By August 1943, the evidence had piled so high that even the true believers struggled to deny it. Every Sunday, German, Protestant, and Catholic church services happened in town. German language radio programs came from Toronto. Local German families donated books and magazines to the prisoners. Some women received care packages from German Canadian families they had never met. Just kindness from strangers who shared their language.

The guards themselves confused everything. Many guards had German last names. They spoke bits of German learned from parents. They were polite and fair. They never hit anyone, never threatened anyone. They just did their job. One evening, Magda sat writing in her notebook. She had been counting and tracking everything for 2 months. She looked at Greta and said, “I have a question. If this is how they treat enemies, how do they treat friends?” Greta had no answer. None of them did.

They just knew that everything they believed was crumbling, and the truth rising up to replace it was harder to accept than any lie they had been told. September 1943, the German Canadian community in Kitchener had a tradition. Every autumn they held Oktoberfest, a celebration of German culture with music and food and dancing. When the war started, they stopped holding the festival. It felt wrong to celebrate German culture while Canada fought Germany. But in September 1943, the community leaders made a decision.

They would hold a small private October Fest and they would invite the German prisoners to join them. The Canadian authorities agreed. Under guard supervision, all 847 German women could attend an evening celebration at the Concordia Club, the German social club in town. When the women heard about this, they did not know what to think. A party for prisoners? Nothing made sense anymore. September 24th, 1943. The guards loaded the women onto trucks and drove them to the Concordia Club.

It was a large brick building with flags hanging outside. Inside, the hall was decorated with autumn leaves and German folk art. Long tables were set up with white tablecloths. A small band was setting up instruments in the corner. Accordion, violin, and drums. Greta walked into the hall and stopped breathing for a moment. The smell. Oh god, the smell. Schnitle frying in butter. Sauerkraut cooking with bacon. Potato dumplings boiling in big pots. Apple strudel baking in the oven.

The smells of home. The smells of her grandmother’s kitchen in Hamburgg. She had not smelled these foods in over 2 years. Her eyes filled with tears before she could stop them. 300 German Canadian civilians filled the hall. old people, middle-aged people, young women whose husbands and brothers were overseas fighting. Everyone was dressed nicely. The women wore their good dresses. The men wore clean shirts and ties. 50 Canadian guards stood around the edges of the room, watching but not interfering.

The food was laid out on long tables. Greta saw platters of breaded schnitle, still hot and crispy. Bowls of red cabbage cooked with apples. Mountains of potato dumplings with butter melting on top. Sauerkraut mixed with bacon pieces. Rye bread sliced thick. An apple strudel, golden brown and dusted with sugar. Real food. German food. Food she thought she would never taste again. The organizers allowed each woman one small glass of German beer. Not much, but real German beer brewed right here in Kitchener.

Leisel took a sip and started crying. It tasted exactly like the beer from her village in Bavaria. Exactly the same. The band started playing. Traditional German folk songs. Songs about mountains and rivers and home. Songs Greta’s father used to sing. Songs Leisel’s mother hummed while cooking. songs that Magda learned as a child in Berlin. Every woman in the room knew these songs, every single one. An elderly man walked across the hall toward Greta. He was maybe 70 years old with white hair and a kind face.

He stopped in front of her and spoke. Not regular German, Plats, low German, the dialect spoken in northern Germany around Hamburgg. the exact dialect Greta grew up hearing. You remind me of my granddaughter, the old man said in Plat Deutsch. She lives in Hamburg. Is your family from there? Greta could not speak for a moment. This old man spoke the language of her childhood, the language her grandmother spoke, perfect plat with the Hamburg accent. She finally found her voice.

Yes, Hamburg. My family lives there. His eyes filled with tears. I have not seen my granddaughter in four years before the war. We used to write letters, but nothing comes anymore. Do you know what it is like there? Is she? Greta broke. All the strength she had been holding on to for months shattered in one second. I do not know. I have not heard from my mother in over a year. No letters, nothing. The city is being bombed every night.

