Captured German Nurses Sent to U.S. Hospitals — And Shocked by the Treatment They Received.
In the aftermath of World War II, as Europe began to heal from the devastation of six years of conflict, a remarkable story unfolded involving a group of 147 German army nurses. These women, mostly in their early twenties, had been trained to care for the wounded on the front lines, witnessing horrors that would haunt them forever. Captured during the final collapse of the Third Reich, their journey from enemy combatants to compassionate caregivers in American hospitals would challenge their perceptions of war and humanity.
The Context: Captured and Uncertain
It was 1945, and the war in Europe had just ended. The German nurses had spent months tending to the wounded in field hospitals under constant threat of bombardment. Now, they found themselves prisoners of war, unsure of what awaited them. On June 12, 1945, they boarded a US troop ship bound for America, their hearts heavy with dread. They had heard the propaganda: Americans would treat them harshly, as criminals, perhaps worse.
As the ship docked at New York Harbor, the women were marched down the gangplank under guard. The air smelled of salt and summer, but the scent was overshadowed by their anxiety. Instead of the prison trucks they expected, a fleet of Red Cross ambulances and buses awaited them. Colonel Margaret Harper, a US Army medical officer, stepped forward and addressed the nurses in careful German.
“You are prisoners of war, but you are also nurses,” she said. “You will be sent to military hospitals across the United States to assist with wounded American soldiers. You will be treated with the respect due to medical personnel under the Geneva Convention.” The women exchanged glances, stunned by the unexpected kindness from their captors.
A Shocking Transformation
The nurses were taken to a processing center in New Jersey, where they experienced their first shock. Instead of harsh treatment, they underwent thorough medical examinations conducted by female American nurses. There was no humiliation, only professionalism. They were issued clean clothes, new US Army nurse uniforms in their sizes, complete with shoes and stockings.
After hot showers with real soap, they were served a meal of roast chicken, mashed potatoes, fresh vegetables, apple pie, and coffee with real cream. For 23-year-old Hannah Klene from Berlin, the first bite of pie was overwhelming. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she realized she was being treated like a human being for the first time in a long while. Many of the women cried quietly over their plates, not from sadness, but from the simple kindness they were receiving.
That night, they slept in clean barracks with real beds. Hannah whispered to her bunkmate, “They gave us uniforms like we are still nurses.” Her friend replied, “They gave us dignity.”
A New Role in American Hospitals
The next day, the women were split into groups and sent by train to military hospitals across the country, from California to New York. Their new role involved caring for severely wounded American soldiers returning from the battlefields of Europe and the Pacific. As they traveled, they witnessed the vast landscapes of America, but their minds were filled with apprehension about how they would be received in these hospitals.
Upon arrival, the nurses found themselves in facilities overflowing with wounded soldiers—young men with missing limbs, burned faces, and shattered bodies. They braced for hostility, anticipating curses and rejection. However, what they encountered was entirely different.
In a hospital in Kansas, 24-year-old Leisel Hartman from Vienna was assigned to a ward of amputees. Her first patient was a 19-year-old private from Iowa who had lost both legs in the Battle of the Bulge. When he saw her faded German insignia, he turned his face away. Leisel understood his reaction and remained silent as she began her work, changing dressings and adjusting morphine drips with the same precision she had used on German soldiers.
Building Bridges Through Care
As the days passed, the initial tension began to dissolve. On the third day, the private watched her work with growing curiosity. By the fifth day, he asked for water. Leisel brought it to him, and as he drank, he said, “You’re good at this.”
Leisel nodded, “I was a nurse for four years.” The private paused, then replied, “On our side.” The acknowledgment hung in the air, a fragile bridge being built amidst the rubble of war. “Thank you,” he said quietly.
Similar scenes played out across the country. In a California hospital, Anna Veber from Dresden assisted in surgery on a marine with severe burns from Iwo Jima. The American surgeon, exhausted from long hours, handed her instruments without hesitation. After the operation, he remarked, “You’ve done this before.” Anna replied, “Many times.” He nodded, “Good hands.”
The German nurses worked long shifts, paid the same as American nurses in camp script. They ate the same food and had the same breaks. While some American patients initially refused care from German nurses, pain and time changed their minds. A sergeant from Texas with a shattered arm told his German nurse, Greta, “I hated Germans. Thought you were all monsters, but you’ve got gentle hands.” Greta smiled sadly and replied, “We were told the same about you.”
A Transformative Experience
By autumn, something unexpected had occurred. The German nurses were no longer seen as the enemy; they were simply nurses. Some patients began asking for them by name, and letters were written home about the German girl who sang while changing bandages. In one ward in Illinois, a group of GIs pooled their cigarette rations to buy a small Christmas gift for their German nurse—a bar of real chocolate. When she received it, she cried, not just for the chocolate but because they called her “our nurse.”
The American staff observed this transformation with quiet amazement. Colonel Harper, touring the hospitals, noted in her report, “The German medical personnel have performed their duties with professionalism and compassion. Many American patients have expressed gratitude for their care. This arrangement has proven mutually beneficial.”
Beneath the surface, the German nurses carried the weight of their past experiences. They had treated dying boys on the Eastern Front and witnessed cities burn. Now, they were caring for the men who had burned them. In this shared space of pain and healing, something profound began to take shape—not forgiveness, perhaps, but understanding. They recognized that war makes monsters of everyone until someone chooses not to be one.
Healing Beyond Borders
In US hospitals, the German nurses became indispensable. Wounded GIs—amputees, burn victims, and shell-shocked soldiers—arrived constantly. Many initially refused German care, but compassion ultimately prevailed. Leisel continued to care for her double amputee patient, who soon requested only her. Anna assisted in surgeries, earning praise for her battlefield skills. Patients asked for them by name, and one blinded marine even gave his Purple Heart to his nurse, saying, “Carry it for me.”
As the nurses found purpose in their work, they began to heal themselves. They transformed from symbols of the enemy to compassionate caregivers, bridging the chasm created by war. American doctors admired their improvisation and professionalism. Colonel Harper’s reports highlighted the mutual respect that had developed, noting that the German nurses had become an integral part of the healing process.
Conclusion: A Legacy of Compassion
By late 1945, bonds had formed between the nurses and their patients. Small gifts were exchanged, and the nurses left the hospitals not just as healers but as individuals who had healed themselves in the process. In the shared pain of war and the compassion of care, understanding emerged.
The story of the German army nurses in American hospitals is a powerful testament to the human capacity for empathy and connection, even in the aftermath of conflict. It challenges us to reconsider our perceptions of enemies and allies, urging us to recognize the shared humanity that binds us all.
As we reflect on this remarkable tale, we are reminded that sometimes, the most profound transformations occur in the most unexpected places. The nurses’ journey from captivity to care illustrates that compassion can transcend the boundaries of war, creating a legacy of understanding that endures long after the guns have fallen silent. In a world still grappling with the consequences of conflict, their story serves as a beacon of hope, inspiring us to choose kindness and connection over division and hatred.
