Towards the end of World War II, deep within the American interior, six German Prisoners of War made a choice. Surrounded by fences and watchtowers, facing an uncertain future, they refused to surrender their humanity to the emptiness of captivity. Instead, they chose to create.
They gathered what little they had-scraps of paper, fountain pen ink, and fading memories—to forge a remarkable document: a 206-page illustrated diary compiled by individual men pooling their reflections. The resulting book-stewarded for decades by a dislocated Thüringer living near Lake Constance—is not a record of military strategy or politics: It is a testament to the resilience of the human spirit.
This exhibit invites you to step into a lost world preserved solely in their pages.
This is a journey that begins in the alien, thorny heat of Texas and leads to the snowy sugar beet fields of Montana. Through their sketches and words, you will meet men who built "buses" out of cardboard to travel in their imaginations. You will hear of a musician who practiced on a silent piano to keep his art alive, and of laborers who turned themselves into machines to survive the harvest. You will see how they used humor, nature and Christmas memories as shields against despair.
These are not just scenes from a prisoner of war camp; they are acts of defiance against oblivion. As one of the authors wrote: "We write to remember."
Walk with them. Listen to their voices. And witness how, even behind barbed wire, the mind remains free.
A native of Thuringia, Helmut Kaufmann was captured by Allied forces in October 1944. Over the next 16 months, he was transferred between prisoner of war camps across the United States from Boston to Texas to Idaho wherever labor was needed. In February 1946, Kaufmann was sent back to Europe, where he and tens of thousands of other German POWs were handed over to French or British authorities as forced laborers. Upon his release one month later, he traveled to Thuringia to locate relatives he hadn't seen for years. On the way, he was detained by the Volkspolizei (eastern German police in the Soviet-occupied zone) and turned over to Soviet authorities. Kaufmann spent the next 17 months in Soviet captivity, held first at facilities near Erfurt and Oranienburg (a suburb of Berlin), then in various locations within the Soviet Union. Weeks after the establishment of the German Democratic Republic, in October 1949, he was repatriated to East Germany through Frankfurt an der Oder. On 22 November 1949, he arrived in Pforzheim in West Germany, where he would build a new life.
Kaufmann, 1940
after his release, 1949
Kaufmann and his wife, 1980
"Texas! The heat is oppressive... The vegetation is strange and hostile. We call them 'Texasminen' (Texas Mines) - beware where you step!" - [Diary Entry, Image 24]
In 1943, the transport train stopped in the Texas heat. For the German prisoners, America was not just a foreign country, but an alien planet. The sketch on display shows the prickly pear cacti that grew everywhere around Camp Kenedy. Disoriented and thousands of miles from home, the prisoners projected their fear of war onto the very plants beneath their feet, describing the landscape itself as a weapon.
"Curtains made of toilet paper... a symbol of our desire for a little privacy and beauty. In the corner stands the 'Texas Express,' our bus to nowhere." - [Diary Entry, Image 49 & 50]
Barracks H.9 was a crowded, dusty wooden box. Yet, these drawings reveal a desperate attempt to maintain dignity. Look closely at the interior sketch: those "curtains" framing the window are made entirely of toilet paper rolls, crafted to soften the harsh light. And the "Texas Express"? It was a model bus built from scraps-a vehicle for their imagination that could take them anywhere but here.
"SENSATION! Grand Kick-off! Starring... The Ladies! (Note: Costumes made from sacrificed bed sheets)." - [Diary Entry, Image 39]
In an all-male camp, the absence of women was a constant void. To cope, the prisoners turned to theater and absurdity. The poster on the wall announces the "Sensation" of the soccer season. The accompanying sketch captures the surreal reality of that day: prisoners dressed in drag, walking arm-in-arm with "gentlemen." These costumes were stitched from stolen bed sheets-a grotesque parody that allowed laughter to briefly drown out the reality of the barbed wire.
"We built a 'Silent Piano' from wood and cardboard keys... practicing in silence so the fingers would not forget the music." - [Diary Entry, Image 55]
How do you keep art alive without tools? Artur Benz, a musician, feared his fingers would forget the touch of a piano. His solution was a masterpiece of pure will. He sat at a dummy keyboard made of cardboard, playing concerts that only he could hear. Alongside the mechanical ingenuity shown in the diagram of the "Rotating Christmas Tree," this proves that their culture was not just remembered it was engineered against the odds.
"Forward, back. Forward, back. Like a Yo-Yo on a string... The sun burns, the back aches. We are the Jo-Jo men." - [Diary Entry, Image 79]
The romance of the American West died in the beet fields of Montana. Here, the prisoners were defined strictly by their labor. They nicknamed their weeding tool the "Jo-Jo" (Yo-Yo) because of its endless push-and-pull rhythm. The caricature on display shows a prisoner bent double, physically fused with his tool. In the vast fields, they ceased to be individuals; they became rhythmic extensions of the agricultural machine.
"WANTED: Peter Schnurr. The Camp Cat. For theft of rations... Reward: 100 Cigarettes." - [Diary Entry, Image 45]
The diary documents life that crossed the barbed wire— both friend and foe. The humorous "Wanted Poster" for a cat named Peter Schnurr reveals the lighter side of camp life, treating a pet's theft of rations as a major crime. Yet, on other pages, scientific precision takes over, as seen in the detailed anatomy of the Anopheles mosquito. Every living creature became a subject of study to pass the empty hours.
Access the complete digitized collection of 200+ original documents:
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Read the full English transcript of the prisoners' diary:
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Related topic:
Educator Maria Bostelmann (née Holzgrewe) discovered by chance that her great-grandfather, Wilhelm Dreimann, was a guard at the Neuengamme concentration camp near Hamburg. Feared by the inmates, he was known as the “Executioner of Neuengamme.” Her family's process of integrating this previously unknown history can shed light for all of us who grapple with such skeletons in our ancestral inheritance. After initial shock, such experiences can deepen not only our understanding of larger family dynamics, but our appreciation for others' similar familial legacies and possible impacts of them.
Maria Bostelmann is not the only post-war German who has wondered "Were our ancestors perpetrators, victims, or bystanders during the Nazi dictatorship?" In this 2-part ZDF series, journalist, author, and television presenter Thilo Mischke delves into his own family history, alongside actress Katja Riemann and author Ronja von Rönne. What they discover is shocking, with implications for us all.
