A Story of Hope and Survival

A Journey into Love, Resilience and Generosity!

Welcome to this edition of Liminal Walker Musings!

If you are a new subscriber, a special WELCOME! Gratitude to all of you that take a moment to stop by, I am delighted you are here.

Today I am going in a completely different direction than I normally do. Telling an important biographical story, one that I felt compelled to write. Please be gentle with me around this, it’s how I am processing and dealing with my grief.

The Journey

Some journeys we choose to take, some journeys arise naturally from the movements of living and other journeys are forced upon us…

It was 1944, Yugoslavia was a war-torn country both territorially and politically. Its people, the Serbs, Croats and Slavs, were locked in a bitter conflict. Nazi Germany and Fascist Italy the external Axis powers were fighting against Communist Russia, each seeking to maintain a grip on this fractured nation. Yugoslavia as the battle ground.

Amid this chaos, people tried to live their lives. But for many, those lives were turned upside down and changed forever. Among them was Franz, a fourteen-year-old lad. His family had been alerted that the red army was approaching. However, his father firmly believing in the sanctity of home, told Franz, “My son, we’ve done no harm to anyone. We live in peace, there is no need to flee.”

That belief was soon shattered. The communists had no intention of honoring such sentiments. To them all Germans, whether soldiers or civilians, were the enemy. Franz had to watch in horror as his father was brutally forced onto the back of an old truck. His father waving through the wooden slits as it disappeared into the distance. Franz knew deep down he would never see his father again. And he didn’t.

The next day the communists came for his older brother, Hans. Two days later they came for him and his mother, Elisabeth.

Franz and his mother were loaded into a truck, and after a full day journey with twenty other frightened individuals, they arrived at a dilapidated farm. The soldiers wasted no time. Franz was ordered to get out. They threw a blanket at him and told him to sleep in the horse stables with the other prisoners. His mother was taken elsewhere leaving Franz all alone.

That first night was more than a nightmare! The ground was hard, the straw scratchy, and lice feasted on his skin. But the worst part was the unrelenting fear of not knowing what had happened to his family and whether he would ever see them again.

The bell rang sharply at 5:00 am the next morning. Everyone had a job. Franz was ordered to tend to the horses, hitching them to a wagon to haul the hay, grain or whatever was being harvested that day.

Each meal, from the first on, served as a reminder of their misery. The soup, a little more than saltwater with a few beans floating in it. The bread, if it could even be called that, was dry and tasteless. All of this was hardly enough to keep a person alive. Franz often dreamed of his mother’s home-cooked meals. Hearty stews made from fresh vegetables from the garden. Yet it was at mealtime that Franz was the recipient of incredible generosity. Many of the elderly prisoners gave their food to the young. An incredible act of sacrifice that taught Franz an important lesson that would stay with him for a lifetime.

One morning, Franz did not hear the wake-up bell. He was jolted awake by an angry guard yelling, “Do you think you’re so special that you deserve an extra hour to sleep?” Franz shook his head, but the guard sneered, “If you think your special, here’s a treat for you.” The guard lashed out with a horsewhip, the leather stinging Franz’s body. Afterward, the guard warned, “If you pull this stunt again, you German swine, you will not live to see the next morning!” He never overslept again.

Every day the same routine. Every day questioning if his family was still alive. Every day he got skinnier. Every day his belt looser till it reached around to his back. Each day became weeks, eventually turning into twenty months. Yet through it all, Franz clung to hope. Hoping that one day, somehow, he would be reunited with his family.

Then that day finally arrived! Franz was working in the cornfields when someone tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey little brother,” Hans said, pulling him into a big hug. Two scrawny brothers, mostly skin and bone, reconnecting heart to heart.

Hans told Franz of an escape plan that he and their mother had organized. Hearing this Franz was overjoyed, their mother was still alive! Hans instructed Franz to meet them two night later, in the same spot after everyone had gone to sleep. He cautioned, “If we don’t show up before dawn, it means we have been captured and you will need to go back to the stables.” With big smiles on both their faces, the brothers parted ways and Franz returned to his work.

