Like most veterans, Josh von Windheim takes time out every Nov. 11 to remember the sacrifices of his comrades.
“I think about all the people who helped me get out of the mess,” said the Second World War veteran.
He pauses to think specifically of members of his own contingent, who cared for him “like a baby” when he fell ill with malaria and put themselves in danger to ensure he made it to a hospital.
“This crew was stuck to me like glue,” he said. “These are the people I think about.”
His experiences and sentiments could be classified as typical of many Canadian veterans – except for one detail: von Windheim was a member of the German army.
Now 88, he said he was taken aback recently when, over six decades after the end of the war, someone asked if he was once a Nazi.
That, clearly, was never the case.
In fact, von Windheim volunteered for the army specifically to avoid the type of horrific crimes and genocide for which the fascist regime led by Adolf Hitler was known.
That may sound odd, but von Windheim, who was a 14-year-old student at one of the leading boarding schools in Germany at the time war broke out in 1939, felt he had little choice.
In 1941, Heinrich Himmler, chief of the Nazi Party’s Schutzstaffel (“protective squadron”) – better known as the Waffen SS or simply the SS – began taking over boarding schools to recruit SS officers.
“Under no circumstances did I want to be part of it,” von Windheim said, his voice cracking with emotion and his eyes welling with tears.
His mother, who worked for the German Red Cross, had relayed stories of the despicable crimes committed by the SS.
“I swore to my mother that I’d rather be court marshalled than take part in atrocities against civilians,” he said.
So instead, at age 17, he volunteered for the German army because he felt it was “clean” – at least in comparison to the SS.
He joined an anti-tank unit in 1943, and one year later was already helping to train new recruits. His first experience on the front line was certainly no easy task.
It was the summer of 1944 in southern Russia, around the time Russia started “Operation Bagration,” a huge offensive against Axis forces in Russia and Poland.
The offensive resulted in what one historian has called “the most calamitous defeat of all the German armed forces in World War II.”
Around that time von Windheim fell ill with malaria and jaundice and was removed from the front lines. When he arrived back at the German base, he was shocked to find only about two people out of his unit of 800 were known to still be alive.
“You see a lot [in war],” von Windheim said emotionally.
Looking back, he considers himself lucky for getting sick, because it likely saved his life.
Once recovered, his superiors made it clear they wanted him to take special training to become an officer.
“From what I’d seen of German officers in action … I didn’t want to be part of that group,” he said.
von Windheim, who said his family had a long history of serving Prussian kings, was steadfast in his refusal to become an officer, so German officials instead handed him perhaps the most dangerous army assignment of all: the Baltic encirclement in Latvia.
By autumn of 1944 the Russian offensive had completely encircled a section of the German army, whose only access to supplies and reserves was via the Baltic sea.
In January, 1945 von Windheim was wounded and he again was granted a reprieve.
“By the grace of God and people who had human feeling, I was shipped back [to Germany],” he said.
His medical leave was no cinch either, as the combination of his wounds and respiratory problems nearly killed him.
But by March he had recovered and faced another difficult decision.
“It was either disappear in the woods or go back … one was as dangerous as the other,” he recalled.
He decided to return to his unit, where at least he had a fighting chance to stay alive, which was not the case had he been caught as a deserter.
His last assignment was north of Berlin but about two months later, in May, the Germans surrendered.
After briefly serving British troops at a prisoner of war camp (because he could speak English) von Windheim was “processed” and returned home.
He said any euphoria about the end of the war was quickly tempered by feelings of helplessness.
“During the war we lost everything due to Allied bombings in central Germany,” von Windheim said of his family.
All he had to his name was his military uniform, and that was quickly destroyed because German tank division uniforms were black, similar to those warn by the SS, and von Windheim wanted to avoid any confusion.
“It was chaos,” he said of Germany at the end of the war.
“It was the feeling of you survived, but what’s coming on now?”
He worked on a few farms over the next three years and also took apprenticeships in agriculture, food processing and importing/exporting.
At one point he and a friend started a farm in South America and in 1953 von Windheim went to Africa, where he held various jobs.
In 1965 he returned with his wife Gerda (they were married in 1954 in Africa) to Germany to raise their three children.
“That was a mistake for political and other reasons,” he said. The couple thought about moving to Australia but eventually settled on Canada.
“We haven’t regretted it for a day,” he said smiling.
It was during the move to Canada that Gerda convinced him to use the name Josh – because it sounded more Canadian – instead of his given name, Jobst.
He worked in Toronto for a few years before the family settled on a farm between Brucedale and Rockwood in what is now Guelph-Eramosa Township.
He also worked for Culligan for 32 years, while Gerda taught parks and recreation courses at the University of Guelph for three decades.
In 1998 von Windheim retired and sold the farm. He and Gerda, who died last year, lived in Arkell for two years before settling in Eden Mills, where von Windheim still resides.
He is very open about his wartime experiences, though some people still make the odd negative comment when they hear his story.
“But I don’t blame them, because they have never lived in an authoritative state,” he said, adding the full history is not taught to students.
“People don’t know what it was like … they have no idea what we did to resist Hitler,” von Windheim said, again growing emotional.
“That is what I think is wrong.”
He explained his experiences often leave him feeling isolated.
“I lost the connections,” he said. “I have nobody I went through it with.”
And yet he continues to tell his story – because it is an important one to relay … and to remember.