That is all I know. The old man put his hand on her shoulder. Tears ran down his wrinkled face. My granddaughter. My little Heidi. She’s only 16, just a child. They stood there crying together. Both from Hamburgg. Both German. Both terrified for family trapped in a burning city. Both victims of the same terrible war. But on opposite sides. How did that make any sense? Across the room, a young Canadian woman approached Leisel. The woman was about Leisel’s age, maybe 20 years old.

She had blonde hair and blue eyes and spoke with a Bavarian accent. You are from Bavaria? I heard you talking earlier. Leisel nodded, not trusting her voice. The Canadian woman sat down next to her. My parents came from Bavaria near Munich, so I have never been there, but they told me stories. She twisted a handkerchief in her hands. My brother is in Italy right now with the Canadian army. I am so scared for him. Everyday I wait for letters.

Leisel whispered, “My brother is in Russia with the Vermacht. I wait for letters, too. I have not heard from him in 9 months.” The two young women looked at each other. Same age, same fears, same hope that someone they loved would survive. The Canadian woman reached out and took Leisel’s hand. They sat there holding hands, two enemies crying for brothers fighting each other. Leisel thought her heart would break. They were the same. Exactly the same. So, how were they enemies?

Magda stood against the wall, watching everything. She watched German Canadians singing German songs. She watched them laughing and speaking German and celebrating their culture. But they were Canadians, loyal Canadians, sending their sons to fight Germany. They loved being German and they loved being Canadian at the same time. Both. Not one or the other. Both. In Germany, you could not do that. In Germany, being German meant following the furer. It meant the Nazi party. It meant everything together in one package.

You could not pick and choose. But here, these people picked. They kept their language and food and music. They threw away the dictatorship and hate and war. They proved something Magda never knew was possible. You could be German and free. You could love your heritage without loving what Germany had become. That realization hit Magda like a physical blow. Her entire understanding of the world cracked and fell apart. Everything she built her life on was wrong. Not just wrong, a lie.

A complete and total lie. The evening ended at 9:00. The guards loaded the women back onto trucks. The ride back to St. Jerome’s College was silent. Nobody spoke. They were all too overwhelmed. That night in the dormatory, the women fell apart. Some cried quietly into their pillows. Others cried loudly, not caring who heard. Greta sat on her bed and started screaming. They lied to us about everything. Everything. A younger woman, maybe 18 years old, grabbed Greta’s arm.

What do we do now? What do we believe? Greta had no answer. How do you rebuild your entire understanding of the world? How do you accept that everything you fought for was based on lies? Some women got angry. Anna, one of the older women, shouted, “This is a trick. They are manipulating us. Do not fall for it.” But Leisel shook her head, “It is not a trick. Those people have family in Germany right now. They are as scared as we are.

They are not pretending.” The arguments went on for hours. Some women insisted it was all propaganda. Others accepted what they were seeing. Most fell somewhere in the middle, confused and lost. Finally, near midnight, Magda spoke. She had been quiet all evening. Now she stood up, and her voice cut through the noise. We survive. We remember what we have seen here. And when we go home, we tell the truth. Greta looked at her. What truth? Magda’s voice was steady, but her eyes were full of pain.

That we were lied to. That the enemy showed us more kindness than our own government ever did. That you can be German without being a Nazi. That freedom exists and we never had it. The room went silent because everyone knew Magda was right. They had seen it with their own eyes, tasted it with their own mouths, heard it with their own ears. The propaganda was lies. All of it. And that truth was more terrifying than any torture could ever be.

Greta lay down on her bed that night, but did not sleep. She kept smelling the apple strudel, kept hearing the old man crying for his granddaughter, kept seeing Leisel holding hands with the Canadian woman. Everything had changed. Nothing would ever be the same again. October 1943. The days after the October Fest changed everything. The 847 women split into groups. Some accepted what they had seen. Some refused to believe it. Some were stuck in the middle, not knowing what to think anymore.

Greta became one of the believers. She could not unsee what she had witnessed. could not unfeill the kindness, could not unhear the truth. She started talking more with Framidt at the meat factory, ask questions about Canada, about democracy, about how people here lived. Framid brought her old German newspapers from before the war. Newspapers that said different things than the Nazi papers, newspapers that criticized the government openly. Greta stared at these papers like they were dangerous weapons. In Germany, criticizing the government got you arrested or killed.

