Today
Your Source For The Latest In • High School • College • PSU
After war, winning the peace
Print
Share
Email to a friend
Add This
Article RatingThey were once bitter enemies out to kill each other.
The two patriots caught on opposing sides became fast friends decades later.
Sam Lombardo, now of Carlisle, was a first lieutenant leading a rifle platoon assigned to expand an American bridgehead over the Rhine River.
Artillery officer Jurgen Raths commanded the German batteries firing upon the now famous bridge at Remagen.
The crossing was momentous, because the Rhine was the last natural barrier to the heart of Germany and heavily defended late in the war.
It was just the right time for Second Platoon, Company I, of the 394th Infantry Regiment to send a clear message to the enemy.
For almost three months, Lombardo and his men gathered up shreds of fabric and, under combat condition, stitched together “Old Glory” on a white German surrender flag.
That flag became the first American flag to cross the Remagen Bridge and is now on display at the Infantry Museum at Fort Benning, Ga.
It was early March 1945. Nazi Germany was breached, peace was only two months away, but there was still plenty of fighting.
Forty-five years later, in October 1990, veterans of his platoon told Lombardo there was a special guest who wanted to meet him.
Lombardo was on a tour of Europe with other members of the 99th Infantry Division retracing the steps of the unit from the Battle of Bulge to Remagen.
Unknown to him, Raths had heard the story of the flag and decided to look Lombardo up, tracking his old enemy to the Ardennes forest in Belgium -- one stop on the tour.
Lombardo was surprised when a retired German colonel came up to give him a hug. Right away, there was mutual respect between the two men who shared the experience of being a World War II veteran.
Lombardo and Raths accepted each other as ordinary soldiers who fought for the countries they love.
“The war was long over. It was time to move on,” Lombardo recalls. “He never talked about his experiences ... I never talked about mine.”
Lombardo would learn later Raths was in front of him opposing his unit all the way from the Battle of the Bulge to Bavaria.
The 99th Infantry Division was in that southern region of Germany when the war ended in early May 1945. The platoon was then assigned to occupation duty.
Back to the bridge
In 1993, Lombardo and his wife, Jean, returned to Germany and stayed with Raths and his wife, Christine, at their home in Bonn.
The two men took a trip to Remagen, where Raths pointed out the location of the German artillery batteries atop a steep hill near Honnigen, south of the famous bridge.
Lombardo says artillery commanded by Raths fired on the bridge while the platoon was making the crossing.
Eventually, advancing U.S. Army units forced the German artillery to retreat off the hill, which Second Platoon then occupied during the battle.
For months leading up to the 1993 visit, Lombardo had prepared himself physically for the climb back up the hill.
At first, Raths stayed behind with other Germans to enjoy the view of the river.
Lombardo was about 50 yards up the logging path when he heard Raths shout, asking him to wait up. Lombardo suspects his friend was out of shape and hesitated to climb, but ego got the best of the German who did not want to be outdone.
Christmas wishes
For years afterwards, Lombardo would call Germany in April to wish Raths a happy birthday and Raths would return the favor in July, when Lombardo had his birthday.
Both men were born in the same year, but Raths was almost three months older and would joke about being the wiser of the two friends.
“He was a real super guy,” Lombardo says. “He was down-to-earth, honest and genuine.”
Both men made careers of the military.
Lombardo would later serve in Japan, Korea and Vietnam in intelligence operations and retire from the U.S. Army as a lieutenant colonel.
Raths would leave the artillery and rise through the ranks in the judge advocate general’s office of the post-war West German army.
Every year, Lombardo would call Raths on the holiday to wish his former enemy, now friend, a Merry Christmas.
Raths died in 2005.
Lombardo still sends a holiday card to Christine Raths.
Post-war friendships
Award-winning filmmaker Michael Marton recently interviewed Lombardo for a documentary on the first years of the Allied occupation of Germany following the war.
Lombardo says the focus is on the families of U.S. military who employed Germans as baby-sitters, housekeepers, gardeners, cooks, etc.
The film will show how Americans and Germans have preserved lasting memories of a time when former enemies came together on a daily basis so soon after the war, Lombardo says.
“The occupation produced a measure of good will and good feelings on both sides which have contributed to the growth and stability of democracy in Germany,” he adds. “We can call them our friends.”
In an e-mail to The Sentinel, Marton says he’s currently in Germany conducting interviews for his film, but it may be some time before the documentary is released.
“I am funding it with my own money,” Marton says.
For the interview, Lombardo told Marton how Company I was assigned to patrol 24 small towns and villages in southern Germany.
Food was scarce and conditions austere. The majority of German residents were women, children and old people. Most every male of war fighting age had been sent to the front.
There was acceptance on both sides as the Western Allies helped the Germans, who took a frugal and disciplined approach to recovery and reconstruction.
Aside from the native population, Company I had to guard secure compounds of displaced persons from other European countries brought to Germany to work as slave labor.
Though DPs were anxious to leave, their release had to be controlled to avoid chaos, Lombardo says: “We had to have some organization.”
Nasty looks
After patrol duty, Lombardo was assigned to Nuremberg, Germany, as a supervisor in charge of making repairs to the Palace of Justice, where the Nazi war crime trials were held.
While they got along with most Germans, Lombardo and his men had complete disdain for the 100 SS troopers assigned to clear away broken furniture and seal a roof damaged by Allied bombs.
An elite corps in the German war machine, the SS were hard-core Nazis with a reputation for atrocities, including the Malmedy Massacre during the Battle of the Bulge, in which Germans fired on unarmed U.S. Army prisoners of war.
There was a free exchange of nasty looks, but the SS troopers went about the task grimly and without complaint, Lombardo says. Besides, each German was guarded by two American soldiers.
“They were not going to get away with anything,” Lombardo says.
