“You Are Still Nurses” – German Women POWs Shocked by How America Treated Them

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The Healing Journey of German Nurses: A Story of Compassion and Redemption

In June 1945, a gray troop ship rocked against the waves of the Atlantic Ocean, carrying 147 German women—nurses, prisoners, and enemies of the most powerful nation on Earth. For 11 long days, they had been trapped in darkness, plagued by fear and uncertainty. Would they be punished for their past? Would they be starved or made to disappear? Among these women was 23-year-old Hannah Claner from Berlin, who carried a small notebook filled with the names of the 312 soldiers she had watched die on the Eastern Front. She wondered if her name would soon be added to someone else’s list.

As the ship slowed and the engines fell silent, a voice crackled over the loudspeaker announcing their arrival. The women climbed to the deck, and through the morning haze, they saw the skyline of New York City—the heart of the enemy. Armed guards lined the gangplank, and dread filled their hearts. This was it; the punishment was about to begin. But then, something unexpected happened. A woman in an American military uniform stepped forward and spoke to them in German. What she said next would shatter everything they had been told about Americans.

Colonel Margaret Harper, a senior officer in the U.S. Army Nurse Corps, greeted the German nurses not with hostility, but with compassion. “You are prisoners of war,” she said, “but you are also nurses. You will be sent to military hospitals across the United States to assist in the care of wounded American soldiers. You will be treated with respect.” The women stood in shock. This was not the cruelty they had been prepared for; this was kindness.

The women were guided toward Red Cross ambulances and civilian buses, not prison trucks or armored transports. As they drove north into New Jersey, they marveled at the untouched landscape—green trees, neat houses, and children playing in yards. Everything looked so peaceful compared to the destruction they had left behind in Germany. Hannah pressed her forehead against the cool glass, reflecting on the bombed-out neighborhoods of Berlin and Dresden, where she had witnessed unimaginable horrors.

Upon arriving at a military processing center, the German nurses underwent medical examinations conducted by American nurses. There was no roughness or humiliation; instead, they were treated with professionalism. Afterward, they were given new uniforms—American nurse uniforms that fit them perfectly. For the first time in months, they felt human again.

The nurses were then treated to a hearty meal of roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and warm apple pie. As Hannah took her first bite, tears rolled down her cheeks. She was not crying from sadness, but from the overwhelming realization that someone had fed her like a human being. Around the room, other women were crying too, touched by the kindness they had never expected from their captors.

The following morning, the nurses learned their assignments. They would be sent to hospitals across the country to care for wounded American soldiers—men who had fought against Germany. This was not a gift; it was a test. The nurses understood that their actions in the coming weeks would determine whether they could bridge the divide between enemies and become something more.

The trains left New Jersey on June 15, 1945, carrying the German nurses to various military hospitals. Hannah’s train headed west toward Kansas, where she would work in a ward for amputees. As she entered the hospital, she was met with the gaze of American soldiers who had fought against her country. One man, a sergeant with both legs amputated, spat on the floor and expressed his disdain for having a German nurse. The tension in the room was palpable.

Despite the hostility, Hannah focused on her work. She changed bandages and monitored patients, determined to provide the best care possible. On the fifth day, she noticed that the young private with the missing arm, whom she had cared for since her arrival, was running a fever due to an infection. Hannah worked tirelessly to bring his temperature down, and when he finally opened his eyes and thanked her, it marked a turning point. It was the first time an American soldier had expressed gratitude to her.

Meanwhile, in California, Anna Weber worked in a burn ward at a naval hospital. The patients there were Marines who had suffered horrific injuries during the Pacific battles. Anna had witnessed the devastation of war firsthand, having treated burn victims in Dresden. On her third day, she assisted in surgery, impressing the exhausted American surgeon with her steady hands and skill. Their shared experiences of trauma created an unspoken bond between them.

In Illinois, Lizel Hartman worked with soldiers learning to walk again with prosthetic legs. Among them was Sergeant William Crawford, who had lost both legs at the Battle of the Bulge. Initially hostile, he eventually recognized Lizel’s patience and dedication. After a successful rehabilitation session, he expressed his changing feelings, acknowledging that war had made liars of everyone.

As the weeks went by, the animosity began to fade. The German nurses proved their worth through their hard work and compassion. They were no longer just enemies; they became allies in the struggle for recovery. In Kansas, Hannah arrived one morning to find a cup of coffee waiting for her, accompanied by a note of thanks from the young private she had cared for.

In California, Anna received heartfelt gratitude from the Marine she had cared for, while Lizel was gifted a chocolate bar by her patients, who pooled their cigarette rations to buy it. These small gestures of kindness transformed the atmosphere in the hospitals, illustrating that even in the aftermath of war, humanity could prevail.

By Christmas 1945, the lines between captor and captive had blurred significantly. The German nurses were no longer viewed solely through the lens of their nationality; they were seen as individuals who had chosen to care for others, regardless of their past. Over 89% of American patients reported positive interactions with their German caregivers, and many maintained correspondence long after their hospital stays.

In early 1946, the question arose about what to do with the German nurses. The American military faced a moral choice: send them back to a devastated Germany or allow them to remain where they were needed. Colonel Harper submitted a report recommending that the nurses be allowed to stay, citing their professionalism and the essential care they provided to American soldiers. Her recommendation was approved, and the nurses were permitted to remain in the United States.

As the nurses continued their work, they experienced profound transformations. Hannah wrote to her sister in Berlin, expressing her newfound understanding of Americans: “I came here believing they were cruel. I was wrong. I have seen more kindness in this enemy nation than I ever saw in my own.” Lizel echoed similar sentiments, recognizing that the American soldiers reminded her of why she had become a nurse in the first place.

Anna Weber kept Thomas Garrett’s Purple Heart medal close to her heart, a symbol of the bond they had formed. She later returned it to his family, signifying the deep connection they had shared despite being enemies in war.

The story of these 147 German nurses is not widely known, but it reveals a powerful truth: compassion, not conquest, wins the longest wars. They arrived in America expecting punishment but found kindness instead. They learned that pain knows no nationality, and in their shared suffering, they discovered the humanity that lay beneath their uniforms.

In the end, the greatest weapon was not the bombs or bullets, but the ability to see the humanity in those they had once considered enemies. The German nurses who crossed the Atlantic in June 1945 transformed their roles from captives to caregivers, proving that even in the darkest times, healing and understanding can prevail over hatred and division. Their legacy reminds us that compassion can bridge even the widest chasms, and that forgiveness can heal the deepest wounds.