Here it was normal. People complained about their leaders all the time and nothing happened to them. You can disagree with the Teigis government, Greta asked. Framitt laughed. Of course, that is what freedom means. I vote for who I want. I say what I think. The government works for us, not the other way around. This idea was so strange that Greta had trouble understanding it. The government works for the people, not the people working for the government. It was backwards from everything she knew.

But not everyone changed like Greta. About 250 of the 847 women refused to accept what they were seeing. They were led by older women who had been Nazi party members before the war. Women who believed strongly in the cause, women who could not let go. The leader of this group was a woman named Hilda Krauss. She was 35 years old and had been a Nazi party organizer in Berlin. She gathered the resistors together every evening and reminded them, “This is all lies, propaganda.

They are trying to break our spirits. Stay strong. Remember who you are. Remember the furer. These women kept Nazi protocols even in prison. They refused to be friendly with German Canadians. They would not speak to the guards unless forced. They ate the food but insisted it was a trick. Everything was a trick designed to weaken them. Then there were women like Leisel, the one stuck in the middle. She believed what she saw, but was terrified of what it meant.

If everything was a lie, what could she believe? Her whole world had been built on Nazi ideology. If that foundation was false, what was left? Leisel worked on the Bower farm every day. Mrs. Bower treated her kindly, fed her well, talked to her about life in Canada, but Leisel could not fully accept it. At night she lay in bed arguing with herself. Maybe it is propaganda. But it feels real. But maybe that is the point. But the old man crying for his granddaughter was real.

But maybe they are all actors. Round and round her thoughts went. The tensions between the groups grew worse. One evening in November, Greta and Hilda got into a screaming match in the dormatory. Greta had been talking about democracy with some younger women. Hilda overheard and exploded. “You are a traitor,” Hilda shouted. “You betray the fatherland,” Greta shouted back. “I am finally seeing the truth. We were lied to, used, thrown away.” “The Furer knows what is best.” “The Furer is destroying Germany while feeding us lies.” Other women joined in on both sides.

Voices rose. Pushing started. One of the guards had to come in and separate them. He made everyone go to bed without saying another word. But the damage was done. The 847 women were no longer united. They were divided into camps within the camp. In December 1943, the Canadian Postal Service started allowing the women to write letters home. Not many, one letter per month. And every letter was read by sensors who blocked out anything sensitive. But still they could write.

Greta wrote to her mother. The censored version said, “Dear mother, I am well. The work is not hard. The food is good. I pray for you every day. Canada is not what we were told. The people here are kind. I hope this letter finds you safe. Your loving daughter, Greta. What she wanted to write but could not was, “Mother, we were lied to about everything. The enemy is not barbaric. They are not cruel. They treat us better than our own army ever did.

I do not know if we are fighting for the right side. I think maybe we are the bad ones. I am so confused and scared.” But that truth had to stay in her diary. The diary she kept hidden under her mattress. the diary where she wrote everything honestly. She filled page after page with her thoughts, her fears, her realizations. One day she hoped to show it to someone who would understand. Leisel wrote home too. Dear mother, I work on a farm now.

The family is kind. They speak German like you do. I am healthy and safe. I miss you and think of you always. your daughter Leisel. She did not write about the two cars or the electric machines or the telephone. She did not write about having more food than she ever had at home. She did not write about her confusion and pain, just the safe things, the things that would pass the sensors. Magda wrote carefully. She was smart enough to know how to say things without saying them.

Dear colleagues in Berlin, I have learned much about Germany here in Canada. The Germans who live here maintain our culture while embracing freedom. It is a valuable lesson in what is possible. I hope for all of us to learn such lessons. Yours, Margaret. The sensors let it through because it sounded innocent. But Magda was saying everything she needed to say. if someone back home was smart enough to read between the lines. The guards and German Canadian civilians noticed the changes in the women.

