German Women POWs in Canada Froze When a Canadian Soldier Called One of Them “Meine Liebe”

The Christmas at Camp 133

May, 1945. Northern Germany.

Dust swirled in the bunker as three women stood with their hands raised, hearts pounding in their chests. Greta Hoffman, Leisel Weber, and Margaret “Maggie” Klene wore the gray, wrinkled uniforms of the German Women’s Auxiliary Service. The distant shouts of Canadian soldiers echoed outside, their English words strange and sharp.

Greta’s mind raced. Twenty-four years old, she’d spent the last two years as a signals operator, sending messages for units that no longer existed. Before the war, she’d studied literature in Hamburg—a city of bookshops, music, and hope. Her brothers had died on the Eastern Front. After that, Greta joined the auxiliary, telling herself she was helping her homeland. But doubts had grown, whispering against the propaganda she’d been fed.

Leisel, just nineteen, came from a farm in Bavaria. She’d joined for adventure, believing every word about Germany’s future and the evil of the Allies. Now, the world she’d built in her mind was splintering.

Maggie, thirty-one, had worked as a telephone operator in Berlin before the war. She’d joined the auxiliary because there was no choice. She’d seen Berlin bombed, food rations shrink, and officers lie about victories that never came. Maggie was a survivor, not a believer.

The bunker door swung open with a groan. Sunlight flooded in, blinding them. A young Canadian soldier stepped inside, his rifle pointed down.

“My liba, you’re safe now,” he said in perfect German. “My dear, you’re safe.”

Greta’s breath caught. Surely this was a trick. Everyone knew Canadians were monsters. But the soldier’s eyes were kind. Outside, more soldiers searched the bunker, gentle and professional. No rough hands, no cruel words. One found Greta’s notebook and handed it back with a nod. Another offered Leisel a piece of chocolate. Maggie watched, expecting violence. Instead, she saw politeness.

Three days later, the women were in a camp near Oldenburg, surrounded by 2,000 prisoners. Greta eyed the fences and guard towers, bracing for cruelty. But the first meal was hot cabbage soup, thick bread with margarine. Greta ate slowly, waiting for poison. Nothing happened. Maggie finished her meal and asked for more. The guards smiled and served her.

A British nurse examined them, speaking gently, apologizing through a translator if she caused pain. That night, the guards brought clean blankets. Leisel clutched hers, crying. “Why would they give us blankets if they plan to kill us?”

On May 12th, the women boarded the SS Beaver Bray, a ship bound for Canada. The voyage was cramped and dark, but private. The food was generous—2,200 calories a day, Greta estimated. Leisel, seasick, was cared for by a Canadian medic who brought her crackers and medicine.

After twelve days, land appeared through the mist. Greta pressed her face to the glass, seeing green hills, undamaged buildings, and working docks. The abundance was overwhelming.

The train from Halifax to Alberta took two days. Greta counted factories, grain silos, and healthy cows. Maggie stared out the window. “We were told they were starving. Where is the weakness, Greta? We were lied to.”

Camp 133, Lethbridge, Alberta.

Camp 133 sprawled across 600 acres of prairie. The women’s section was separate, with thirty green-painted barracks. Sergeant Margaret Okconor greeted them in perfect German. She explained the rules: wake at seven, breakfast at seven-thirty, work was voluntary, showers three times a week, mail allowed, church services on Sundays.

The barracks were simple but clean. Each woman had a bed, blankets, and a footlocker. Hot water flowed from the showers. Greta’s hands shook as she realized what that meant.

Their first meal was porridge with milk and sugar, scrambled eggs, toast with butter, and hot coffee. Leisel stared at her plate, whispering, “It’s a trick.” Greta understood, but ate slowly, watching for signs of danger. After ten minutes, Leisel took a tiny bite, then cried as she ate. Maggie finished everything, savoring each bite.

A Canadian doctor, Captain Morris, examined them. Leisel’s infected tooth was treated with real medicine; Greta’s dysentery from the ship was cured with sulfa drugs. The hospital beds were clean, nurses checked on them often.

