Show Us Your Feet – The Unexpected Demand That Left German Women POWs Perplexed…

Show us your feet. The German women freeze. This wasn’t in the propaganda. Rin P camp. April 1945. Rain hammers the tin roof like machine gun fire. 47 German auxiliary women stand in the processing tent. Their signals operators, clerks, nurses captured three days ago during the Rine crossing.

The American sergeant repeats it. Boots off, socks off. Show us your feet. Ingred is 23, vermocked auxiliary. She’s been wearing the same boots for 4 months. The leather has fused to her skin in places. She knows what happens when armies capture women. But feet? This makes no sense. Was Volenzy Worksh? What do they really want? That’s what she whispers to Greta beside her. Greta is 19.

She’s been walking for 3 weeks straight, retreating from the Eastern Front, then captured by Americans. Her feet are screaming, but she won’t show weakness. The sergeant isn’t alone. There are medics, actual medical corps with clipboards examining equipment. This looks medical. Quick question. Drop a comment below.

What country are you watching from? Because what happens next changed how we think about enemy treatment forever. 15,000 German women auxiliaries were captured in 1945. Only 2% expected this specific request. They expected interrogation, violence, humiliation, not feet. The mud squaltches as the first woman steps forward. Hannah, 31, senior auxiliary.

If someone must go first, she’ll protect the younger ones. She sits on the wooden bench, unlaces her boots. The leather is stiff with dried mud and something else. Blood, maybe. She pulls. The boot resists. Four months of moisture and sweat have created a seal. Finally, it comes off. The smell hits immediately.

Rotting leather. Infected flesh. Something worse. She peels down her sock. It sticks. Pulls. Takes skin with it. The American medic steps forward. He’s young, maybe 20. He leans down to examine, takes one look, and gasps. Not from disgust, from medical alarm. Jesus Christ, get the sulfa now. The other women watch, confused.

Why would Americans care about German feet? Why would they waste medical supplies on enemies? But the medic is already working, calling for supplies, warm water, bandages, antibiotics. The first woman removes her boots and the American medic gasps. Ingred’s feet are destroyed, trench foot so severe the skin peels off with her socks.

The flesh underneath is black, gray in places. The toes are swollen to twice normal size. When the medic touches them gently with a cotton swab, she doesn’t feel it. The nerves are dead. How long? He asks through the translator. Since January? 4 months. Four months of marching in wet boots. Never removing them. Never drying her feet. Orders were to keep moving. Always moving.

Trench foot killed more German soldiers than gas attacks in World War I. In 1945’s final months, 75,000 cases were reported. That’s just the ones who got treatment. I can’t walk anymore. Ingred says it like a confession, like admitting defeat. In the Vermacht, soldiers who couldn’t march were left behind. She’s been hiding this for weeks.

The medic calls others over. We need a full medical team now. They examine the next woman. Worse, the one after that, catastrophic. 90% of these women have severe foot infections. Trench foot gang green starting, embedded debris, untreated wounds. The retreat from the Eastern Front was 300 miles on foot. No stops, no medical care. The smell fills the tent.

Rotting flesh mixed with leather and fear. Greta watches them examine woman after woman, each revelation worse. She presses her feet harder into her boots, hiding her own secret. The American medics aren’t recoiling, aren’t disgusted. They’re concerned. One is taking notes rapidly. Another is organizing supplies. A third is heating water over a portable stove. Priority cases first, the head medic.

Anyone with blackened tissue, then infections, then wounds. They’re triaging like these are their own soldiers. Maria 18 removes her socks. The toes on her left foot are black. Frostbite from the winter retreat. She’s been walking on dead tissue for 2 months. The medic examining her is older, maybe 40.

He’s seen combat wounds, but this makes him pause. This should have been amputated weeks ago. No doctors, Maria says simply. No time. He marks her chart. Immediate care needed. But the Americans don’t recoil in disgust. They call for something unexpected. Get the sulfa powder. All of it. And warm water now.

The American medics transform the tent into a field hospital. Tables appear. Medical supplies stack up. More personnel arrive. They’re treating enemy feet like a medical emergency. Sulfa powder, the miracle drug. It costs $100 per pound in 1945, more than a soldier’s monthly pay. The medics are pouring it onto German feet like water or medit.

