On the night of January 26, 1944, in the German town of Kronach, a young Rudolf ‘Rudi’ Höring and his brother were sitting on the kitchen table. An RAF bomber stream was flying overhead, and their mother was desperately trying to wrangle socks on to the two truculent boys before heading out to the bomb shelter. The young brothers were still resisting when the sound of an explosion rocked the house.
RAF Lancasters in flight. © IWM
Neighbours went to see what had happened. It was known that an aeroplane had flown directly overhead, but villagers had lost sight of it. Only the glow of the fire could now be seen. The wreckage of a Lancaster bomber was spread across a field, the seven-man crew all dead. One villager burst into tears at the sight of it, remembering his own son who had been killed in an aircraft over France.
The next day soldiers were on site to remove the debris, although remains of the bomber were still coming to light for many days after the crash as farmers tilled the fields. The seven crew members were buried, with the local pastor reciting an Our Father.
While the local Nazi leadership was delighted that an enemy aircraft had been downed, they were horrified to find that flowers had been placed on the graves of the British airmen. For the Nazis, this was an incredible crime, and an investigation team was begun to find the culprit. Although many locals believed they knew who lay the flowers, they remained silent. Many did not regard the young airmen as enemies, but as people who had to fulfil their duty in the war and for whom others in their homeland mourned. With the war pressing on, and with American ground forces pushing ever closer, the local Nazi leadership had problems closer to home. The culprit therefore evaded detecting and the ‘offense’ remained unpunished.
Only much later was it known who placed the flowers – local greengrocer Margareta Wich. She had worn size 46 shoes (UK size 11) to mask her own small footprints and remain anonymous.
With the end of the war in sight, the citizens of Kronach doubtless looked forward to an end to the years of fighting. However, the war not yet finished with them, nor with the young Rudi Höring.
On the second Sunday of Easter, 1945, Rudi and his First Communion classmates watched on as a troop of soldiers led a man in chains; a German deserter. He was hanged from an oak tree then shot. The class was shown the executed man, with Rudi remembering the white sign fixed to his chest which read ‘Traitor’, and the blood from the gunshot spilling down. An unforgettable sight, and on which left Rudi with a profound revulsion against all the violence of war.
After the war, as a remainder and memorial, Rudi placed a cross on the trunk of the oak tree to which the executed man had been tied. In the late 1960s, he also bought a quiet meadow on a slight slope, surrounded by dark spruce forest; the site of the downed Lancaster. Here he built a chapel to commemorate the crash, which was inaugurated with the willing participation of the locals.
The cross Rudi Höring placed to commemorate the man he saw hanged
The chapel built by Rudi Höring
The chapel is adorned with a statue of Our Lady with crown, sceptre and baby Jesus. Outside, a memorial stone leans against the wall, reading: ‘In memory of the seven-man crew of the Royal Air Force bomber which crashed here on January 25, 1944’.
For many years Rudi drove to the chapel daily, lit two candles and said a silent prayer. Hikers often come by even now, read the plaque and pause for a moment.
Rudi once said that he built he chapel as a symbol of remembrance and reconciliation. He himself never had contact with the families of the fallen. He never spoke much about it either. The chapel should be a place of silent remembrance, and to this day it is.
The chapel’s memorial stone
The names and headstone memorial inscriptions of the seven crewmen killed that night. © CWGC
This story was adapted from the write-up of Anton Altnoeder SJ, a priest living near to the site of the crash, and who personally knew Rudi Höring. He committed the story to paper so that it could be read by the families of the airmen who gave their lives, or by anyone interested in knowing the deep-down goodness of people, no matter what a war might bring. It was to be a reminder of this time of horror, and of the reality that reconciliation is also possible across borders.
