New Pope Risked Death by Deserting
in WWII
By DAVID McHUGH, Associated Press Writer
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
(04-19)
12:34 PDT BERLIN, Germany (AP) --
In May
1945, thousands of German prisoners of war trudged down the highway toward
the Bavarian town of Bad Aibling. Among them — tired but grateful to be
alive — was 18-year-old Joseph Ratzinger, who days before had risked death
by deserting the German army.
"In three
days of marching, we hiked down the empty highway, in a column that
gradually became endless," the new pope recalled years later in his memoirs.
"The
American soldiers photographed us, the young ones, most of all, in order to
take home souvenirs of the defeated army and its desolate personnel."
Like his
predecessor, John Paul II, Ratzinger was marked by the terror-filled years
of World War II. Karol Wojtyla was forced to work in a quarry and narrowly
escaped arrest in a mass roundup of young men by the Germans in Krakow;
Ratzinger's experiences were also harrowing.
In
particular, his decision to leave his army unit just after he turned
military age could have cost Ratzinger his life.
At the
time, he knew that the dreaded SS units would shoot a deserter on the spot —
or hang him from a lamppost as a warning to others. He recalled his terror
when he was stopped by other soldiers.
"Thank God
they were ones who had had enough of war and did not want to become
murderers," he wrote in his book, "Aus meinem Leben," published in English
as "Milestones: Memoirs 1927-1977."
"They had
to find a reason to let me go. I had my arm in a sling because of an
injury."
"Comrade,
you are wounded," they told him. "Go on."
Soon he was
home with his father, Josef, and his mother, Maria.
For years,
he and his family had watched the Nazis strengthen their grip on Germany.
His father, a policeman and a convinced anti-Nazi, moved the family at least
once after clashing with local followers of the party. A local teacher, he
remembered, became an ardent follower of the new movement, and tried to
institute a pagan May pole ritual as more fitting of Germanic ways than the
traditional, conservative Catholicism.
In 1941,
Ratzinger, 14, and his brother, Georg were enrolled in the Hitler Youth when
it became mandatory for all boys. Soon after, he writes in his book, "The
Salt of the Earth," he was let out because of his intention to study for the
priesthood.
In 1943,
like many teenage boys, he was drafted as a helper for an anti-aircraft
brigade, which defended a BMW plant outside Munich. Later, he dug anti-tank
trenches. When he turned 18, on April 16, 1945, he was put through basic
training, alongside men in their 30s and 40s, drafted as the Third Reich
went through its death agony. He was stationed near his hometown — he
doesn't say where — but did not see combat with the approaching U.S. troops.
After he
returned home, the Americans finally arrived — and set up their headquarters
in his parents 18th century farmhouse on the outskirts of the town.
They
identified him as a German soldier, made him put on his uniform, put up his
hands, and marched him off to join other prisoners kept in a nearby meadow.
Taken to a camp near Ulm, he wound up living outside for several weeks,
surrounded by barbed wire.
He was
finally released June 19 and hitched a ride on a milk truck back to
Traunstein.
His family
was happy to see him.
"Of course,
for full joy, something was missing. Since the beginning of April, there had
been no word from Georg," he remembered. "So there was a quiet worry in our
house."
Suddenly,
in the middle of July, in walked Georg, tanned and unharmed. He sat at the
piano and banged out the hymn, "Grosser Gott, wir Loben Dich,""Mighty God,
we Praise You" as his family rejoiced.
The war was
truly over.
"The
following months of regained freedom, which we now had learned to value so
much, belong to the happiest months of my life," he wrote.