Why waste medicine on us? Hannah asks the translator. She’s watching them use supplies that German forces haven’t seen in years. Fresh bandages, iodine, morphine for the worst cases. Because you’re patients now, the medic says, not enemies, patience. They use 50 lb of sulfa powder that day. $5,000 worth on German prisoners, women who were typing orders for Vermach command last week. The warm water is a shock.

Most haven’t washed their feet in months. The dirt and blood dissolve, revealing damage underneath. Every basin turns black within seconds. Ingred gasps as they soak her feet. The warmth is painful and wonderful simultaneously. The medic is gentle, careful. He’s treating dead tissue like it might recover. This might sting, he warns through the translator.

The iodine burns, but it’s a clean burn, medical healing. Not the rot she’s been living with. They work in teams. One washing, one treating, one bandaging. Assembly line efficiency, but with personal care. Each woman gets 20 minutes minimum proper treatment. The medical officer arrives. Major Harrison. He surveys the scene.

How bad? Worst trench foot I’ve seen since Bastonia. We need more supplies. Get them. No hesitation. No questioning the waste on enemies. Just get them. Why treat enemy feet with such urgency? The reason isn’t mercy alone. Greta is still standing, still wearing her boots. The medic notices. You too. Boots off.

She shakes her head. I’m fine. That wasn’t a request. She backs away slightly. Can’t. Won’t. The secret in her boots is worse than infection. The other women are getting treatment. Looking relieved. Some crying from the simple act of warm water on damaged feet. One woman refuses to remove her boots. She’s hiding something worse.

Greta has been walking on broken glass embedded in her feet for 3 weeks. She finally sits, unlaces her boots with shaking hands. The medic waits patiently. He’s seen reluctance before. Usually means something bad. The boot comes off. Blood has dried it to her foot. Fresh blood seeps immediately. She peels down the sock. It’s more blood than fabric. Glass.

pieces of shattered window still embedded. She stepped through a destroyed shop window during the retreat. No time to stop. No medical care. Keep walking or get captured by Soviets. The medic stares counts. At least 30 visible shards. How long? 3 weeks. 300 m on glass. Every step driving shards deeper. During pain was my friend. She says it matterof factly.

Pain meant she was still alive, still moving, still ahead of the Soviet advance. The medic calls for surgical tools. This isn’t just washing. This is extraction. He needs tweezers. Scalpel, local anesthetic, if they have it. 60% of German auxiliaries had untreated wounds. They walked an average of 300 m during the retreat. No medical stations, no supplies.

Vermacht command had abandoned them. The medic starts extracting glass. Each piece clinks into a metal pan. 1 2 5 10. The pile grows. Greta doesn’t flinch. Can’t show weakness even now. Even to enemies showing kindness. 20 pieces. 25. Some are deep. Require cutting to access. The medic is sweating from concentration. This must have been agony. She doesn’t respond.

What’s the point? Yes, it was agony. Every second, every step, but stopping meant death or worse. 37 pieces total. The pan looks like a broken mirror. Blood pools on the floor. The medic works to stop bleeding. Pressure. Gauze. More sulfa powder. Then something unexpected happens. The medic removing glasses, crying. Tears.

Actual tears rolling down his cheeks as he works. Greta notices. Can’t understand. Why would an American cry for German pain? Why? She asks in broken English. Why tears? He looks up, meets her eyes. The medic removing glass is crying. And Greta notices why. The medic, Private Johnson, lost his sister to infection. Could have been prevented. Stepped on a nail, he says, while working on Greta’s feet. Back home in Iowa, 1943.

No penicellin available. Went to war effort. She died from something we could have fixed. He’s 19. Joined the medical corps because of her death. Swore to never let preventable infections kill anyone. Enemy or not. That’s why we check feet. Infection spreads. Kills more than bullets. Error. White for Zenon. Find. He cries for his enemy.

Greta whispers it in German. Can’t process it. An American crying for German suffering while treating German wounds. The US Army mandates foot inspection twice daily. It reduced casualties by 40% compared to World War I. Lessons learned in blood. Trench foot destroyed entire divisions in 1918. Mobility equals survival, Johnson explains. Can’t fight if you can’t walk. Can’t retreat if you can’t run.

Feet matter more than weapons. He finishes extracting the last glass. starts the careful process of cleaning, disinfecting, bandaging, preventing infection stops epidemics. That’s the answer. One untreated foot can spread gang green through an entire camp. P’s guards, everyone at risk.

