Our good friend Peter Pauwels in Heerlen just sent us his family’s story of Christmas during the harsh winter of 1944, which appears below.
The men of the 111th had been in Heerlen since October, living, as Peter says, all over the city in various types of housing. Below is a photo of my father, Edward Johnson (on the left), and his best friend John Andrews next to a decorated tree of sorts my dad had put up. On the back of the photo he had written, “Some tree, eh what? Inside Small Arms Repair truck…Last year, darling!”
Here is Peter’s story:
Christmas 1944: An unexpected downer
It’s Christmas Day. 2022. The situation in Ukraine reminds me of a story my mother told me. She often recalled how Christmas 1944 turned out differently than people had imagined.
It is December 1944. South Limburg, Netherlands, and of course Heerlen, had been liberated by the Americans in September. The U.S. Army has their vehicles everywhere. They camp in farms and even some houses. This also applied to Sint Barbarastraat 66 (at the time called Dorpstraat), where my mother lives, where her brother Herman and both parents lived, and also my grandfather and grandmother. In and around Palemig there were American tanks and other vehicles everywhere. It was quiet at the front, so the men took it easy. At the Red Cross Rest Center, Heerlen, there was plenty of entertainment available, including cinemas, bars and dance facilities. Everyone assumed that the Germans were pretty much defeated.
Life also went on in Palemig. Mother Ruijters did the laundry, father Ruijters went to work every day at the Oranje Nassau Mine I, where he was supervisor. And for 15-year-old Lies there was enough distraction from the Americans. The house, in particular one of the rooms, was set up as a reporting post for the soldiers who were stationed in and around Palemig. Young men came by every day to deal with administrative matters, such as issuing passes and travel documents. Especially interesting was a typewriter. To the people here, the compact modern-looking devices of American origin looked ‘high-tech’. The Americans taught my mother to type, which sometimes resulted in mischievous texts.
Christmas was coming and many residents of Palemig and Meezenbroek were preparing for this celebration. The presence of the Americans meant that traditional Christmas food would be back to normal. Due to the rationing of the previous years, the meals had been meager. In many families the menu varied in some way: beans with applesauce one day, applesauce with beans the next. Thanks to the coal mines, our region never really suffered from hunger. Anyway, the Americans had more than enough food with them, things we didn’t know at all here. In exchange for chores, such as doing the soldiers’ laundry, families could count on a can of peaches or a sack of flour. And the latter meant that baking could finally be done again. In the Ruijters house, the iron pie plates were already set up to bake as usual. Oh, how they looked forward to a Christmas as usual!
But it was quiet at the front, too quiet. It would soon become apparent that Hitler’s Germany was far from defeated!
When this became known, panic set in. In the middle of the night, the Americans stationed here had to go on trucks to the Ardennes. Everything that had wheels was used. The young soldiers quickly lost the illusion of a quick victory. Residents wondered what was going on. Fear set in. The Germans are coming back!
Finally, at the end of January, thanks to a lack of fuel and the rapid reaction of the Americans, the Germans were driven back behind the borders of their ‘Greater German Reich’. There were many casualties on the German side, but also on the American side. That’s how my mother heard that one of her military friends had lost a leg. Christmas 1944: It turned out differently than expected.
Let’s silently think of all the people who are in a similar situation today, anywhere in the world.
WWII Tracings 