harry haines

As we moved into the West side of Volary my gunner blurted on the (radio) intercom "some of our guys are trying to get into a wooden building at our right front – that building with the fence around it." I said to Penny (my driver) "let’s go over there and knock a hole in that fence." We did.

Moments later a dogface ran over to my tank and told me "Lieutenant this is a concentration camp full of Jewish girls." I replied with a peculiar comment that escapes my memory now. Maybe it was "no shit." But I was startled. (At that moment we thought we had captured a Konzentrationslager but we later learned it was a worker’s barracks at a sawmill -- the South Bohemian Wood and Furniture factory.)

My gunner and I climbed out of our tank and entered the building. It was more like a barn than a building, if I remember correctly, with wide, tall doors. No lights inside and it was dim. The barracks contained perhaps 20 or 25 double-deck bunks built against the walls. Starving girls were everywhere, two and three at each level and some on the floor. Years later I learned their average weight was 82 pounds.

The stench of death, urine, and feces – from people who couldn’t move and were dying – plugged my nose. We didn’t stop and stare. One medic told me not to touch or move anyone. I might kill them. We hurried outside into the fresh air. My platoon and the infantry were waiting on me, to finish the war. We abandoned the girls, just like the SS who had dumped them.

War can inflict strange emotions on a young officer, who is only concerned about the welfare of his men and staying alive. I felt no pity or remorse about the young ladies then. Today I cannot talk to one of the girls without crying. And I felt, in their honor, that the world should know about this tragedy. For the past two years I have been making a pilgrimage to Volary and will return a third time.

A Half Century Later

Celebration of the 50^th anniversary of V-E Day was going to be a big thing at Normandy. But I wanted to go to Volary, where the war ended for me. I will regret forever that I postponed my trip until 1996, for business reasons. The girls (die Mädel) held a reunion, unknown to me, and I missed seeing 23 of them on May 5, 1995.

When I returned from my first trip in 1996 a telephone message was waiting for me that said "My name is Bernard Robinson. I live in L.A. and I married one of the Volary girls. Call me". I did, and I cried when I talked to Mary. (The Mayor of Volary had written to Bernard telling him I had been one of the men who liberated the village on May 5.)

Now, another wonderful coincidence. During my trip in 1997 the Mayor (on my last day) asked me "what time are you leaving today?". I replied, "oh, about 2 o’clock." He informed me that Gerda Klein just called from Prague and said she was coming to Volary with her husband, children, and grandchildren and would arrive at approximately 2:00 PM. You know damn well I stayed over and had lunch with the group. We finished eating and started to go outside. I cried, when I told Gerda how pitiful they looked when I last saw them.

The next situation is fact, not fiction. When I decided to go to Germany and the Czech Republic, to follow the path of my tank tracks, planning the trip was difficult. Our battalion history only named a few cities and did not give an exact combat route of "C" company. Someone suggested I look for a history book of the 2^nd Regiment, Fifth Infantry Division. Our company was attached to this regiment. It worked.

Several phone calls later I was talking to Gerald Heffernan who sold Xerox copies of the out of print book. I asked him if he was in Volary with me on May 8. He said he was. Then I asked him if he remembered the Jewish Girls. Gerald replied "I sure do, and I wish I could meet those crazy tankers who knocked that fence down so we could get into that building". I told Jerry "you are talking to one of those crazy son-of-a-bitches. That was my tank."

A year later I met Gerald at a Division Reunion (my first one) and we are now good buddies and blood brothers. At these reunions you meet guys you never knew before who may have been on the back of your tank for 5 or 10 miles. But we all remember what we did together, when, and where.