We learned at Andersonville, the translator explains, civil war. P camps became death camps from disease. Never again. Greta watches him work. Gentle hands despite being enemies four days ago. He probably shot at Germans, maybe killed them. Now he’s saving German feet. Comment below what year are you watching this? Because this moment still appears in medical textbooks.

The other women are getting similar treatment. Each medic working carefully. Some are teaching German women basic foot care. How to prevent trench foot. How to spot infection early. Change socks twice daily when possible. Dry feet completely. Massage to restore circulation. Simple advice that could have saved thousands.

Maria, the one with frostbite damage, is being prepped for surgery. They’ll try to save what they can. American surgeons working on German feet. The tent smells different now. Less rot, more antiseptic, medical. Clean. Johnson finishes with Greta. Her feet are wrapped in white bandages. Clean. Professional. She hasn’t seen white bandages in 2 years.

Then the women notice something else. Then the women notice something else. American nurses are washing German feet. American WX nurses kneel before German prisoners. Washing feet like a biblical scene. Lieutenant Sarah Mitchell, Boston, Irish Catholic. She’s on her knees in mud, washing the feet of a Vermach signals operator.

The German woman is crying, not from pain. From the intimacy of the gesture, footwashing. In European culture, it’s profound. Christ washing disciples feet. Ultimate humility, service, love. Vristus like Christ. The German women whisper it. Watch. American women, their enemies. Kneel before them. Wash infection and blood and dirt. Gentle hands. Warm water. No disgust.

50 American nurses treating 470 German women working 18-hour shifts. They could be processing male PWs. Easier, less infected, less damaged. They chose this. Ingred watches a nurse clean between her dead toes. Careful, thorough. The nurse is maybe 25. Pretty could be home in America.

Instead, she’s here washing enemy feet. Why? Ingred asks in English. She learned some before the war. Because you need it, the nurse says simply. No politics, no mention of war. Just you need it. The warm water runs black, then brown, then red. Finally clear. First time in months. The nurses change water constantly, fresh for each woman.

dignity in cleanliness. Greta sees something extraordinary. A nurse removes her own boots, shows her feet, also damaged, also scarred. Marching through France, Belgium, Germany. American feet aren’t immune to war. We’re all the same, the nurse says, just feet. Will this kindness have consequences? The German women are breaking. Propaganda walls crumbling. Everything they were told about American brutality. Lies.

Some are sobbing openly now. Not from pain. From kindness they don’t deserve, can’t deserve. They’re the enemy. One nurse is singing softly while she works. A hymn. Amazing grace. Some German women know it. Lutheran backgrounds. They start humming along. Enemies humming together while feet are washed. The scene is surreal.

Apocalyptic war outside. Bombing continues in the distance. Artillery rumbles. But here in this tent, women wash women’s feet. Then tension breaks. One German auxiliary stands up suddenly. Elsa, 19, blonde, perfect Aryan features Hitler youth leader. But one German auxiliary, a former Nazi youth leader, stands up and says something shocking. This is propaganda. You’re filming this. It’s not real. Ilsa stands defiant.

Her feet are bandaged, but her ideology isn’t. 8 years of Hitler youth. 8 years of racial theory. Jews are parasites. Americans are mongrels. This kindness must be fake. The tent goes silent. 46 German women hold their breath. You want us weak, grateful. Then the cameras turn off and she doesn’t finish. Can’t say what she thinks comes next. What she’s been taught comes next.

Alice isola. Everything is a lie. She’s talking to the other German women now, warning them, don’t fall for it. Don’t believe, stay strong, stay Nazi. 87% of German youth auxiliaries were in Hitler youth. Average propaganda exposure, eight years, daily intensive. Jews are evil. Americans are controlled by Jews.

This must be Jewish tricks. Lieutenant Mitchell, the nurse washing feet, stands slowly. Faces, Ilsa. No cameras, she says calmly. No propaganda, just medicine. Lies, Ilsa spits. You’re all Jews and communists. We know what you really want. The other German women are uncomfortable. Some agree with Ilsa but won’t say it. Others are starting to doubt. The kindness feels real.

The medicine is real. The pain relief is real. Mitchell doesn’t argue, doesn’t defend, just keeps working, returns to washing feet. But Elsa isn’t done. They’ll rape us, kill us after they get what they want. Private Johnson speaks up. What we want is to prevent epidemic. That’s all. More lies.

