Elisabeth Pellusch stands next to old family photos in her Rockport home. Pellusch, a member of Hitler's Youth as a child, stresses the importance of passing on peace to future generations. Jan. 1 marked World Day of Peace.

Editor's note: January 1 celebrated two great feasts which go hand-in-hand Mary, Mother of the Church and World Day of Peace. As unrest and conflicts continue throughout the world, Sister Lou Ella Hickman interviews a Rockport woman who grew up in the violence and frenzy of Nazi Germany. Looking back, Elisabeth Pellusch, once a member of Hitler's Youth, says the most important word young people today can know is peace.

They appear in such movies as the original To Be or Not to Be (starring Jack Benny), The Sound of Music, and Cabaret. Spotlessly groomed in their uniforms and neatly cut blond hair, these are the images we often associate with Hitler's Youth. Yet behind the silver screen images and the photographs in history books are real people. One such person is Elisabeth Pellusch, a member of Sacred Heart Church in Rockport, who as a child was a part of history. When I heard about her, I wanted to hear her story; I wanted to learn what wasn't in the history books.

Born in Rotz in the Bavarian part of Germany in 1931, Elisabeth's faith journey to America would begin with her baptism in a parish a thousand years old. The church itself had burned down twice during that time but it was the heart of the village because being Catholic was a way of life. As she described it, We celebrated everything. But all that would change with the coming of Hitler.

Elisabeth entered Hitler's Youth at age seven or eight and she belonged to the youngest group similar to the Brownies in Girl Scouts. It was exciting as there were fun activities as singing, knitting, and drawing but there was also hard work as her group helped during the harvest by picking potatoes for the local farmers.

Fascinated I listened to story after story. Her face lit up when she told me about the day the soldiers came to take down the crucifixes from the classroom walls at her school. The next day, they returned to hang a huge poster of Hitler. Later, when the parish priest arrived to teach catechism, he hung his hat over Hitler's face. Of course, we giggled, we were children. We also had to change the way we prayed. We had to extend our arms and say Adolf Hittler wird uns furen in das NeueReich. Heil Hittler. (Adolf Hitler, guide us into the new reich.) We had to belong to Hitler, we had to worship him.

After one of our meetings, I went home and told my parents I didn't belong to them any more; I belonged to Hitler. They asked me, who did I belong to. I told them, Hitler. They were very smart. They made some sandwiches and pushed me out of the house. I sat down outside and cried and prayed. Some of the people from the meeting found me and wanted to know why I was crying so I told them. Both my parents were arrested and I didn't see them for three or four weeks. We never discussed it again. If God hadn't helped my parents they would have been sent to the camps.

Another story was just as chilling. Hundreds of prisoners from Auschwitz along with SS guards were marched to my village. The guards shot many prisoners in the streets. The only people left in my village were the kids, the nuns, the priests, and the old men and women. We all dug a mass grave for the dead left behind. When the Americans came, they found out and we had to rebury them in plain coffins. That's when typhus broke out and my favorite nun died. Even the bell from the church had been taken by the Nazis to be used for ammunition. The local man who took it down became an outcast.

When I asked her about her family, she replied, My father thought he was too old to go to war as he had served in World War I. He told my brothers they were too young but both my father and my brother were taken anyway. My father refused to go into the SS so he was drafted into the army and my brother served in the Air Force. When the war was over, my brother went to the seminary and was ordained a priest. It was my father who taught me about love. His motto was 'children love each other.' Before I came to America he gave me great advice, 'Learn their language, their ways, and don't compare. If something bothers you, pray.' I had the best father in the world.

When I wondered out loud what she would say to a class of students, she was silent for a long time. Then she said, Peace, peace, peace. She went on, Cities as big as Houston and Austinnot one building or church was not damaged or flattened. Stick with your parents, listen to them. Be kind. Love each other and your enemies, make the first step to peace, and pray. If prayer hadn't been there' I wouldn't have made it.

She laughed when she told me the story about how she met her future husband. I was riding a bicycle in the street and I was thrown over the car in front of me when it stopped. My bicycle was smashed but the man in the car bought me another one. Joe was in the military. We were later married in Munich. My father carved a special box for me which held a rosary, a prayer book, several religious articles as a gift. I came to America in 1952 when I was eight months pregnant. I arrived in New York and I didn't even know English. My husband was already in San Antonio. She didn't need to tell me, I was sure by this time it was her prayer that had sustained her.

Her stories had come to an end. And just as I finished my interview, she added one last remark, I am very proud to be an American but I will never forget Germany. More than that, her stories reveal that she never forgets the faith that nurtured her and supported her family during a time of madness. Such stories are worth pondering, don't you think?