by Terry Bohle Montague

Emma

In Germany, one day in 1904, Emma Gering came home to find a religious tract pushed under her door.  She picked it up and read an introduction to a church established in America during the 1800s.  As she read, her heart filled with recognition and wonder. 

When Emma was a young girl, her father told her of a prophet of God being killed in far-away America.  Now, a mother and grandmother, she felt the first stirrings of spiritual knowledge, a testimony that what she was reading was true.

She searched through the tract but was unable to discover how she could contact those who had left it. 

Not long after that, Emma moved to the town of Gotha.  She was on her way out of her apartment building one day when she was approached by a young American man.  In his hand, he held a tract, the same one Emma had found under her door.  Immediately, she invited him into her apartment where she first heard the story of Joseph Smith. 

Excited, she took the tract to her daughter, Ida Rosenhan, and told her what she had learned.

Ida

Ida had always been particularly interested in religion and, after her husband, Willy, left for work that night, she tucked her two small boys into bed and sat down to read the tract.  She was not far into her reading when the room seemed to fill with an unusual, fearful presence.  She wrote, “The room was full of sounds so that even the wallpaper seemed to crackle.” 

Frightened, Ida slipped into bed and lay awake, restless and anxious, until about four a.m. when she realized the presence in her room was trying to keep her from reading the tract.  With a new resolve to finish reading it at first light, she fell into a peaceful sleep. 

The tract convinced her of the truthfulness of the gospel taught by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  She told Willy about it and that she wanted to attend the Church’s next Sunday meeting but he was not interested in going with her.  

The meeting opened with the hymn, Oh My Father and Ida was so touched by its message, she knew she had found the truth.  Her baptism was set for January 14, 1905.  Because of antagonism toward the church, it was necessary for the baptism to be held at midnight in a canal a two-hour walk from her home in Gotha.  

The temperature that night was below freezing and snow covered the ground.  Ice sparkled in the dried grass and trees.  After coming out of the dark frigid water, Ida  paused next to a tree and, with her hair and clothes frozen to her body, bowed her head.  She thanked God for the gospel and that she had been allowed to find it.  After changing her clothes, she made the long trip back home. 

Willy was not interested in Ida’s membership in the new church, nor in hearing about its teachings, claiming that if any missionaries came to his house, he would throw them out. 

The only thing Ida could do was pray for her husband. 

One evening, he came into their bedroom to find Ida kneeling.  He said, “What have you become that you should crawl around on your knees?”

“Christ knelt in the Garden of Gethsemane,” Ida replied, “so why not a sinner like me?”

Her answer touched Willy’s heart.  He went to his wife and embraced her tenderly.  They prayed together.

“That seemed to soften him up a bit,” Ida said.

With hope, she invited the missionaries to their home but did not tell Willy they were coming.  Instead, she acted surprised when they appeared at their door, hoping Willy would not send them away.  To her surprise, Willy went into the bedroom, changed into his Sunday coat, and sat down to listen.

When they showed him the tract, his face filled with astonishment.  He told them about a dream he had as a child.  It was of a place, a city in a valley that seemed so vivid to Willy that his mother, at last, told him to stop talking about it.  But the memory of it lingered.  He told them the city in his dream was the city pictured in the tract.  Salt Lake City.

On April 29, 1905, Willy, Emma, and Ida’s sister, Nancy, were baptized.  The following year, Willy and Ida, with their two boys, left Germany for the city of his dream, Salt Lake City.

The Rosenhans had seven more children in the next seventeen years, making a family of eleven when Willy was called to serve a mission in Germany in 1923.  He returned to Salt Lake City two and a half years later and died shortly afterward at the age of 45.

With nine children to raise, Ida did what she could, taking in sewing and opening their Salt Lake City home to boarders.

The Rosenhan’s seventh child, Erma, recalled there was always someone at their table.

Erma

As Erma became a young woman and received her Patriarchal Blessing, she was told the greatest service she could render was to lead others to eternal salvation.  It went on, admonishing her to seek the dead of her family.  “That was pretty clear,” she said, “I didn’t have much of a choice.” 

During the mid-1930s, Erma’s heart turned to missionary work, desiring to serve in her parent’s homeland of Germany.  While there, she might also find her family’s genealogical records.  Unfortunately, circumstances of that time thwarted the tall, willowy girl at every turn.

America was recovering from a nationwide economic depression that left the majority of its citizens struggling for survival.  Erma’s family was no different.  Money for a mission would be difficult to come by, but the family agreed to try to help her.  Finding extra work and saving what they could, Erma’s fund grew slowly.  Then, when she had sufficient money for her mission, the Church announced it would no longer send female missionaries into Europe. 

