Over one hundred years ago my grandfather Karl Meininger, a young soldier and not yet a father, lay dying in the front-line trenches fighting for Germany in World War I. He suffered with a fractured leg and what was described as “catarrh” in the meticulously kept German records. Another young soldier from Adelaide, Australia who presumed him dead, took home a pocket watch he discovered in Karl’s uniform.
Fast forward to 2024 when I was asked to give a virtual presentation on Early Relational Health in Adelaide. The time had come for me to write about the watch. Before this moment I could hardly bear to think about the story: its intensity blinding me into a state of shutdown.
When my father’s sister Ingrid died in her 90’s, my cousin Debbie discovered a suitcase in the back of a closet. In it she found the watch. Debbie sent me a photo, requesting that I ask my father about it. Though he would take his last breath a few months later, at the age of 99 his thinking remained razor sharp. When I showed him the photo he said, “Yes, I remember that watch. A soldier from Adelaide, Australia took it home and later it was returned to my father.” But that was it. He said no more. His father he told me, rarely spoke about the war. I learned the details in the opening paragraph from documents discovered in the same hidden suitcase that held the watch.
Similar to my father, I am inclined to immerse myself in the present to avoid looking right at the enormity of loss contained in my ancestors’ stories. In contrast, my cousin who aside from me is the last remaining living relative of our generation, is driven to uncover all the details. Thankfully, she seems better able to compartmentalize the facts from the emotion. While I knew she had obtained a translation of an article she had found along with the watch, I resisted listening to her for over a year after my father’s death. But the occasion of my virtual visit to Australia motivated me to look at what she had found.
The soldier had given the watch— a “souvenir” taken from “a fallen soldier” —to a young boy; a family relative. The boy delighted in the gift, but his mother sensed something was not right. Fortunately, my grandfather’s name and address were engraved in the watch. A German friend living in Australia contacted another friend in Hamburg who knew the Meininger family. A letter dated August 16, 1924, gave the news that Karl Meininger had survived. Soon after the watch was reunited with its rightful owner. The article concludes:
“The man believed dead on the battlefield whose property seemed ownerless, had remained alive past the threshold of death. His most personal possession, his watch, had traveled across the seas, had changed owners, but had not been lost. ” Then with artistic flair the article concludes, “Unjust wealth does not prosper. Like the clock so beats the conscience in man’s chest. It beats until someone listens to his voice and justice is restored.”
My father attributed his own parents’ survival of the Holocaust to Karl’s identity as a German war hero. I learned from my cousin of an entire organization Reichsbund Jewish Front Soldiers that was founded in 1919 to “demonstrate Jewish loyalty to the former German Empire and Jewish German Nationalism.” The story of the watch was published in their newsletter in Berlin on October 8, 1937. The organization was disbanded in 1938.
When my father was a young teenager, he escaped Nazi Germany to come to the United States. On those rare occasions when he shared his experience, the deepest pain arose from feeling that he did not belong in his home country. Learning of the article, I gained a deeper understanding of the generational roots of his despair. His own father almost gave his life to defend the country that then rejected him. My father was sent away not only from his home country, but also from his own parents. He left them behind to an uncertain future as he crossed the ocean to a foreign land.
For the perinatal mental health conference in Adelaide I brought the story of the watch into my presentation in the section addressing the perspective of historical trauma in promoting healthy infant-caregiver relationships. Across the miles and time zones the story created a powerful bond between myself and my audience.
Many people in our world today struggle with feeling that they do not belonging. This story reinforces for me the need to focus on small yet profound moments of connection within our communities. These “moments of meeting” serve to protect our minds and bodies from the harmful effects of pain and loss, restoring a sense of hope and belonging.