The confrontation is escalating. Some German women edge away from Elsa. Others move closer. Division forming. Believers and doubters. Greta watches from her bench. Her feet wrapped in American bandages. Glass extracted by American hands. She’s confused. The pain is gone. First time in weeks. That’s real. Show them, Elsa demands of the nurses. Show them who you really are.

The tension cracks like electricity. Everyone waiting. What happens when American patience ends? When kindness stops. Lieutenant Mitchell makes a decision. She walks to Elsa, stands face to face, then does something no one expects. The American nurse’s response changes everything. She rolls up her sleeve. The nurse shows numbers tattooed on her arm.

She’s a Holocaust survivor treating Nazis. A734 Awitz Rebecca Mitchell not Irish Catholic Jewish Polish escaped in 1939. Family didn’t. Parents, sisters, grandparents, all dead, gassed, burned by Germans. The tent is absolutely silent. 47 German women stare at the numbers. The proof. The thing they were told didn’t exist. I wash your feet, Rebecca says quietly.

because I choose to be better than what was done to us. My god, was Havatan. My god, what have we done? Hannah whispers it. The senior auxiliary. She’s 31, old enough to remember before Hitler. Old enough to know this is real. Rebecca continues working, kneels back down, resumes washing Ilsa’s infected feet.

The 19-year-old Hitler youth leader is frozen, can’t move, can’t speak. Brainbreaking. 1,000 Holocaust survivors served as US military medical personnel. They treated German PSWs, Japanese PS, the people who destroyed their families. “Your feet need care,” Rebecca says while working. “Infection doesn’t care about politics.” Ilsa is shaking now.

Everything she believed, everything she was taught. “Jews are parasites. Jews are evil. Jews are washing her feet, saving her feet after Germans murdered her family. The other German women are crying. Some fall to their knees. Not ordered, voluntary. The weight of realization crushing them. We didn’t know, Maria says.

You knew, Rebecca responds. Not cruel, just factual. You just didn’t want to know. Yes, this kindness has consequences. It’s destroying them from inside, breaking their world view. Everything was lies. Everything. Greta stares at her bandaged feet. Jewish hands treated them. Jewish medicine saved them after Germans tried to exterminate Jews.

Why? Elsa finally speaks barely a whisper. Why help us? Because hatred is a poison, Rebecca says. It kills the one who carries it. I choose not to carry it. She finishes washing Ilsa’s feet, stands, looks at all of them. Your feet are treated. Your infections will heal. What you do with that health is your choice. The revelation hangs in the air.

Holocaust survivor treating Holocaust enablers. Elsa collapses to her knees, not ordered, but voluntary. Elsa kneels before Rebecca, sobbing. I didn’t know. I didn’t know. But she did know. They all did. The trains, the disappearances, the smoke. They knew and chose not to see.

“We were told you were evil,” Hilsa gasps between sobs. “That you were destroying Germany. That you were human,” Rebecca finishes. “We were human. That’s all. We are Warren demonstr.” Greta says it out loud. The others nod. Yes, they were the monsters. following orders, typing reports, sending messages, enabling genocide. The emotional breakdown is total.

47 German women confronting truth through the simple act of foot care. Their feet are being healed by people they helped destroy. 73% of German women PS reported foot treatment as the moment that changed their view. Not interrogation, not propaganda films, not re-education, footwashing. Maria is on the floor rocking. My brother was SS. She confesses Eastern front. He wrote letters.

Told us about about She can’t finish. Doesn’t need to. They all know about the Eastern Front. The Einats groupin the mass graves. Rebecca and the other nurses keep working. Don’t stop. Don’t judge. Just wash. Treat. Heal. Stand up. Rebecca tells Elsa. Your feet need to stay elevated. Elsa obeys. Broken. Reconstructing.

Everything she was is dying. Something else being born. The tent becomes a confessional. Women admitting what they knew, what they ignored, what they participated in. I typed deportation orders. I decoded messages about camps. I knew the trains were one way. Private Johnson listens while treating feet. These women were cogs in the machine. Small cogs but essential.