With the rise of Adolf Hitler and his Nazi party in Germany, a sense of unrest and suspicion grew among the people of Europe.  The Church continued to send male missionaries to the East and West German Missions, but kept a wary eye on that country’s activities.

In patience and in faith, Erma waited.  Then, a female, fellow-member of the Tabernacle Choir was called to serve in the East German Mission.  When Erma heard, she went to the Church Mission Secretary, Harold G. Reynolds, the missionary who had approached Erma’s grandmother in Gotha.  Erma gave him all the reasons she should serve a mission in Germany, the chief among them being to gather her family’s genealogical records.

“I shouldn’t give too much of an argument,” he said when she was finished.

West German Mission

Erma was called to the West German Mission.

She was in the Salt Lake City Mission Home during the autumn of 1938 when Germany marched into Czechoslovakia.  Everyone feared another Great War was at hand and Church leaders ordered all American missionaries serving in Czechoslovakia and in the East and West German Missions evacuated to Holland. In spite of the political crisis, Erma never doubted she would serve a mission in Germany. 

In October, peace negotiators declared the peace had been preserved in Europe and, at the end of the month, Sister Rosenhan arrived in Germany.  She was assigned to a German companion, Sister Lydia Heible, who would become her lifelong friend.

To research her family history, Sister Rosenhan hired a German member to find and copy her family records. 

Hitler had begun making demands on Poland for the land along their common border.  With France and England’s support, Poland resisted and people everywhere asked, “Will there be another war?”  They were not interested in hearing the gospel.  Though Sister Rosenhan devoted herself to learning the German language and missionary service, the work moved slowly in 1938 and 1939.

Those serving in the West German Mission became even more aware of the growing possibility of a war.  Those in port cities saw huge gunships being built.  Manufacturing plants turned out military vehicles instead of cars.  In small city airports, an unusually large number of pilots were being trained.

In 1939, toward the end of the summer, fresh fruits and vegetables became scarce.  The bakeries were forced to make bread from a poor grade of flour and extended with saw dust.  The government announced that, on Sundays, Germans should eat only an inexpensive one-dish meal, like soup, and save any money they would have spent on food to be donated to the government for the production of guns and ammunition.

At the beginning of August, 1939, West German Mission President, M. Douglas Wood, cautioned his missionaries to be ready to evacuate to Holland at any time.

Toward the middle of August, long columns of trucks, tanks, and soldiers crossed Germany, headed east to Poland.

On August 17, Sister Rosenhan received a package containing her genealogy.  As well, the genealogist had included the names of all the residents of her family’s village of origin.  Sister Rosenhan carefully re-wrapped the sheets and posted them home, to her family in America. 

Eight days later, on the evening of August 25, Sister Rosenhan and Sister Heible were visiting the Essen home of Brother and Sister Paul Kuepper when word came that the First Presidency had ordered all American missionaries to leave Germany immediately.           

Sister Rosenhan’s heart sank.   

Leaving Germany

She and Sister Heible went to the home of Branch President Walter Biehl who had contacted the Frankfurt Mission Office by telephone.  He had been told an elder was on his way to Essen to escort Sister Rosenhan safely out of the country.  She must be ready to leave when he came for her.

President Biehl gave Sister Rosenhan an unusual but inspired piece of counsel.   He told that instead of buying a ticket to Rotterdam, Holland she should buy a ticket to London by way of Rotterdam.  Sister Rosenhan realized if she was to have a ticket to London, she would also need a British visa. 

Paul Kuepper took her into town on the back of his motorcycle.  They stopped at the Essen-West railway station and learned a train was leaving for points east at 8:04 the following morning.  Then she and Brother Kuepper rode to the British Consulate for a visa but found the building dark.  Upon investigation, they learned the British Consul had left the country two weeks earlier and no one knew where the representative lived. 

They went to the police station to have Sister Rosenhan’s passport stamped.  An officer told her the necessary stamp was locked up for the night.  She would have to return at 7:30 a.m. to have her passport validated.

Undaunted, Sister Rosenhan declared when her escort came for her, she was leaving whether her passport was stamped or not. 

The policeman objected.  She would not be allowed to cross the border without the appropriate stamp on her papers. 

“Our Prophet has told us we have to go and I have to follow my Prophet.” she insisted.

At her apartment, Sister Rosenhan packed.

The minutes and hours of the night passed, but no missionary came for her.  She lay down on the bed and tried to rest.  Fearing falling asleep, she got up again.  She paced the floor, often going to the window and looking up and down the dark street.

At about 2 a.m., Sister Rosenhan noticed lights coming on in the apartments starting at the end of the street. A figure was going from door to door.  By the time the man came to her apartment building, she recognized the mail carrier. 