They saw some prisoners opening up and asking questions. They saw others withdrawing and becoming harder. The kind civilians tried to help the ones who were transforming. Framed invited Greta to her church one Sunday, a German Lutheran church where the service was half in German and half in English. Greta sat in the pew and listened to the pastor preach about love and forgiveness and peace. Not about sacrifice for the state, not about duty to the furer, just love and forgiveness and peace.

She cried through the whole service. The Bower family included Leisel in their Sunday dinners. They did not push her to change her mind about anything. They just showed her their lives. Let her see what normal looked like. Let her experience family meals and laughter and warmth. Slowly, very slowly, Leisel started to soften. The hospital staff brought Magda books. books about political philosophy, books about democracy, books about history written from perspectives she had never seen. She read everything.

Her sharp mind absorbed it all. She was building a new understanding of the world piece by piece. By winter, the three groups were clear. The Transformers made up about 340 women. The resistors held strong at about 250 women. The high conflicted middle was about 257 women who moved between the groups depending on their mood and fear level. What they all now understood, even the resistors who would not admit it, was that propaganda was powerful. You could be told lies so many times that they became your truth.

The enemy they feared was invented. The threat they fought against did not exist. Everything was built on manipulation and control. They understood that real power did not need constant propaganda. Canada did not have posters everywhere telling people what to think. Germany covered every wall with Nazi messages. Which one was really strong? The one that had to constantly tell you it was strong or the one that just was strong? They understood that their homeland was not what they thought it was.

Letters that finally came from Germany in late 1943 told horrible stories. Starvation, bombing every night, cities in ruins. The war Germany started was destroying Germany. Meanwhile, Canada sent men to fight, but life at home continued. Factories ran, people ate, children went to school. That was the difference. Magda wrote in her notebook, “One cold December night.” She wrote, “Power built on lies eventually destroys itself. Power built on truth endures. Germany chose lies. Now Germany pays the price and we the believers pay it with them.” Greta wrote in her diary, “I was so proud to serve the fatherland.

I thought I was helping Germany become great. Now I see I was helping Germany destroy itself. We were tools, weapons used and discarded. The furer does not care if we live or die. But Mrs. Schmidt, my enemy, cries when she hears her cousin is starving. Who really cares about German people? Not the German government. Leisel wrote nothing in a diary. She was not a writer. But she thought constantly every night lying in her warm bed eating food that would have been a feast back home.

She thought about her brother in Russia. Was he cold? Was he hungry? Was he still alive? And if he was suffering while she was comfortable, what did that mean? It meant the war was wrong. It meant they were on the wrong side. It meant everything she believed was backwards. The winter of 1943 was the hardest time. Not because of cold or hunger. They had warmth and food. It was hard because accepting the truth meant destroying who they thought they were.

And that hurt worse than any physical pain ever could. May 7th, 1945. The guards called all 847 women to gather in the main hall at St. Jerome’s College. The radio was turned up loud. Everyone stood quietly waiting. Then the announcement came. Germany had surrendered. The war in Europe was over. The room stayed silent for a long moment. Then some women started crying. Others collapsed into chairs. A few smiled with relief. Most just stood there trying to process what this meant.

After 6 years of war, it was finally finished. Germany had lost. Everyone they fought for had lost. Everything they believed in had crumbled. Greta felt her knees go weak. She sat down hard on the floor. It was over. The war that killed millions. The war that destroyed cities. The war that took her fiance. Over. She whispered. Thank God. Thank God it is over. Leisel cried into her hands. Not from sadness, from relief so strong it hurt. Maybe her brother survived.

Maybe he could come home now. Maybe the dying would stop. Magda stood with her arms crossed, her face blank. But inside she was thinking, Germany lost. The Nazi regime was finished. What happened now? What would become of Germany? What would become of them? In the following weeks, news came from Germany. It was worse than anyone imagined. Berlin was rubble. Hamburg was destroyed. Cities they knew were gone. Millions of people were displaced and homeless. Starvation everywhere. The Nazi leaders were being hunted and arrested.

