German POWs Couldn’t Believe America Let Them Play Baseball in Camps

A Game of Ideologies: The Unlikely Transformation of German Prisoners

The year was 1943, the height of World War II, and the fate of nations was on the line. Across the globe, men were dying in battlefields, nations were torn apart, and ideologies fought for dominance. Yet, in a prisoner of war camp in Kansas, something far more subtle—yet equally revolutionary—was unfolding. This is the story of Werner Drexler, a 26-year-old German soldier, whose world was shaken not by bombs or bullets, but by a game of baseball.

A New World

It was a hot July morning at Camp Concordia in Kansas. The sun hung low, casting long shadows over the dusty diamond, where Werner Drexler stood. His hands trembled slightly, the wooden bat held loosely in his grip. Around him, the sounds of a typical American afternoon filled the air—children’s laughter, the crack of a bat, the cheer of a crowd. Yet this was no ordinary baseball field. The players weren’t American children, but captured German soldiers, far from their homeland, and dressed not in their military uniforms, but in borrowed American baseball gear.

“Is this… for real?” Drexler whispered to himself, his mind struggling to comprehend what his eyes were seeing.

It was July 7th, 1943. He had expected an environment of deprivation and harsh punishment, but what he saw was something else entirely. A fully equipped baseball diamond with freshly cut grass, bleachers, and bases neatly aligned, set against the backdrop of the vast Kansas plains. The soldiers, captured in the heat of the war, stood in groups, some with mitts, others with bats, ready for an afternoon game.

Here, amidst the backdrop of the greatest conflict the world had ever known, Drexler experienced something he had never been taught to expect from America. The ideology of hatred and disdain he had been raised with was being shattered by something as simple as a ball and a bat. In that moment, the walls that had been built up inside him began to crack.

Shattering Propaganda

As a member of the Hitler Youth, Drexler had grown up steeped in Nazi propaganda that painted America as weak, decadent, and ripe for destruction. The regime’s official narrative claimed that the United States was an economic disaster, wracked by poverty, racial strife, and a capitalist system teetering on the brink of collapse. The American soldier was often depicted as soft, undisciplined, and more concerned with luxury than with battle.

But now, as he stood on that baseball field, Drexler was forced to confront the impossibility of the propaganda he had been fed. The prisoners were not treated like enemies. No, they were offered luxury and comfort that Drexler had not seen in years. The equipment alone—a fully stocked baseball field, gloves, bats, even a stadium’s worth of seating—was more than he could have imagined. This was a nation at war, yet somehow, they had the resources to offer their enemies an afternoon of sport, to treat them like guests rather than prisoners.

Drexler swung the bat at the approaching ball, the crack of wood against leather echoing across the compound. It was a clean hit. The ball sailed into the outfield, and Drexler, with a sudden smile on his face, ran towards first base. His feet pounded the dirt, and for the first time in years, he felt free.

The Camp as a Microcosm

The American system was designed to exceed the Geneva Convention’s minimal requirements. Under international law, prisoners were entitled to a certain amount of food, shelter, and recreation. But the Americans went far beyond these requirements, demonstrating an abundance of resources that was unfathomable to the prisoners. At Camp Concordia, prisoners lived in barracks built in record time, with access to recreational facilities, dining halls that served three hearty meals a day, and medical care that surpassed anything they had known in Europe.

“How could they do this?” Drexler wondered. “We are their enemies. Yet, they give us everything. Why?”

The German soldiers, many of whom had never left their homeland before, found themselves in a foreign land where the rules of scarcity and deprivation did not apply. America seemed to have an endless supply of everything—from food to raw materials—while Germany, struggling under Allied bombings, could not even provide for its citizens, let alone its soldiers. The Germans arrived at the camp with a sense of superiority, only to be humbled by the daily displays of American prosperity.

The Subtle Psychological Warfare

The baseball program at Camp Concordia was not merely a recreational activity. It was psychological warfare in its most subtle form. Colonel John Thompson, the commanding officer at the camp, understood this perfectly. A career military officer with a degree in psychology, Thompson knew that the best way to break the prisoners’ loyalty to their Nazi ideals was not through force, but through exposure to American culture—through experiences that contradicted everything they had been taught.

