War Heroes Provide Answer to Author's Prayer

By Tricia Goyer, Little Rock, Arkansas

As appeared in

With every one of the 12 hours it took me to get to Kalamazoo, Michigan, my doubts grew. I was a young mom of three, an aspiring romance novelist who’d yet to commit more than a few chapters of a book to paper—let alone get a publisher interested. What business did I have attending a reunion of World War II vets, interviewing them about one of the most troubling times in human history? Now here I was, at the hotel, wondering if my trip was a big mistake. These veterans might not warm up to you right away, I warned myself, walking into the lobby.

A man saw me and rushed over. “Are you the author?” he asked.

“Yes...”

“I’m Bob. My father was in the 11th. The men knew you were coming today. They’re all waiting for you.” I nodded, eager to meet the vets, especially those from the 41st Cavalry Recon Squadron, who were part of the 11th Armored Division and the first ones inside the Mauthausen concentration camp.

I followed Bob into the conference room, wheeling my suitcase. Reunion of the 11th Armored Division, Patton’s 3rd U.S. Army a banner declared. Eight of the veterans were sitting in a row, some wearing caps with army insignias, others with photo albums resting on their laps. That was a good sign, wasn’t it, that they would tell me their stories? Unless they were too difficult to share...

I had reason to doubt. My grandfather was a World War II veteran. He could regale me for hours about growing up in Kansas with 11 brothers and sisters, but when I asked him about the war, he’d backtrack to stories of his youth or skip ahead to later in life. Grandma took me aside and, in a hushed tone, told me he had been wounded and sent home on a hospital ship. I wanted desperately to know more, but I didn’t want to upset him. Maybe it was better to let the past be the past.

Six months after Grandpa died I traveled to Europe with two friends of mine—also writers—who were researching World War II sites for their books. Our last stop was the Mauthausen concentration camp, in a tiny Austrian town. From outside, it looked like a castle, a stone fortress. But inside, it was clear it was built for one thing: death. Our guide told us about the 11th Armored Division that liberated the camp after a grueling battle through France and Germany. It wasn’t Grandpa’s unit, but hearing about the horrors the men witnessed helped me understand his stoic silence.

Back home in the States, I tried to work on the next chapter of the romance novel I’d been writing, but the 11th Armored and what they had seen at Mauthausen wouldn’t leave my head. Lord, I asked, are you trying to tell me this is the story I need to work on?

I called my literary agent and pitched her a novel based on the liberation of Mauthausen. “This doesn’t sound like you. Where’d this come from?” my agent asked. I told her about my trip. She agreed my pitch had potential. “Can you get in touch with any of those men to find out more details, Tricia?” she asked.

Could I? I’d never done anything like that before. Then again, I’d never written a novel before either. I went on the internet, found the 11th Armored Division Association and e-mailed the group’s secretary. Within minutes, he replied with 10 names and addresses. I wrote letters to each veteran, asking to meet them. I got six responses back, all saying the same thing: “Why don’t you come to our reunion?”

Now here I was, ready or not. I set my suitcase against the conference room wall and pulled out my tape recorder and notepad. A tall, thin man with white, white hair and a short, stocky man with gray-black hair motioned me over.