The whole country had collapsed into chaos. The Canadian government began planning for repatriation, sending prisoners home. But they gave the women a choice. They could return to Germany, or they could apply to stay in Canada. If they stayed, they needed a sponsor, a job, and had to pass security screening to make sure they were not dangerous. This choice tore the women apart. Stay in the country that was their enemy, or return to the homeland that had lied to them.

Both options felt wrong and right at the same time, Greta decided to return. She had to find her mother. had to know if her family survived the bombing. Even though Germany was destroyed, it was still home. She could not abandon her mother. She promised Framidt she would write. Fra Schmidt gave her a package of food to take with her and an address to write to if she needed help. Leisel chose to stay. The Bower family offered to sponsor her.

They said she could work on the farm and apply for citizenship. When Leisel told Mrs. Bower her decision, the older woman hugged her and cried. “You are family now,” Mrs. Bower said. Leisel thought about her village in Bavaria, thought about the small farm with no electricity. Thought about the future waiting there, if anything was left at all. Then she thought about Canada with its abundance and freedom. The choice was clear. There is nothing left in Bavaria for me, she told Greta.

Here I have a future. Magda also chose to stay. The hospital offered her a permanent job as a translator and nurse. She had no family left in Berlin. The city was divided between the Soviets and the Western Allies. Now the Soviet zone was dangerous for anyone who had worked for the Nazi government, even in a small way. Staying in Canada meant safety and a chance to help other refugees. She accepted immediately. Of the 847 women, 300 decided to stay.

The other 547 would go home. The German Canadian community organized a farewell ceremony at the Concordia Club in October 1945. The same place as the October Fest two years earlier. Everyone came. The women who were leaving, the women who were staying, the German Canadian families who had helped them, the guards who had watched over them. There were tears and hugs. Addresses were exchanged. Promises to write were made. The German Canadian community gave each woman returning to Germany a care package.

Food, soap, clothes, medicine, things Germany did not have anymore. things that might keep them alive. The guard commander, a quiet man who had supervised them for two years, gave a short speech. “You were never our enemies,” he said. “Just people caught in a terrible war. We wish you well. We hope you find peace.” Greta hugged Framid. They were both crying. Framid pressed a letter into Greta’s hand. For my cousin in Hamburgg, if you find her, please give this to her.

Tell her I love her. Tell her I pray for her. December 1945. The 547 women who chose to return boarded ships in Halifax Harbor. The journey was different from their arrival. They knew what waited for them now. Rubble, starvation, a broken country. But they also knew something else. They knew the truth. They knew what freedom looked like. They knew their government had lied to them. They carried that knowledge like a heavy weight. What they physically carried were Red Cross parcels filled with food and clothes, letters of recommendation from their Canadian employers, contact addresses of German Canadian families, photos and small momentos from their time in Canada.

Greta carried her diary, now 192 pages long, every word a record of her transformation. What they mentally carried was harder to describe. Knowledge that everything they believed was false. Understanding of what real freedom meant. Guilt about what Germany had done to the world. Hope that Germany could rebuild on better principles. Memories of kindness from people they were taught to hate. The ship docked in Bramer Hoofen in January 1946. The women walked down the gangway into a country they barely recognized.

The port was damaged. Buildings stood half destroyed. People shuffled past looking thin and gray. German soldiers in ragged uniforms begged for food. This was the great Germany they had believed in. This was the powerful nation that was supposed to rule the world. It was broken and starving and defeated. Greta took a train to Hamburgg. The journey took two days because the rail lines were damaged. When she finally arrived, she could not believe her eyes. Hamburg was gone.

Not damaged. Gone. Block after block of rubble. Buildings burned to shells. Craters where streets used to be. People living in the basement of destroyed houses. She found her mother living in what remained of their old apartment building. just two rooms still standing in a structure that once held 20 families. Her mother was alive but barely. She weighed 43 kg. Her clothes hung on her like sheets on a skeleton. When Greta walked in, her mother stared like she was seeing a ghost.

