In the autumn of 1944, as World War II raged across Europe, a moment of extraordinary humanity occurred in the Dutch village of Goirle. On 6 October 1944, just three days after his eighteenth birthday, Karl-Heinz Rosch saved two Dutch kids from certain death. Yet, this act of courage would remain largely unknown for more than sixty years because Rosch was a German soldier in the Wehrmacht—an enemy in an occupied land.
A memorial to Karl-Heinz Rosch. Credit: Wikimedia Commons
Rosch’s unrecognized act of valour was just one of many tragedies in his life. He was born an unwanted child in 1926 to two young parents who were forced to marry because of his birth. The marriage soon broke down, and both parents moved on to new relationships. Rosch was left behind. His father eventually placed him in the care of his grandfather in Nerchau, where he spent most of his childhood and youth. Although his father visited occasionally, Rosch never saw his mother again.
Understandably, Rosch grew up withdrawn and melancholic. His closest friend, Horst Naumann, remembered him as friendly, polite, and cooperative, yet often lost in thought. Naumann recalled that Rosch frequently needed cheering and seemed to carry a quiet, persistent sadness. He found solace in long walks through the forest with his dog and felt a deep connection to nature. His dream was to become a forest ranger, a life far removed from the turmoil that would soon overtake him.
In the summer of 1944, when Rosch was 17 years old, he was drafted into the Wehrmacht and, after only two weeks of military training, sent to the Western Front.
On 6 October 1944, three days after Rosch turned eighteen, the young German soldier and his platoon were stationed at a farm in Goirle, near Tilburg, when Allied forces opened fire. As his comrades moved to take shelter in the farmhouse basement, Rosch noticed that the farmer’s two young children remained in the courtyard, apparently unaware of the danger and continuing to play amid the shelling.
Ignoring his own safety, Rosch ran toward the children, lifting one under each arm, and carried them into the basement. He then went back outside, moving across the courtyard, when a grenade struck the exact spot where the children had been moments earlier. Rosch was killed instantly.
What remained of his shattered body was buried in the farm’s vegetable garden. Sometime later, at the request of his grandfather, Rosch’s grave was transferred to the German war cemetery at Ysselsteyn, in the province of Limburg.
After the war ended, the Dutch got busy building up their lives and Rosch’s selfless act was conveniently forgotten. As former city councillor Herman van Rouwendaal later put it, Rosch was dismissed simply because “he was a damn Kraut.”
By 2008, more than sixty years later, van Rouwendaal—then seventy-six years old—came to believe that it was time to acknowledge the sacrifice the young soldier had made. He began appealing for donations to erect a statue in Rosch’s memory.
The initiative met with considerable resistance. As van Rouwendaal observed, “Some Dutch are caught in a black-and-white way of thinking. The Germans were all Nazis, the Dutch were all good. That there were also unsavoury characters among us, who for example betrayed Jews and robbed them, one does not like to hear.”
Opponents argued that the sacrifices of their own people should be remembered before erecting a monument to a former enemy. On 15 August 1942, five men from Goirle had been tied to stakes and executed by German forces in reprisal for the sabotage of a railway line in Rotterdam earlier that month. The wooden stakes to which the men were bound have been preserved and are still displayed at the Goirle history museum.
Van Rouwendaal came to believe that a balance was needed—one that allowed both Dutch suffering and Rosch’s sacrifice to be acknowledged. He therefore proposed that the five murdered townsmen be honoured with a monument placed beside the preserved execution stakes in Goirle’s history museum, while a memorial to Rosch could stand nearby. Together, the two monuments would convey the complexity of war, its cruelty alongside moments of humanity, and, over time, the possibility of peace and perhaps even forgiveness. The proposal was formally submitted to the town council.
After prolonged discussion, the council rejected the request. Officials argued that honouring a Wehrmacht soldier would be insensitive and expressed concern that such a monument might turn Goirle into a destination for neo-Nazi sympathizers.
The refusal did not extinguish the determination of the memorial’s supporters. Denied public backing, they pressed on independently, launching a fundraising campaign to secure the money needed to erect the monument themselves.
“We will not be honouring the Wehrmacht, but rather the humanity of a young German soldier,” van Rouwendaal strongly pointed out during the drive for Karl-Heinz Rosch’s memorial.
On 4 November 2008, a bronze statue was erected on private property in Goirle in memory of Karl-Heinz Rosch. The monument is one of the very few memorials dedicated to a German soldier who served in an enemy occupying force, commemorated by those who once regarded him as an adversary.
There’s only one other memorial erected for a German soldier by his former enemies, which is that of Friedrich Lengfeld, after US veterans collected funds to create a memorial for him, after he was Killed in Action whilst saving an American soldier during the Battle of Hürtgen Forest.
The plaque on Karl Heinz Rosch’s memorial reads: “This statue is a tribute to him and all who do good in evil times.”
Close-up of the plaque on the memorial to Karl-Heinz Rosch. Credit: Wikimedia Commons
References:
# The Hero of Goirle: The Untold Story of Karl-Heinz Rosch. Argunners
# Karl-Heinz Rosch—Hero Without Glory. Dirkdeklein.net
# Rosch, Karl-Heinz. World War II in Graves
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