Authors: John Stonestreet and Dr. Timothy Padgett
In April 1945, with the Third Reich crashing to its end, millions of Soviet troops streaming in from the east and Anglo-American armies from the west, the Gestapo was still hunting down dissent. Many Germans were simply trying to survive. Millions of men who otherwise would have been in factories were instead at the front lines. So, the Germans imported slave workers. Most came from Eastern European nations like Poland and Ukraine, but the Germans also used POWs and civilians from France, Belgium, and the Netherlands. Among the thousands in slave labor were Jews who had evaded the gas chambers. Any German who offered aid or comfort to someone attempting to escape faced a death sentence.
Fritz Niermann did not look like a hero. A middle-aged grocer from Essen without many resources, he did have an apartment that was (so far) undamaged by Allied bombs. More importantly, he had a well-formed Christian conscience.
Not far from Niermann’s home was Krupp Steelworks, a massive industrial complex whose owners had supplied Germany with weapons for centuries. This corporate dynasty was among the wealthiest in Europe and had, for generations, supported German expansion. World War II was no exception. The reigning family patriarchs, Gustav and his son Alfried, were not only willing to sell Nazis the guns needed to try to conquer Europe, but also to set up camps on their property to house the slave labor needed to build those guns.
Like many Germans of his day, Niermann was a formal member of a Christian church; in his case, Roman Catholic. But he was not like the many thousands of Protestants and Catholics who turned a blind eye to what was happening or even joined complicit organizations such as the “German Christians.”
Turning a blind eye would have been the easiest thing to do when four Jewish girls who escaped from the Krupp factory showed up at his front door. According to historian William Manchester:
[T]he first people they saw in the apartment foyer were three tall, slender SS officers in full uniform. That seemed to be the end of the girls. In reality, it was the end of their suffering. Niermann and his wife came forward slowly, ... both greeted them warmly. The girls were given their own room, with an exit to the street.
Niermann made the courageous choice to help the girls because he took his faith, and its implications, seriously. He was an admirer of Martin Niemöller, the one-time U Boat skipper who eventually became a Lutheran pastor and critic of Hitler, who spent eight years in Nazi prison for his opposition. Niemöller is best known for saying,
First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a socialist. Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a trade unionist. Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—because I was not a Jew. Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.
It was partly due to his anger at the Lutheran pastor’s imprisonment that this Catholic grocer took such a big risk. Eventually, the young women he saved made it to Allied lines and later moved to America.
For his role in saving their lives at great risk to himself, the Israelis posthumously awarded Niermann the title, “Righteous Among the Gentiles.” A common grocer, he is an example of the uncommon courage that is possible when Christian conviction is put to the test.