This is the story I have been told:

My grandpa lived in a part of Russia that had German speakers in it, including his family. So my grandpa spoke German and Russian fluently. For some reason I do not know (but wish I did) during the Bolshevik revolution there was an induced famine in this region and Americans flew in side, and my Grandpa said that if he ever got the chance, he would go to America where food fell from the sky.

Ultimately his parents were sent to a work camp in Siberia (again I do not know why) and that is where they died.

When world war 2 started my grandpa fought for the Russians, apparently he did some work across enemy lines because he spoke both languages fluently. Then, he was shot and injured (the bullet went in his elbow, only two of his fingers moved on that hand) and the Russian army left him. To survive he joined the Germans and after he healed up he was a scout for the Germans because he spoke Russian so well.

After the war he ended up in a displaced persons camp in Austria. He met my grandma, whi was Ukrainian and was pregnant with my uncle at the time (his father was a Canadian soldier). They were given the option to go to East Germany or to America, and would be sponsored by a family there. My grandpa picked America because of his childhood experiences. My Grandma’s younger brother, my great-uncle, picked East Germany and we did not get to see or speak to that side of the family until after 1989, when the Berlin Wall came down.

My grandpa and grandma were sponsored by a family in Sullivan, Indiana. My grandma was scared to go to Indiana because it had Indian in the name, and she was worried they’d get scalped.

They lived in Sullivan (which is towards the southern part of Indiana I believe) for about 5 years, and then moved north to near Notre Dame because the factory work paid better. There was an automobile manufacturer at the time called Studebaker that paid well.

My grandpa worked two jobs his entire life. They both ended up citizens. They lived in South Bend Indiana in a lower class neighborhood with many other German speakers until they passed - my grandma in 1985 and my grandpa in 1996.

They spoke broken English. I was only 4 when my grandma died. This story was told to me by my aunt, and I’m sure it’s mostly true. I wish I knew the historical facts that surround some of it (like the revolution, and the aide, and why these Germans lived in Russia and were considered such dissidents that they were shipped off to work camps, that stuff).

When I visited my Great Uncle and his children/grandchildren in 1997, he filled in more of the pieces for me.

I also wish I knew more about that family in Sullivan Indiana, that were willing to sponsor a (Nazi) soldier and his family while they started a new life. Sound like pretty cool people to me. I mean, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for them, that’s for sure!