Show Us Your Feet – The Unexpected Demand That Left German Women POWs Perplexed
April 1945 was a tumultuous time in Europe. As the war drew to a close, the remnants of the German military were in retreat, and chaos reigned. On a rainy day in a processing tent at a prisoner of war camp, 47 German women auxiliary soldiers found themselves in an unexpected situation. Captured just three days earlier during the Rhine crossing, these women—signals operators, clerks, and nurses—stood in a line, their hearts pounding with anxiety and confusion.
As rain hammered the tin roof like machine gun fire, an American sergeant issued a command that left them frozen in disbelief: “Show us your feet.” The request was bizarre and alarming, a stark contrast to the violence and humiliation they had anticipated. The women exchanged bewildered glances, unsure of what to make of this strange demand.
The Weight of Suffering
Among the women was 23-year-old Ingrid, a Wehrmacht auxiliary who had been wearing the same boots for four months. The leather had fused to her skin in places, a painful reminder of the brutal conditions they had endured. Next to her stood Greta, just 19, who had been marching for weeks, retreating from the Eastern Front and now faced the grim reality of captivity. As the sergeant repeated his order—“Boots off, socks off”—Ingrid whispered to Greta, “What do they really want?”
The atmosphere was tense; the women were terrified. They had expected interrogation or worse, but feet? What could this possibly mean? The first woman, Hannah, a 31-year-old senior auxiliary, reluctantly stepped forward, determined to protect the younger women. As she unlatched her boots, the smell of rot and infection filled the air. The sight of her damaged feet shocked the American medics, who were unprepared for the severity of the conditions they would encounter.
The Medical Emergency Unfolds
As Hannah peeled off her sock, she winced in pain, taking skin with it. The young American medic gasped—not from disgust, but from alarm. “Jesus Christ, get the sulfa now!” he shouted, realizing the gravity of the situation. The women watched in confusion as the medics sprang into action, calling for supplies, warm water, and bandages. Why would they care about German feet? Why waste medical supplies on enemies?
But the medics were already transforming the tent into a makeshift field hospital. They began treating the women’s feet as if they were their own soldiers. The first woman, Ingrid, revealed feet so damaged by trench foot that the skin peeled away with her sock. The medic examined her, noting the dead nerves and blackened flesh. “How long?” he asked through a translator. “Since January,” Ingrid replied, her voice barely a whisper.
The retreat from the Eastern Front had been brutal, with no medical care available. The women had marched for 300 miles, enduring the elements and neglect. The medic called for more personnel, realizing that 90% of the women had severe foot infections, gangrene starting, and untreated wounds. The smell of rot mixed with leather and fear filled the tent as the medics worked tirelessly.
An Unexpected Kindness
As the medics continued their work, the atmosphere began to shift. The Americans were not recoiling in disgust; they were concerned. They poured sulfa powder—an expensive miracle drug—onto the women’s feet, treating them with the care usually reserved for their own troops. “Because you’re patients now, not enemies,” one medic explained, highlighting a profound shift in perspective.
The warmth of the water was a shock to the women, many of whom hadn’t washed their feet in months. As the dirt and blood dissolved, the damage underneath was revealed. Each basin turned black within seconds, and the medics worked in teams, washing, treating, and bandaging. The efficiency was remarkable, but so was the personal care each woman received.
Greta, still standing in her boots, caught the attention of a medic. “You too. Boots off,” he insisted. Reluctant, she hesitated, knowing that her secret was worse than infection. But the other women were receiving treatment, and she felt the pressure to comply. Finally, she sat down and removed her boots, revealing a gruesome sight—pieces of glass embedded in her feet from stepping through a shattered shop window during the retreat.
The medic’s expression turned serious as he assessed the situation. He called for surgical tools, knowing this was not just a matter of washing. As he began extracting the glass shards, Greta remained stoic, refusing to show weakness. The medic, however, was visibly affected, tears rolling down his cheeks as he worked. “Why are you crying?” Greta asked, unable to comprehend the emotion from an enemy soldier.