“Every baseball glove is worth a thousand leaflets,” Thompson reportedly told his staff. “We don’t need to tell them about American prosperity. We simply allow them to experience it firsthand.”

Baseball, with its inherent emphasis on order, teamwork, and efficiency, became the perfect vehicle for showcasing the abundance and organization of American society. The game itself was a manifestation of the American way of life—structured, competitive, and full of optimism. It was a striking contrast to the chaos and despair that Drexler had been taught to associate with the United States.

A Transformation Begins

As the weeks passed, the prisoners began to embrace the game. It wasn’t just a distraction; it was a new way of thinking. For many of them, especially the younger soldiers like Drexler, baseball became a window into American society—a society they had been taught to fear, but now, were beginning to admire.

Drexler’s letters home, once filled with pride in his Nazi heritage, began to change. In one letter to his younger brother, he wrote, “The Americans seem to have endless supplies of everything. Yesterday, after our baseball game, they simply replaced three broken bats and a torn glove without comment, as if such things cost nothing.” It was a stark contrast to the scarcity he had known in Germany. For the first time, he began to question the system that had told him America was weak, decadent, and doomed to failure.

The Realization of American Strength

As the war raged on, news from the front lines reached the camps. The Allies were advancing. The prisoners were kept informed, and they could see the writing on the wall. The war was all but lost for Germany. But even more significant than the military defeats were the daily reminders of America’s overwhelming capacity for production and ingenuity.

By the spring of 1944, the baseball program had grown into a fully-fledged league. The prisoners played in organized tournaments, complete with team uniforms and official scorecards. The games were no longer just a distraction—they were a representation of the American way of life: efficient, plentiful, and always improving. Even the German officers could not help but notice the stark contrast between American prosperity and the devastation back home.

One officer, Feldweibel Otto Schuman, approached an American supply officer after a game. “How many of these gloves and bats can your factories produce in a month?” Schuman asked.

The American officer’s response was nonchalant. “Millions, I suppose, though baseballs are being made with rubber substitutes now since natural rubber goes to the war effort.”

The reality of American production capabilities was a bitter pill for the German officers to swallow. America, the country they had been taught to despise, was outproducing their own war machine in every category. It was not just the military machinery, but even something as simple as baseball gloves. The realization that America could afford to waste materials on recreational equipment while Germany was struggling to supply its troops was a wake-up call that could no longer be ignored.

The Final Irony

By the time the war drew to a close, the prisoners at Camp Concordia had undergone a transformation. They had been captured enemies, but they were now witnesses to a society so powerful, so efficient, and so prosperous that it had become impossible to deny its superiority.

When Germany finally surrendered on May 7th, 1945, the prisoners were on the baseball field. They had been playing the game, a symbol of the very nation that had defeated them. The game was never finished that day. The news of Germany’s surrender spread quietly through the camp, and as the prisoners stood in stunned silence, they began to realize the full extent of their defeat—not just on the battlefield, but in every aspect of life.

For many of them, the baseball field had become a place of transformation. What had begun as a simple game had evolved into a profound lesson about America—about its culture, its values, and its unimaginable capacity for production and abundance. The baseball gloves, the meals, the buildings—they were all physical manifestations of a nation that had mastered the art of efficiency and abundance.

A Legacy of Transformation

In the years that followed the war, many of the former prisoners returned to Germany, but the lessons they had learned in America stayed with them. Some would go on to become leaders in Germany’s post-war economic miracle, bringing with them the lessons of American industry and efficiency.

For Werner Drexler, the game of baseball had not just transformed his views on America; it had transformed his life. His journey from a Nazi soldier to a student of American methods was a testament to the power of exposure to new ideas, and the unintentional lessons that could be learned even in the most unlikely places.

The legacy of the baseball games at Camp Concordia continued to shape lives long after the war. The simple act of playing a game of baseball had broken down the walls of ideology, proving that sometimes, the most effective weapon in the battle for hearts and minds is not a bullet, but a ball.

And so, in the quiet corners of history, the story of a few German soldiers who learned to love America, not through propaganda, but through the shared experience of a baseball game, remains a testament to the power of human connection—transcending nationalities, ideologies, and even the greatest conflicts.