That first night, the women cried in the dark. Not from fear, but from confusion and relief. Maggie lay awake, feeling safer than she had in years.

By June, the routine settled in. Work was voluntary. Greta organized books in the camp library, Leisel peeled potatoes in the kitchen, Maggie processed mail in the administration office. The camp had electricity, a recreation hall with a radio, uncensored news, and Canadian newspapers filled with advertisements for abundance.

Every other Saturday, small groups visited Lethbridge for shopping. The stores were full, the streets clean, people healthy. Some locals smiled at the prisoners. At church, a German Canadian family invited Leisel to sit with them and gave her cookies.

Prisoners could write letters home. Greta wrote to her mother, Leisel to her sister Anna, Maggie to her husband Hans in the Soviet zone. They struggled to describe how well they were treated.

Cultural differences piled up. Guards ate the same food as prisoners. Women guards had authority. Church services were optional and diverse. The chaplain spoke about hope and forgiveness, never politics.

By September, Greta enrolled in English classes. Leisel attended Catholic mass. Maggie watched how democracy worked. The truth was impossible to ignore.

December 25, 1945.

Christmas morning arrived. Greta woke to the scent of fresh pine. In the recreation hall, Canadian soldiers decorated a tall Christmas tree. Breakfast included oranges—fruit not seen in Germany since 1942. Leisel held hers, crying.

At 2:00, all 183 women gathered for a special program. Local German Canadians had donated gifts: scarves, mittens, hand lotion, writing paper. The meal was a feast—roast turkey, mashed potatoes, carrots, rolls, cranberry sauce, apple pie with cream. The portions were generous.

Leisel stared at her plate, thinking of her family eating potato peels and grass. She sobbed. “Our enemies are kinder than our own people ever were.” Others cried too. The chaplain spoke quietly to Greta. “Honor your brothers by living truthfully now.” Something inside Greta cracked. The lies she’d believed about the enemy, about democracy, began to fall away.

Sergeant Okconor played Christmas carols on the piano. German prisoners sang along. There was trust in the room, not fear.

After the meal, Canadian guards shared their own losses—family members lost in the war. Yet here they were, serving Christmas dinner to former enemies.

That night, women prayed in the chapel. Leisel whispered, “I do not know what is true anymore, but thank you for keeping me alive to see this.”

After Christmas, the women split into three groups. Greta and Maggie, with about 110 others, embraced their transformation. They attended classes, asked questions about democracy and women’s rights. About 40 women, led by Sergeant Major Krauss, refused to accept the kindness. They saw it as psychological warfare. Another 33 were caught in the middle, torn between old beliefs and new evidence.

Tensions grew. One night, Krauss accused Greta of betraying Germany. Greta replied, “Our fatherland starved us and lied to us. These enemies treat us better than our own government ever did.”

The transformed women wrote new letters home. Greta told her mother about freedom and dignity. Leisel wrote to Anna, saying she might try to stay in Canada. Maggie urged Hans to reach the Western zones if possible.

Sergeant Okconor organized discussion groups about Canadian history, democracy, and women’s rights. Most women attended. Krauss’s group called it propaganda.

Local civilians became involved. Churches sponsored events. Families wrote letters and sent gifts. Vocational training programs flourished. Women earned certifications in typing, bookkeeping, nursing assistance, and university courses.

Krauss’s group clung to old beliefs. They gave Nazi salutes in private, refused to speak English, and planned to report “traitors” when they returned to Germany. But their influence shrank.

The psychological toll was heavy. The transformed grieved for their lost innocence. The resistors grew isolated. The conflicted struggled with guilt and doubt.

June, 1946.

The announcement came: prisoners would be sent home starting in September. Greta applied to immigrate to Canada, but prepared to return to Hamburg if denied. Leisel planned to return to Bavaria, bringing new ideas. Maggie chose the Western zones, hoping to help Hans escape the Soviet sector.