Greta dropped her Red Cross parcel on the floor. It split open and cans of food rolled across the broken floorboards. Her mother fell to her knees and started crying. Real food. Food from Canada. Food that might keep her alive another month. Greta knelt down and held her mother. The first words she spoke were, “Mama, I brought food.” The second words she spoke were, “They lied to us about everything.” Her mother just nodded. She already knew. Everyone in Germany knew now.

The lies had become obvious when the lies could no longer protect anyone from the truth. Leisel wrote letters from Canada to the neighbors in her old village in Bavaria. She described Canada. She urged anyone who could to immigrate. She sent packages of food through church organizations whenever she could. Her mother wrote back in March 1946. The letter said, “You were lucky to be captured. You were saved. Lucky to be a prisoner. Saved by the enemy. The world had turned upside down.

1946 to 1950. The years after the war were hard for everyone, but especially for those who returned to Germany. Greta stayed in Hamburgg with her mother. She used her English and her Canadian experience to get work with the British occupation forces as a translator. The British soldiers needed help talking to German civilians. Greta helped process refugees flooding in from the eastern territories, people who had been forced from their homes by the advancing Soviet army. She never forgot Framidt.

They wrote letters back and forth for 40 years, long letters about their lives, their families, their memories. In 1948, Greta met a British soldier named Robert. He was kind and gentle and reminded her that not all military men were cruel. They married and she moved to England with him. She was German, lived in Canada as a prisoner and became British by marriage. Her life crossed all the battle lines of the war. In 1961, Greta published a book.

She called it the enemy who fed us. It was her diary from those years in Canada with extra details added from memory. The book told the truth about how Canadian enemies treated German prisoners better than the German government treated its own soldiers. Some people in Germany got angry at the book. They said she was a traitor, but many more people read it and nodded because they knew she was telling the truth. Leisel became a Canadian citizen in 1950.

It took 5 years of paperwork and interviews and waiting, but finally she stood in a courthouse and swore loyalty to Canada. She cried through the whole ceremony. In 1952, she married Johan Bower, the youngest son of the family that sponsored her. They had four children together and raised them on the farm outside Kitchener. Those children grew up speaking German at home and English at school, just like their father had. In 1953, Leisel brought her mother from Germany to Canada.

The old woman stepped off the train in Kitchener and looked around at the clean streets and the well-fed people and the shops full of goods. Her first words were, “Now I understand your letters. You were not lying. This place is real.” Leisel’s mother lived another 20 years in Canada, never once regretting leaving Germany behind. Magda became the head translator at the Kitchener Waterlue Hospital by 1955. She never married. She said she was married to her work and her work was helping people.

She dedicated her life to helping German refugees settle in the Waterl region. Between 1947 and 1960, she personally helped process over 2,400 refugees. She found them housing, jobs, and language classes. She translated their documents and their fears and their hopes. In 1982, the Canadian government gave Magda the Order of Canada. It is one of the highest honors Canada gives to civilians. The ceremony was in Ottawa. Magda stood in her best dress, now 71 years old, while the Governor General pinned the medal to her chest.

The citation said she was being honored for humanitarian work and for building bridges between communities. People in Kitchener called her the angel of Kitchener. She smiled when she heard that, but said she was just doing what anyone should do. The 300 women who stayed in Canada built lives there. By 1950, all 300 had become citizens. They married and had children and became part of the community. 47 of them married Canadian men, mostly men of German descent, who understood their language and culture.

These women helped sponsor over 3,000 German refugees in the 1950s, using their own experiences to help newcomers adjust to Canadian life. The 547 women who returned to Germany had harder lives. They lived through the rubble years, the cold winters with no fuel, the hunger that lasted until the Marshall Plan brought American aid. But many of them became advocates for democracy in the New Germany. They had seen what freedom looked like. They knew it was possible to be German without being Nazi.

34 of these women eventually moved back to Canada in the 1950s and 1960s, bringing their families with them. Their experiences helped shape how Germany rebuilt itself. Some worked with Allied occupation authorities, helping to create democratic institutions. Others just lived their lives, but taught their children the truth about the war. They were witnesses to what propaganda could do and what freedom meant. For decades, the women who stayed in Canada and those who returned to Germany wrote letters to each other.

