The Germans had retreated west of the Elbe, and we hadn’t been engaged in any fighting for a few days. On the 25th the morning had been foggy and damp, but by 11 the sun had come out. We lay blankets out on the grass, and the soldiers from the two countries, U.S. and Soviet–about 30 from each side–separated by a language barrier, found our own ways to communicate. Mainly, we drank a lot of vodka. The officers, of course, had their party in a nearby castle, but we soldiers just spread out blankets on the ground outside. But it was OK because it turned out to be a sunny, warm day.
Our soldiers didn’t speak English, of course, but there was one American who was a Pole, and he spoke some German, and a few of our guys spoke some German, so we communicated fine. There was no need for translators that day. Under those circumstances, and after all we had been through, everyone understood each other just fine. The idea that our two countries would then go on to wage a cold war for nearly 50 years was the furthest thing from anyone’s mind. It was inconceivable. Why would we think such a thing? We were just young soldiers, and we were on the brink of beating the fascists together. That’s what mattered that day, and in the reunions that we have held since then, that is what we have remembered.
Whelp and [a sister ship] were employed in picking up batches of these, mostly naval, prisoners from boats that had brought them from the shore. Having these unfortunate men aboard was an unnerving experience. They were weak and emaciated, and the sudden transfer from prison camp to the familiarity of a naval mess was clearly too much for them. They were immediately handed the inevitable cups of tea, and most of them just sat there with tears pouring down their cheeks. We were all equally moved and completely lost for words. Gradually, tongues were loosed, and hesitant conversation began.
