“It Hurts When I Sit” – German Woman POW’s Hidden Torture Scars Make US Medic Cry
In November 1944, amidst the backdrop of World War II, a young German woman named Hannalor Sidel stepped into an American military examination room at Camp Forest, Tennessee. The air was thick with tension, and the cold morning added a chill to her already fragile demeanor. Thin and silent, she exuded an aura of fear that was palpable. As she faced the American medic, Leland Caroway, he posed simple questions: “Do you have pain? Any injuries? Anything I should know?” Each time, she shook her head, her voice barely a whisper. But her body told a different story—a story of hidden torment that would soon unfold.
The Weight of Silence
When Leland pressed further, a quiet confession slipped from her lips: “It hurts when I sit.” Those five words unlocked a horror that made the medic weep openly. Beneath her clothing lay not just physical injury, but a map of systematic torture inflicted by her own countrymen. The reality of what she had endured was shocking and heartbreaking.
Leland Caroway was not just any medic; he was a man driven by compassion. He believed that every prisoner, regardless of their past, deserved medical care. His conviction was not merely a reflection of the Geneva Convention, but a deeply held belief that suffering transcended national boundaries. In a time when cruelty was rampant, Leland chose to see humanity in those who had been labeled as enemies.
A Compassionate Heart
Arriving at Camp Forest in late October 1944, Leland faced skepticism from his fellow soldiers. “You understand these are Germans, Caroway,” his commanding officer, Captain Vickers, warned. “They’re not victims. They’re enemies.” But Leland stood firm, asserting, “They’re patients, sir. If they’re wounded or sick, they’re my responsibility.” His passion for healing stemmed from his upbringing in rural Virginia, where his father, a country doctor, instilled in him the belief that healing was a calling.
As the camp prepared for the arrival of female prisoners—an unusual occurrence—Leland anticipated the challenges ahead. The camp housed over 12,000 POWs, primarily German and Italian soldiers, but the arrival of women complicated the logistics. Special barracks were designated, and medical protocols rewritten, reflecting the uncertainty surrounding the care of female prisoners.
When the transport trucks rolled in on November 14, 1944, Leland observed the 43 women disembark. They appeared exhausted, frightened, and painfully thin, their silence speaking volumes. Their compliance was a survival mechanism, learned through years of oppression. Leland understood that his real work was about to begin.
The Examination Begins
The medical examinations commenced the following day. As Leland examined the women one by one, he documented signs of malnutrition, respiratory infections, and untreated injuries. Most were predictable for wartime conditions, but when Hannalor entered the examination room, Leland sensed something different. Her movements were stiff, her posture unnaturally rigid. She sat on the examination table with hesitation, her eyes fixed on the floor, avoiding contact.
Leland’s training taught him to observe closely, and he noticed the subtle signs of trauma that Hannalor’s words tried to conceal. When he asked her to take a deep breath, she winced, her shoulder locking in response to the movement. Despite her denials, her body betrayed her pain.
“I am here to help you. You are safe now,” Leland reassured her. For a fleeting moment, their eyes met, and he glimpsed the fear and weight of secrets she carried. It was a silent plea for understanding, and Leland felt compelled to breach the wall she had built around herself.
The Revelation of Pain
With gentle persistence, Leland pressed her to reveal the truth. “I need to examine your shoulder more carefully. I believe you have an injury there,” he said. After a long silence, Hannalor finally spoke, her voice a fragile whisper: “It hurts when I sit.” The admission was a turning point, revealing the extent of her suffering.
As she slowly pulled down her uniform to expose her shoulder, Leland’s heart sank. The sight was harrowing. Her shoulder blade was misshapen, and scars crisscrossed her back, evidence of brutality that had been inflicted repeatedly. The bruising, still fresh, told a story of violence that had left its mark on her body and soul.
“Who did this to you?” Leland asked, though he already feared the answer. “A guard at the labor camp where I was sent,” she replied flatly, recounting the horrors she had endured. “I was too slow. I did not move fast enough when he gave an order. So, he taught me to move faster.”
The casualness of her words pierced Leland’s heart. He understood that Hannalor’s suffering was not an isolated incident but part of a broader system of cruelty that had dehumanized countless individuals. He felt tears welling in his eyes, unable to maintain his professional detachment in the face of such raw pain.
The Healing Journey
Leland’s compassion ignited a determination within him to provide Hannalor with the care she desperately needed. He documented her injuries meticulously and referred her to Dr. Oswin Cardy, the camp physician, for comprehensive treatment. Together, they formulated a care plan that addressed both her immediate medical needs and the long-term damage caused by years of abuse.
Hannalor’s recovery was slow but steady. The infected wounds required daily cleaning and antibiotics, a limited but essential resource. As she began to receive proper nutrition—rations equivalent to those provided to American troops—her body started to heal. Leland visited her regularly, not only as her medic but as a friend, forging a bond that transcended their circumstances.
By January 1945, Hannalor had gained nearly 20 pounds, her physical wounds healing, though the scars would remain. She began participating in camp life, working alongside other women who had endured similar traumas. It was during one of these routine examinations that she posed a question that struck at the heart of their relationship.
“Why do you care so much?” she asked, her voice filled with vulnerability. “I was your enemy. My country tried to destroy yours.” Leland sat at her eye level, removing the physical hierarchy that often existed between doctor and patient. “Because you are a human being,” he replied. “What was done to you was wrong. No person deserves to be tortured.”
A Moment of Healing
As he spoke, something shifted within Hannalor. The walls she had built began to crumble, and tears streamed down her face for the first time. Leland did not try to stop her; he simply sat with her, bearing witness to her pain. This release was a form of healing that no medication could provide.
The war in Europe ended on May 8, 1945. For the women at Camp Forest, the news brought mixed emotions. Some were eager to return home, while others feared what awaited them. Hannalor received her repatriation notice in August, informing her she would be transported back to Germany. She brought the notice to Leland during one of their walks in the garden behind the medical facilities, where they had forged a deeper connection.
As she handed him the notice, Leland felt a complex mix of relief and sorrow. He had grown attached to Hannalor, and the thought of her leaving weighed heavily on him. He wanted to give her something to carry with her—a reminder of their time together and the strength she had shown.
A Gift of Hope
From his jacket pocket, Leland produced a small notebook he had been filling with words of encouragement and practical information for her future. Inside, he had written about her strength, the progress she had made, and names of doctors in Germany who could assist her. When Hannalor opened the notebook, tears filled her eyes, but a smile began to form.
“I will never forget you,” she said simply. “You showed me that not everyone with power uses it to hurt. You saved my life, not just my body.” As she climbed into the transport truck, Leland waved goodbye, holding onto the moment until the vehicle disappeared down the road.
A Legacy of Compassion
Though Leland never heard from Hannalor again, her memory remained etched in his heart. The chaos of post-war Germany swallowed countless lives, and Hannalor became one among many whose fate remained unknown. Yet, Leland carried her story with him throughout his career as a country doctor, treating every patient with the same compassion he had shown her.
The story of Leland Caroway and Hannalor Sidel serves as a powerful reminder of the capacity for both cruelty and compassion within humanity. In the examination rooms of Camp Forest, ordinary people demonstrated that healing could transcend the boundaries of nationality and ideology. Their connection proved that mercy could extend even to former enemies, and that the simple act of treating someone with care could restore the dignity that brutality sought to destroy.
In the end, the greatest weapon against dehumanization is the insistence on seeing each person as fully human, worthy of care, healing, and hope. Leland’s unwavering commitment to compassion stands as a testament to the human spirit’s resilience, reminding us that even in the darkest times, kindness can prevail.
