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IN KOREA, Corpl. Carl von Rosenberg-Rosemont poses for o snapshot. From Wehrmadit to 11S. Inny By William J. Moyer r[E LAST WAR was ending rapidly. Night again had closed in on the German prison camp east of Berlin when Carl von Rosenberg-Rosemont, a tank gunner, started slithering past his Russian guards. During the Nazis’ headlong retreat, a Soviet shell had demolished his tank. Carl’s companions were killed. He was captured and herded into an inclosure with .thousands of other prisoners.' Three nights later, he escaped, crawl ing for five hours through muck and slime. The area was Infested with Russians. A snapping twig, a barking uog or an inadvertent cough could have meant recapture—perhaps death. But he made it back to the German lines. It was the start of a long and laborious trek to even greater freedom and to his native land—the United States. For during all those years. Carl, unknowingly at the outset, was an American serving by compulsion in Hitler’s Wehrmacht. Today, he is Corpl. Rosenberg-Rose mont, a military policeman at Fort Myer and a veteran of the Korean fighting. But let’s turn back the years. ‘ RkSK v ; SS ISmb FATHER Otto died when Carl was an infant. !—THE WASHINGTON STAR PICTORIAL MAGAZINE. JL'NE I. IM'l PAGE 12 Carl was born January 4, 1926, in New York City. His father Otto, dead these many years, and his mother Charlotte were naturalized Americans. Both were portrait artists, but Carl does not remember his father. He was only 2 and his sister Alfrieda was 4 when their mother took them to Switzerland. Carl still was an Infant when his grandparents took him to Germany. Other relatives took Alfrieda to Czecho slovakia. Carl went to German schools. He knew little of his early childhood, except that he had been born in America. At 17, he joined the Nazi army— because, he says, his grandparents’ property would have been confiscated if he hadn’t. He was sent to the eastern front for the drive toward Moscow. . . . Carl was back with his outfit, after his escape from the Russians, when Germany collapsed. He was captured again—this time by the British. “I believe I am an American,” he told them when they released him, six months later. They advised him to see American authorities. He did—but to no avail. Even if he S|||3 fc s jgj ||P| llll||g / a Wa J W 4 6mm / m MOTHER Charlotte took him and sister to Europe. m J|BBBflH|^Bfe^djP* 41 RPI ■ ■ ■ WL^mk ■ m J 'i:Z]'' Y£4 Jgkp,. '+ ■ : Bri'- K'4?^:j&i's:~'pcw jmia \ m mm ' '•©EWe & ~~ C • \\ i H ■ I m I S** l ;a - mS |H m m M H By 1I B P AT FORT MYER, the much-traveled soldier directs troffic as a military policeman. had been an American, he had re nounced his citizenship by serving the Nazis. Three discouraging years slipped by. Finally, in desperation, he lied. He said he had not been in the German Army. His passport came through. . . . But the Consul still was suspicious. “Will you swear on your honor that you never were in the Nazi army?” he asked. Carl couldn’t do that. He wept. The truth had gotten him nowhere, he explained. That’s why he lied. The Consul believed him and got in touch with Washington. Finally, word came that Carl was an American and since’ he had served the Nazis unwill ingly, he was entitled to return home. It was Christmas, 1948, when his ship sailed past the Statue of Liberty. A few days later, he found Alfrieda, who had arrived two years before from Czechoslovakia. She had a job and there were happy hours. He had not seen her for 15 years. But even so, life in America was not easy. Because of his scanty MMHp " _ --' ' ( .l* 1 * • "Hp'’ . SISTER Alfrieda now is living in New York.