A Shared Humanity
The medic, Private Johnson, revealed that he had lost his sister to an untreated infection back home. “I joined the medical corps because of her death,” he said, explaining that he vowed to never let preventable infections kill anyone, enemy or not. This moment of vulnerability shattered the barriers between them. Greta, once a soldier, now found herself cared for by a medic who had every reason to hate her.
As the medics continued their work, they taught the women basic foot care, sharing knowledge that could have saved countless lives. “Change socks twice daily when possible. Dry feet completely,” they advised. The American medics were not just treating wounds; they were imparting lessons learned through the horrors of war.
The scene in the tent transformed from one of fear and confusion to one of compassion and care. American nurses joined the effort, washing the women’s feet with tenderness and respect. The act of washing feet, a profound gesture in many cultures, became a symbol of humility and service. One nurse, Lieutenant Sarah Mitchell, knelt in the mud, washing the feet of a former enemy with the same care she would give to her own.
Breaking Down Barriers
As the treatment continued, the women began to confront their beliefs. One former Hitler youth leader, Ilsa, stood up defiantly, accusing the Americans of staging the kindness for propaganda. The tension in the tent escalated as some women sided with her, while others began to doubt. The confrontation forced them to reckon with their preconceived notions about their captors.
Lieutenant Mitchell calmly responded, “No cameras, just medicine.” The truth of the situation began to sink in. The American medics were treating them with respect, not as enemies but as human beings in need of care. The realization that the Americans were not the monsters they had been led to believe began to break down the walls of propaganda that had shaped their worldview.
In a moment of vulnerability, Mitchell revealed her own story, showing the tattooed numbers on her arm. She was a Holocaust survivor, treating the very people whose country had caused her immense suffering. “I choose to be better than what was done to us,” she stated, a powerful reminder of the capacity for humanity even in the darkest of times.
A Transformative Experience
As the women’s feet were treated, the emotional weight of the moment became palpable. They began to confront their pasts, admitting to one another the roles they had played in the war. “I typed deportation orders,” one woman confessed. Another spoke of her brother in the SS. The tent became a confessional, a space for healing not just of bodies but of minds and spirits.
Greta, who had once hidden her injuries, now found herself in a position to help others. “I want to help,” she said, seeking purpose in the wake of her newfound understanding. This desire for redemption marked a significant turning point for many of the women.
Months later, something extraordinary happened in occupied Germany. Former German auxiliaries began volunteering as nurses in American field hospitals. They were no longer just soldiers; they were individuals seeking to rebuild through service. The transformation was remarkable. Women who had once typed orders for the Wehrmacht now typed medical records, using their skills for healing rather than destruction.
The Power of Kindness
The story of these women reflects the profound impact of kindness in the face of hatred. The simple act of washing feet became a moment of revelation, a turning point that changed their lives forever. They learned that humanity transcends borders and ideologies, that compassion can flourish even amidst the ruins of war.
As they worked together, the former enemies found common ground. They shared laughter, stories, and songs, realizing that despite their pasts, they could choose a different path. The motto “Healing knows no borders” became a guiding principle for these women as they rebuilt their lives.
In the years that followed, they continued to advocate for peace and understanding, sharing their stories and warning future generations about the dangers of hatred and propaganda. Their experiences in the POW camp shaped their lives, leading them to become advocates for compassion and empathy in a world that often forgets the lessons of the past.
Conclusion: A Legacy of Humanity
The moment when the American sergeant demanded, “Show us your feet,” initiated a chain of events that would lead to profound change for both the German women and their American captors. It became a testament to the power of kindness, a reminder that even in the darkest times, humanity can shine through.
As we reflect on this incredible story, we are reminded of the importance of compassion and understanding. The women who once stood as enemies found healing not just in their physical wounds but in their hearts and minds. They learned that true strength lies in the ability to forgive, to change, and to choose kindness over hatred.
In a world still grappling with the scars of conflict, their story serves as a beacon of hope—a reminder that even the smallest acts of humanity can have the most profound impact.
