Humanity’s ability to mark the passage of time is thought to be one of its more singular accomplishments.
Some five centuries ago, a German locksmith by the name of Peter Henlein would invent the world’s first watch. It acquired the name “watch” from sailors who used it to replace the hourglasses that timed their four-hour shifts or watches.
In January 1942, it was a rather nondescript wristwatch that Charles B. Woehrle strapped to his left wrist when he enlisted in the Army Air Corps. He had hopes of becoming a fighter pilot but instead found himself trained as a bombardier for the B-17 Flying Fortress. A heavy bomber that bristled with armament.
On a fateful Saturday, May 29, 1943, on a mission to St. Nazaire, a coastal port in France, First Lieutenant Woehrle’s plane was gunned down by German artillery fire over the waters of the Atlantic. Of the ten-man crew, six survived. Captured by German forces, all six were sent as prisoners of war to the ill-famed Stalag Luft III camp in Poland; a prison that, by November 1944, would hold more American prisoners of war than any prison camp in Europe.
When Woehrle entered the sprawling compound, he was searched, issued prison tags, fingerprinted, photographed, and stripped of all his personal belongings, including his wristwatch.
Sometime later that summer, Woehrle’s mother sent him a package that contained a pocket watch, intended to replace the wristwatch confiscated by the Germans. The watch was wrapped in a note with a verse from the book of Genesis, “The Lord watch between thee and me when we are absent one from another.”
Over the next twenty three months, the young airman would witness courageous men break down and collapse; locked in tedious confinement, shrouded in fear and uncertainty, surrounded by violence and the sting of death. The unrelenting environment often spawned indifference, and induced a lack of initiative among many of its casualties.
Woehrle soon came to grips with the fact that, “In prison camp, you suddenly realize you are not in control anymore.” A harsh reality that, “has to be accepted or you couldn’t live with yourself.”
Years later, Woehrle’s daughter, Betsy Kelly, acknowledged it was her father’s faith and the mutual trust and friendship among fellow prisoners, that brought him through. “I think really his two years in prison camp became the defining part of his life, with which he most identified.”
Among those incarcerated in the stockade was Padre Murdo Mac Donald. “Padre Mac,” as he was good-naturedly referred to, had arrived a few days after Woehrle’s capture. Although a rather unorthodox man of the cloth, Padre Mac was found to be principled and persuasive with an engaging sense of humor. A Padre with a strange accent, owing to the fact that he was a Highlander Scott who hailed from the Island of Skye.
Woehrle noticed the Padre didn’t have a watch and, given the Padre’s need to be somewhere at a certain time, Woehrle reached into his pocket and pulled out the pocket watch he had received from his mother. He placed it in the short stout Scott’s now outstretched hand. “I’m goanna let you have my watch so you can get to where you want to go on time,” insisted Woehrle. The Padre accepted the gifted pocket watch, thanking his fellow ally for his thoughtful gesture.
A year later, as Woehrle was rummaging around his barracks, he happened upon a small brochure. It was an advertising piece from the famous Swiss watchmakers Patek Philippe–credited with the creation of the world’s first wristwatch in 1868. The crumpled mailer rejuvenated Woehrle’s curiosity. On the back of the brochure appeared pictures of two watches with a coupon that said, “If you want to hear more about our watches, fill out the coupon and send it in.”
Eager for any connection to the outside world, Woehrle filled out the coupon, adding a short postscript. “If you think there is a watch that I could afford, I would pay for it at the end of the war.”
A couple of months went by and Woehrle had almost forgot about it, consumed by the monotony of prison life and, if the truth be told, aware that it was a very long shot.
One morning, Woehrle’s Senior Officer, Colonel Albert P. Clark, appeared at his door. Clark had just come from the commandant’s office where he was told there was a package for Woehrle that had arrived from Geneva.
The small box was delivered the next morning. When Woehrle opened it, there was the stainless steel wristwatch with a hand-stitched alligator strap. Woehrle couldn’t believe the watch was for him. “It seemed like a dream,” he would later recall. He quickly strapped the watch on his thinning wrist.
“Woehrle’s watch became a sensation among the other prisoners, not due to the prestige of its maker, but because it arrived at all, a small piece of a world outside, perhaps a symbol of hope. He wore it for the remainder of his incarceration and for decades beyond, living up to his promise to pay for it.” So wrote Minneapolis-based writer Jason Heaton in a November 13, 2018, article for HODINKEE, a New York City-based watch website whose name originated from the Czech and Slovak word for wristwatch, “hodinky.”
On Sunday, April 29, 1945, after the morning church service, Woehrle and the other prisoners from Stalag Luft III, were liberated by General George S. Patton’s Third Army and, in less than two months, Woehrle was home.
“Would the story end there, it would be remarkable enough,” suggests Heaton. “But forty years later, sometime in the 1980s, in an unfortunate twist, his home, in St. Paul, Minnesota, was burglarized and his watch was stolen, an ignominious loss of a special watch that was hard won and worn hard.”
In 2011, Woehrle’s niece, Louise Woehrle, decided to contact the watchmaker Patek Philippe. Louise was working on a film documenting her uncle’s World War II prison experience. “Patek took interest in the story but then went an extra step,” relates Heaton, “sourcing through various networks a similar example of the watch it had sent Charles Woehrle back in 1944. Patek restored the watch and presented it to Woehrle in a ceremony in New York City.”
The new watch–which Patek Philippe’s president personally presented to Woehrle–was brighter and richer in appearance as it was fashioned, not of stainless steel, rather 18-Karat gold. Engraved on the back of the stately watch were these words: “To Charles B. Woehrle. For Your Enduring Loyalty. From Patek Philippe, June 16th, 2011.”
“Enduring loyalty” … The Reverend Kay Provine, chaplain at Episcopal Homes, concluded, “Charles knows, that in some way, God wants him here because he has a ministry. The ways in which he knows that God is there for him. Maybe in ways the rest of us can’t even comprehend who’ve not been that close to death. And the way in which you give thanks with the rest of your life everyday, month after month, year after year, decade after decade.”
Scottish poet Iain Crichton Smith, considered one of Scotland’s most important writers and lyric poets, contributed these thoughts in the prologue to Padre Mac’s autobiography, “God is not a cosmic absentee landlord–remote, insensitive to human need. He is keenly aware of the pain and suffering–necessities of freedom–to be found in the almost unimaginable inward and outward terrors of a prison camp.”
At some point, we all rummage through mementos, a few, long-forgotten, looking for those little pieces that mark the passage of time, the passage of our individual lives and humankind as a whole. When we do, we may find, like Charles Woehrle, ”If you give to others, you will be given a full amount in return. It will be packed down, shaken together, and spilling over into your lap. The way you treat others is the way you will be treated.” –Luke 6:38
A man whose eyes showed kindness, died March 25, 2015, at the age of 98, having lived about as full a life as anyone could hope for. His energy, grace, and humility had a lasting impact on many. He will be remembered for his steadfast Christian faith, his love and devotion to friends and family, and his ability to tell a great story. He was, first and foremost, an authentic human being.
Woehrle’s grandson inherited what had become an extra-ordinary timepiece.
I highly recommend you view the documentary: “Stalag Luft III: One Man’s Story,” produced by Charles Woehrle’s niece, Louise Woehrle, Whirlygig Productions.
Former Cook County Commissioner Garry Gamble is writing this ongoing column about the various ways government works, as well as other topics. At times the column is editorial in nature.
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