Episodes of War: “Klaus” by Johanna Ruger (Published on 03/01/2025)
In a publication by Volksbund Deutsche Kriegsgräberfürsorge, Johanna Ruger tells the story of her half-brother Klaus, who was born in December 1946 and died in January 1947 (Johanna Ruger, “Klaus”, from: Volksbund Deutsche Kriegsgräberfürsorge e.V., Unter den Sternen – Weihnachtsgeschichten aus schwerer Zeit (2006), p. 186 f. [translation from German language]):
“In June 1945, we returned to East Prussia from Gdansk, where we had fled. There began a cruel time for us under the Russians. In East Prussia, we were outlaws as civilians: no food, no school, no protection. Then we were loaded like cattle and ended up in Pirna after a ten-day journey.
Winter had arrived, with cold weather but little snow. We didn’t know how to celebrate Christmas in 1946. We didn’t get any bread on those days either, only the people who still had the strength to work. We children were left to our own devices and looked for something to eat. We found potato peelings from the Russians, which we roasted on the open fire. We begged, and the little ones occasionally got a bit of bread, including my sister. She was eight years old and looked miserable.
On Christmas Eve, we children all stayed together and wanted to steal something to eat. We were very hungry. The magazine was found to be too well guarded after a reconnaissance patrol. So we tried Russian private homes where we saw lights on. We made noise at the window and distracted the occupants. Others sneaked into the house and it worked. Late at night, everyone had something to eat. That’s how you become a thief, driven by need. Happy to be fed after all and to be able to share with their mother, everyone ran towards their homes.
At that time, many women had children after being raped. Some died immediately, some were thrown away, or someone tried to preserve the tender life. One woman with three girls also tried to keep the boy alive. The daughters suffered greatly because they were sent by their mother to steal oats, from which slime was then cooked. The hundred grams of sugar that the mother received for her hard work with horse and plow was also given to the boy. These simple things became a drama back then.
Now the three of them arrived joyfully, carrying the stolen goods in their hands. It was dark in the parlor, the oven door was open, only the wood embers provided light. So the children found the mother with Klaus, as the boy was to be called. They put the potatoes in the embers of the oven, ate the chunks of bread, and by then it was Christmas night. They really did sing Christmas carols. Very tired, they snuggled up together, hoping to have a trouble-free night. It could happen that the Russians who had stolen from them took revenge.
On 25 December, the little one slowly began to die. The family had given everything so that he would live. On 26 December, the old man, this is how they called Mr. Fritz Fischer, came to baptize the little one, and they witnessed it and were very moved. Little Klaus died in January 1947 around noon, after he had already smiled at them.
This boy was my brother, the brave woman my mother.”
(Head picture: Landscape near Düsseldorf,
December 2022)
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