When it became time for his escape, waiting in the cornfield was agonizing. Franz was nervous, unsure if the plan would succeed. Yet eventually he heard a familiar voice in the distance, his brother’s. Franz rushed to meet them and immediately fell into his mother’s arms.

For the next few weeks, they traveled only at night, hiding during the day to avoid detection. They lived off whatever they could find, mostly green corn from the fields they came across.

When they reached the Romanian border, they attempted to sneak across. But they were immediately caught by the border guards and thrown into jail, where they would remain for two weeks awaiting trial. Even though he was imprisoned and parted from his family again, there was some comfort knowing they were nearby. And he had an actual bed to sleep on even if it was a thin mattress.

At trial, they were sentenced to an additional eight more weeks. Towards the end of their sentence Franz nearly died. During a mealtime he and nine others were given over-ripe tomatoes to eat. Out of hunger, everyone ate them. Unfortunately, Franz woke up the next morning with a fever and horrible cramps. Taken to the infirmary he was told he had dysentery.

Later that day Franz overheard a guard telling Hans that the nine other men were already dead, and that Franz would not survive the night. In that moment Franz was filled with an incredible will to survive. He dug deep and chose to live!

Soon after that, the day came when they were freed. Franz was still very ill, so his brother Hans and their mother supported him as they walked. Along the way, Franz felt something underfoot. When they stopped to investigate, they found a ring, a lifeline that would save Franz’s life. They traded it for a loaf of bread, which helped settle Franz’s stomach and gave him enough strength to push onward.

The journey continued, following the same pattern at the Hungarian border. They again were caught, jailed for a time, and then released. Finally, the next border to cross brought them into Austria. In 1946, two plus years later after their initial capture, they were free!

1) Franz 1950 2) Franz 1953 3) Franz & Anna 1955

Of course this is not the end of the story. It took them another year to adjust to life in Austria. They settled in immigrant housing, found work and slowly began to rebuild their lives. Over the next few years Franz found permanent work as a mason, a trade he would stay with the rest of his life. In 1953 he met Anna, a woman who was also from Yugoslavia, but had fled before the Communists came. They married in 1956 and together decided to move to the United States.

Fast Forward

Franz and Anna 1994

I met Franz thirty-five years ago and this post is in honor of a truly remarkable man. I had the privilege of not only knowing him, but he was also my father-in-law. Franz passed away on Monday, the 11th. That following morning, I woke up with a deep sense of mission, compelled to share his story.

Franz lived through some atrocious and brutal times, forced to embark on an unwelcomed journey to escape the horrors of war. How does one live with the scars and traumas afterwards? We all do this in our own unique and personal ways. Franz did this by opening to love, choosing it. Remembering the generosity that he received through it all by resolving to be kind and giving himself.

Rob, my husband, told me recently that when he was younger, Franz would click his fingers together and say, “I can go just like that.” Franz knew the many forms that death takes, always aware that it can come at any time. He chose to truly live life!

Franz loved life in a way I have rarely seen! He loved people and he loved his family! He embraced every moment with passion. Of course he had his moments, yet his natural expression was to focus on joy and celebrate life’s simple pleasures! His energy was contagious, everywhere he went he brought fun and lightness into everyday living.

My husband and I were fortunate to live close to Franz and Anna. Every time Franz was out in his car for whatever reason, he would take a route that brought him past our home. We would see him frequently drive by whether we were in our front yard or on walks. It was always comforting to see his smiling face and the wave of his hand.

The Schmidt clan 1996

Franz’s wild Easter egg hunts, 1998

And how he adored his grandchildren, and how they adored him. He would take them on adventures, just like he did with his own kids when they were younger. And oh, the escapades they had together!

Franz is survived by his wife Anna, his three children; Walter, Ursula and Rob, six grandchildren and two great grandchildren. We all live nearby and gathered that day of his passing. It was so beautiful to watch as each one said their goodbyes.

Auf Wiedersehen Franz, fare thee well. You are dearly missed and will forever be in my heart…

Franz and Katie 1994.

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