by Bob Whelan
The picture below taken in late February 2019 shows two smiling faces together with a snowman in front of St. Louis Church in Pittsford, New York. The man, Bob Whelan, was, in 1945 an Armored Infantryman Private engaged as a point-man for an advancing Infantry Company involved in capturing the small town of Opladen in one of the last great battles of WWII – The Battle of the Ruhr Pocket. The woman, Christel Rinkleff, in1945, was a five-year old girl who lived in Opladen. She now lives in Henrietta, New York and attends St. Louis.
In mid-April 1945, the Company I was with was involved with taking Christel’s home town as our 9th US Army was advancing against 300,000 of the German Wehrmacht surrounded in the Ruhr Pocket. We were proceeding on foot against the Opladen defenders who were using every available means to stop us. As we moved up a broad meadow leading to the town, we were being bombarded with whatever the German’s could employ. It was another of the chaotic situations we were experiencing every day in that battle.
God was with me in all of this, as I had several close calls with enemy artillery and bullets. As we were getting near the town, a large turf covered shed appeared in front of us. I had the unenviable job of point-man and served as an advanced scout to explore enemy sanctuaries and suspicious houses. My Platoon Leader instructed me to advance to the building, open the door and determine if there were any enemy inside. Not an enviable task, but it had to be done, and people like me had to do it.
I quickly approached the building, stood to one side of the door, rifle in hand, ready to shoot if necessary. Thrust open the door, poked my head inside and was greeted by a screaming chorus of terror like you never heard before.
When I recovered my sensibilities, I could see in the far corner of the shed about 25 or 30 people of all descriptions huddled and shrieking at the tops of their lungs. No able-bodied men, no weapons, but, several elderlies of both sexes and about 15 children ranging from 3 to 12 huddled in a ball in the middle of that group. A sight that still lives in my mind. In the group of adults was a young woman of about 25 years who immediately confronted me and addressed me in English that she wanted to see the person in charge of this threat. I was amazed and her cool and courageous behavior.
She so impressed me that I ran as quick as I could to find the Lieutenant who sent me and have her meet with him. He came with me and assured her that we would not harm her and those inside the hut. With that she went back inside the hut and we moved on toward Opladen.
Fast forward to 2017. Christel and Bob met during activities at St. Louis Church in Pittsford. She had fallen on some ice outside a building nearby, and those of us in attendance came to her assistance. In the course of that chance meeting we became acquainted and, in our conversations, I learned Christel grew up in Opladen, and was there in April 1945 when we were involved with the incident described above.
She, at that time was only about five years old, and her memories, while horrific, were vague as to her whereabouts during that April day when we were advancing on her town. She could not recollect whether she was in the hut or not, but the terror and confusion was not forgotten. I’ll never know if she was one of those children huddled pitifully in the far corner, but the vision still lingers in my memory of children like her in my view. We’ll never know, but I can fully understand what they were experiencing at that time.
In any event, we were in the same situation at the same time. We just had different roles in the scene. We were enemies. Opposite sides at the same place and time.
I returned to the scenes of my WWII experiences in the summer of 2017, including the town of Opladen. My partner in that journey, Steve McAlpin, a Combat Veteran of both Afghanistan and Bosnia wars, was with me and took a picture of a meadow near Opladen which reminded me of the one of 1945.
The biggest part of that recollection was about the difference over 70 years had made. No longer young, no longer in different places. Places that had changed over time. Places that had changed from rejection to acceptance. We were together and at peace.
This picture was taken in 1945, a short time after the battle of the Ruhr Pocket as we were in the process of leaving Germany to come home and get ready to fight the Japanese. I am standing in the right-hand doorway.
The Snow Man
In the previous story an important component was the setting of the 2019 connection. In this case, the snowman in the front of St. Louis Church in Pittsford. It too, has a humorous side.
In March of 2019 a group of parishioners, with the blessings of their priests built a huge snowman smack dab in front of their church for all to see.
A statement of the beauty by taking what was considered by many burdensome and unwelcome and transforming it into something in keeping with the purpose of the church – shaping it into the image of a smiling person. Complete with the ashes of the Ash Wednesday celebration on its forehead.
There you have it. Lots of happy images in that snowman. A fitting background for a deep understanding of connection, humor, and its companion forgiveness.
Note: The f
ame of the Snowman has been spread by the Democrat & Chronicle. He has become recognized as a symbol of connection in Rochester. In effect, a true “Spirit of Rochester.”