Each woman could take fifty pounds of belongings. Greta packed English books, certificates, and letters from Canadian friends. Leisel packed a Bible, a winter coat, and letters from Anna. Maggie packed photographs, Hans’s letters, and writing materials.

On October 12th, the camp held a farewell ceremony. Colonel Matthews spoke: “You came as our enemies. You leave as people we have come to know. Take the idea of dignity home with you.” The women applauded, some crying.

Sergeant Okconor found Greta alone. “You are one of the brightest students I’ve ever taught,” she said, giving Greta a copy of Anne of Green Gables with an inscription: “May you always choose truth over comfortable lies.”

The first transport group left on October 15th. Krauss and her group sang old songs. The Canadians did not stop them—democracy meant free expression, even for ideas they opposed.

Greta and Leisel left in the second group. The ship, SS Marine Falcon, crossed the Atlantic in fourteen days. Arriving at Bremerhaven, the women saw a city in ruins. Greta gave her coat to a woman with children. Leisel learned her father had died in a Soviet camp. Maggie found work as a clerk in West Berlin, sending letters to Hans through the Red Cross.

Rebuilding and Remembrance

Greta worked as a translator for the British occupation forces. In 1948, she witnessed the Berlin Airlift. In 1949, she attended the founding of the Federal Republic of Germany, crying as politicians promised democracy and human rights. She married a British officer, moved to England, and taught civic education.

Leisel helped rebuild her village, joined the Christian Democratic Union, and taught English. She founded a Canadian-German friendship society, sharing her experiences with students.

Maggie worked for the US occupation forces, saving money and writing to Hans. In 1953, Hans escaped the Soviet zone and found her in West Berlin. They moved to Munich, mentoring young women.

The three women kept writing to Canadian friends for decades. Greta and Okconor exchanged letters until Okconor’s death in 1998. Leisel sent donations to the church that sponsored her. In 1975, she visited Canada with her family. Maggie sent photographs and updates, her will creating scholarships for women studying democratic governance.

In 1985, the Canadian government invited former prisoners to Lethbridge for a memorial. Greta, Leisel, and Maggie attended, sharing their stories with students.

Greta told the students, “We were taught you were monsters. You showed us you were human. That changed everything. Question what you are told about enemies. Someone benefits from your hatred, and it is rarely you.”

Leisel said, “Never think small acts of kindness do not matter. Treating even your enemies with dignity can change the future of nations.”

Maggie spoke last. “They fed us, educated us, and treated us fairly. Not because we deserved it, but because they believed in principles bigger than war. That is the foundation of democracy.”

Of the 183 women, 34 immigrated to Canada, 12 to America, eight to Britain, six to Australia. Most cited their experience as prisoners as the reason for leaving Germany.

Even Krauss, the hardline resistor, changed. In 1961, she fled to West Germany. In 1965, she wrote a letter, never sent: “I was wrong about everything. The democracy I mocked would have saved Germany. I am sorry.”

Greta wrote a textbook, From Propaganda to Truth, used in German schools. Leisel’s son became a member of Parliament, crediting his mother’s stories for his commitment to transatlantic alliance.

In the 1990s, a German documentary featured the women. Greta died in 2012, Leisel in 2015, Maggie in 2008. Their legacies lived on—in textbooks, in family stories, in democratic institutions.

What did they learn?

Greta understood education only matters if you question what you are taught. Leisel learned her real enemies were those who taught her to hate. Maggie learned that systems matter more than slogans.

The lesson is simple: How we treat those we have defeated reveals our true values. Canada could have abused these women. Instead, it showed that democratic principles apply to everyone—even enemies.

These women came as servants of dictatorship. They left as witnesses to democracy, transformed not through battle, but through humanity, through a Christmas dinner, through words spoken with genuine care.

When they helped rebuild Germany, raised children who valued human rights, and taught students to think critically, they repaid a debt of kindness that transformed enemies into allies.

The question remains: How do we treat our enemies? Do we confirm their worst fears, or do we demonstrate principles worth defending?

The women of Camp 133 proved that kindness is not weakness. It is the strongest weapon democracy possesses.