Without them, the machine stops. What happens to these women after? The question hangs unspoken. Some will suicide, unable to live with knowledge. Others will deny, retreat into comfortable lies. But some I want to help, Elsa says suddenly. Let me help, please. She’s looking at Rebecca, begging. Not for forgiveness. That’s impossible. but for purpose, for something to do with this terrible knowledge.

Rebecca pauses, considers, “You can help carry water. Your feet can manage that.” 6 months later, something extraordinary happens in occupied Germany. Former German auxiliaries volunteer as nurses in American field hospitals. October 1945, Frankfurt, US Army Hospital. Greta pushes a wheelchair down the corridor.

The patient is American. Sergeant Williams lost his legs to a mine. Donkashon, he says with terrible pronunciation. She smiles. You’re welcome. Her feet are healed. Scars remain, but she walks without pain. First time in years. She uses that mobility to help others who can’t walk. 3,000 former German PS work in Allied medical facilities postwar.

Not forced, voluntary, choosing to rebuild through service. Hilong Kent Kina Grenen. Healing knows no borders. That’s the motto Elsa writes on the supply closet. She’s here, too. Organizing medical supplies, using her Hitler youth organizational skills for different purposes. The transformation is remarkable.

Women who typed Vermached orders now type medical records. who decoded military communications now translate for patience. Who enabled destruction now enable healing. Rebecca visits monthly, still in uniform, still washing feet when needed. She and Isa work together. Former Nazi and Holocaust survivor side by side.

Why trust us? Elsa asked once. Because people can change, Rebecca answered. If they choose to. The hospital treats everyone. American soldiers, German civilians, displaced persons, former PS. No distinctions, just patience. Maria works in pediatrics. The children don’t know she was vermocked. Don’t care. She sings to them.

German lullabies, American songs she’s learning. Music has no nationality. Quick comment. Where are you watching from? These women’s stories were hidden for decades. Ingred teaches foot care. Ironic. The woman with destroyed feet now preventing others from suffering the same.

She shows her scars, explains trench foot, demonstrates proper drying technique. I learned the hard way, she tells new nurses. You don’t have to. The American administration notices these German women work harder than required, stay longer than shifts, care more than expected. Guilt, one officer suggests redemption. Rebecca corrects there’s a difference. The foot washing changed them, broke them, rebuilt them.

Now they wash others feet literally sometimes, figuratively always. And Greta, the one with glass in her feet, makes a life-changing decision. Greta testifies at Nuremberg about American Humanity versus Nazi lies, December 1946, International Military Tribunal. She’s 21 now, wearing a simple dress, no uniform. that life is dead.

They washed our feet, she tells the court. Jewish nurses, Holocaust survivors. They knelt before us and washed our infected feet. The prosecutors need context, evidence of American adherence to Geneva Convention. Proof that democracy treats enemies differently than fascism does. We were told Americans would torture us. Instead, they spent $5,000 of medical supplies on our feet.

Dusids heightened devar height the feet revealed the truth she describes private Johnson crying while removing glass Rebecca’s tattooed numbers the foot washing the moment 47 German women realized who the real enemy was it wasn’t the Americans it wasn’t the Jews it was the lies we believed 89 German women PS testified about treatment 100% confirmed it exceeded Geneva Convention requirements ments foot care became evidence of moral superiority.

The defense objects calls her a traitor propaganda tool. I’m a witness, Greta responds to kindness I didn’t deserve from people we tried to destroy. She talks about Ilsa, Hitler youth leader become hospital volunteer, about Maria singing to children she once would have considered racially inferior. about transformation through simple medical care.

A nation that washes enemy feet is different from one that builds gas chambers. The statement echoes through the courtroom. Simple, devastating, true. They become democracy advocates. That’s what happens. These women spend decades teaching, speaking, warning, never forget, never again. Elsa opens a medical clinic in Munich.

Treats everyone, especially refugees, especially Jews. Returning atonement through action. Maria becomes a pediatric nurse, saves hundreds of children, never mentions her past, just serves. Ingred writes medical textbooks, foot care procedures, cites Private Johnson’s techniques, spreads American medical knowledge through Germany. And Greta, she marries an American.

Private Johnson, the medic who cried while removing glass. They have three children. Teach them both languages. Both histories, both truths. Show us your feet became a moment of revelation. Simple request, profound consequences. Humanity revealed through the most humble part of the body. A simple request, show us your feet, became the moment humanity triumphed over hatred.