They shared news about their lives, their children, their grandchildren. They maintained the friendships formed in that strange time when they were enemies becoming witnesses. In 1983, someone had an idea. It was the 40th anniversary of their arrival in Canada. Why not have a reunion? Bring together as many of the original 847 women as possible. The idea spread through letters and phone calls. Women who had not seen each other in 40 years started planning to attend. September 24th, 1983.

Exactly 40 years after the October Fest that changed everything, the reunion was held at the Concordia Club, the same building where they had cried and realized the truth. One 127 of the original 847 women came. Some flew from Germany. Some drove from across Canada. Some were brought by their children and grandchildren. They were all around 60 years old now, gay-haired and wrinkled, but still the same women who had stood confused on a train platform 40 years earlier.

German and Canadian media came to cover the event. Reporters interviewed the women. Cameras filmed them hugging and crying and laughing. They shared old photos. They told their stories. They introduced their families to each other. Greta stood up to speak. She was 64 now, living in England, a grandmother of five. She said, “In 1943, we asked, are we in the wrong country?” The answer was, “No, we were in the right country. We just did not know it yet.” Canada showed us what our own country could have been if we had chosen freedom instead of following a dictator.

Leisel spoke next. She was 59, still living on the Bower farm with her husband and grown children. This community showed me that being German did not mean being a Nazi. You can love your heritage and still love freedom. You can speak German and be Canadian. You can be both. Germany forgot that. Canada never did. Magda was 71. She stood straight and spoke clearly. We were prisoners of war, but we found freedom in captivity. We came as enemies and left as witnesses to the truth.

The Canadians did not imprison us. Our own government imprisoned us in lies. The Canadians set us free by showing us what truth looked like. The reunion lasted three days. The women donated materials to the Canadian War Museum and the Kitchener Archives. Greta’s diary, 847 letters, 340 photographs from 1943 to 1945. Red Cross records documenting their treatment. All preserved so the story would not be forgotten. Their story became part of Canadian school lessons about how to treat prisoners of war.

It helped shape Canadian refugee policies after the war. When refugees came from Hungary in 1956 and Vietnam in the 1970s, Canada remembered how German prisoners became Canadian citizens. The story proved that treating enemies with dignity could turn them into friends. The German Canadian community gained respect for what they did during the war. They showed that you could love your heritage without supporting evil. They proved that culture and politics were separate things. That lesson mattered then and still matters now.

In 1998, a university student came to interview Magda. She was 86 years old and one of only three original women still alive. The student asked her to explain her experience in one final statement. Magda thought for a long moment, then she spoke. People ask me how I could forgive the Canadians for imprisoning me. I tell them, “The Canadians did not imprison us. Our own government imprisoned us in lies. The Canadians set us free. They fed our bodies with bread and our minds with truth.

We came as soldiers for a lie. We left as witnesses to what humanity could be, even in war.” She paused and looked out the window at Kitchener, the city that had become her home. The real question is not why German Canadians spoke German. It is why we did not know that Germans could be free, prosperous, and good without a furer. That realization that we could have had what these Canadians had without the war, without the hatred, without the death, that was the hardest truth to swallow.

Magda’s voice grew softer but stronger. We were never in the wrong country. We were on the wrong side. And it took the people we called enemies to show us what our own people could have been. The final numbers tell the story. 847 German women entered Canada between April and June 1943. Zero died in Canadian custody. 300 became Canadian citizens. 547 returned to Germany. 127 lived to attend the 1983 reunion. Three were still alive in 1998 when Magda gave her last interview.

Their story is a footnote in history. Most people never heard of them. But it is also a testament to humanity. It proves that war is fought between governments but live by people. that propaganda dies when confronted with human kindness. That the enemy often has more in common with us than our own leaders. That freedom means being able to love your heritage without hating others. Sometimes the greatest act of patriotism is admitting your country was wrong. Sometimes humanity transcends nationality, even in history’s darkest hours.

The 847 women learned that lesson in the hardest way possible. They came as believers and left as witnesses. And their witness still speaks today, reminding us that truth is stronger than lies and kindness is stronger than hate.

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