Most of the bridge at Remagen, Germany is gone, but there’s enough left to drive home the reality of war.
My father was seriously injured in World War II. It happened in a small town on the Rhine River in Germany in March 1945. Gen. Eisenhower said the bridge there was worth its weight in gold; it was a well built railroad bridge that could support war ending tanks and trucks and military supplies. The retreating Nazis wanted it destroyed but the Allied forces would have nothing of it.
The Battle at the Remagen Bridge lasted for one week. Americans started crossing the bridge on March 7 and Dad was wounded on March 10. He crossed the bridge in the middle of the night. There was artillery fire after crossing the Rhine. The next day, he and another guy were laying wire in the town. They strung wire on the flag poles outside each German home. Every home had a pole to hang a Nazi flag.
He received his Purple Heart on March 30. Books and movies have been made about this really significant battle that truly hastened the end of the world’s horror. It’s the stuff of Kelsh family legend.
When my brother Eric realized I was coming to Germany this week for the Photokina in Cologne with Samsung he got out his map. He sent me an email. Do you realize you’re going to be less than an hour away from where Dad was injured, he wrote? I did not, but my duty was clear.
After failed attempts to rent cars and hire drivers I bit the bullet and took a taxi with two other Samsung photographers. Steve Austin Moore from Georgia said he wouldn’t miss it for anything and graciously came along to document a son’s pilgrimage to the site of his father’s fateful battle. I will forever be grateful to him for this set of pictures.
Samsung photographer Steve Austin Moore came along to document This incredibly memorable pilgrimage for me.
We were there only a short time, but I knew this was a major moment in my life as I was documenting the wreckage.
It’s difficult to describe how I felt there. It was a mixture of immense pride and fear for the poor, innocent farm boy who found himself halfway around the world taking mortar fire. And I considered myself lucky, too. It was an unusual situation. I realized that most children of Purple Heart winners can never get back to the exact spot where it happened. I was practically able to put my finger on it. Bridge heads still mark where the bridge stood; it collapsed at the end of the battle and has never been rebuilt.
The towers of the bridge have been converted into a museum dedicated to peace.
Photographs inside the museum document the battle.
The bluff on the other side of the Rhine River where the other bridge heads still stand.
As I looked over the battle scene, it dawned on me that I wanted to bring something home for my boys and my siblings. For lack of anything better, I took off a sock and filled it with dirt which I will bring them later this week.
I filled a stock full of dirt from under the bridge to bring home to my sons and my siblings.
The other photographer that came with us is an Italian named Raffaele. Later that night he came to me to say what a privilege it have been to escort me to Remagen. It struck him as such an American experience. Americans, he said, put it all out there. It’s why people around the world still love them so much, he said. It’s what continues to make us a great country.
When we were at the bridge, Raffaele pointed out that the American flag was still flying over the bridge. I think I can confidently say that photograph would’ve been my father’s favorite taken by my new friend, Steve Moore that wonderful and profound day.
Today, families peacefully picnic where the bridge used to span the river.
Postscript
Yesterday a surreal situation played out in our garage. I had Alexander and Teddy fill little tiny corked bottles with the dirt to give to all the relatives as keepsakes. It’s a little difficult to imagine that the farm boy from Wisconsin could have even dreamt of that scene.
There were his grandchildren lovingly preserving battle field dirt—that his son brought home from a friendly trip to the land of the enemy—wearing the bright red German soccer warm-up suits I bought them as gifts. Germany is their favorite team.
Alexander and Teddy putting German soil into little bottles to give to family and friends as keepsakes of my father’s World War II contribution.