Cheerfully, he called to her from the street, “Fraulein, it is late.  Why are you still up?”

“I’m getting ready to leave Germany,” she answered.

“You needn’t go,” he replied, teasing lightly.  “Things are not as bad as that.”

“They are bad enough that the President of my Church has ordered all the American missionaries to leave.” 

The man sobered.  He told her he was out that night delivering draft notices for those required to report that same day.  He was also to report.  The man was silent for a moment, then added, sadly, “I leave two children at home.”

Sister Rosenhan watched and worried through the long night, but the missionary who was supposed to come for her did not arrive.  It was 5:00 a.m.  There was a train leaving Essen at 8:04 that morning and, even if it meant going alone, even if it meant being frightened, Sister Rosenhan knew she could wait no longer.  President Grant and President Wood said she had to go and that was what she would do.

District President Walter Biehl, and his brothers came to her apartment with a hand truck and loaded her luggage on it.  Then she, Sister Heible, and the Biehls, walked to the Essen-West depot, pushing the loaded cart.  At the station, they were told Sister Rosenhan’s trunk could not be checked onto the train at that depot. She would have to take them across the city to the main railway station. 

Although the distance was not too far to walk, little time remained for all that had to be done, so President Biehl called for a taxi.  When the cab arrived, the driver was willing to take the passengers into Essen but refused to take Sister Rosenhan’s trunk.  He claimed the added weight burned too much gasoline.  All the available fuel had been allocated to the military that day and the cab had been rationed only a few liters. When that was gone, there would be no more. 

After a lengthy argument, the driver agreed to take the trunk.  They loaded the luggage into the taxi and headed for the main railway station.

The cabby told his passengers, the taxi in which they rode was the last available in the city.  All other vehicles, including those owned by private individuals, were being commandeered by the military. 

When they arrived at the main station, one of the Biehls stayed with the cab to keep the driver from taking another fare while Sister Rosenhan hurried into the depot and checked her trunk to the Dutch border.  As President Biehl counseled, she bought a second class ticket to London via Rotterdam.

From the station, the group went back to the British Consulate but it was still locked and seemingly empty. 

At 7:40, the taxi took them to the police station.  The officers on morning duty had been told of Sister Rosenhan’s visit the night before and they had the necessary stamp ready for her passport.  With only a few minutes before the 8:04 a.m. train’s departure, President Biehl ordered the cab driver to stop in front of his home so his family could say good-bye to Sister Rosenhan.

From the taxi, President Biehl whistled the first four notes, “Do What Is Right,” a signal among the members of the West German Mission.

Immediately, the windows on the second floor opened and all the Biehls appeared.  Sister Biehl was weeping.  She called to her husband, telling him that while he was helping Sister Rosenhan that morning, his military summons had arrived.  He was to report to his military unit that day.  President Biehl slumped back in his seat. 

The taxi raced to the station.

Since, by law, no one could take more than ten marks (about $2.50) out of the country, Sister Rosenhan gave her extra money to President Biehl and tearfully said good-bye to her friends.  She found a seat on the train and, from a window, looked for the last time into the faces of Lydia Heible and President Biehl.  All three wept as the train pulled out of the station.

The train rolled toward the city of Emmerich on the German side of the German-Dutch border.  In the open fields, manned anti-aircraft guns stood in position.

The Emmerich railway depot, noisy and jammed with hundreds of people attempting to leave Germany, was in a state of wild confusion.  Frantic Holland-bound passengers sought in vain for someone who would change their extra marks into Dutch guilders.  The money changers, who normally did a brisk and lucrative business in the border station, were no where to be found.

On Her Own

The baggage master worked at a furious pace.  Almost as quickly as the train came to a halt, the handlers pitched the trunks out of the baggage cars onto the platform.  Sister Rosenhan cornered her trunk just as quickly and paid to have it sent on to Holland.  She expected to meet other evacuating missionaries in the Emmerich station and was surprised to find she was the only Mormon missionary in the depot.

As her train sped toward Holland, there was little to mark the Dutch border, only a barbed wire barricade and a line of small concrete blocks intended to obstruct armored tanks. 

With a leaden heart, Sister Rosenhan stared out the window.  She had spent ten months in Germany, learned the language fairly well and had her genealogy traced.  She met and visited with her German relatives and made many friends among the German people.  With deep regret and in spite of a war everyone knew would come, she wished she did not have to leave.

At Zevenaar, a small Dutch town not far from the border, the official checked Sister Rosenhan’s papers.  Her passport was in order and she had a ticket to London.  Without opening her baggage, he waved her through. 

Again, she was puzzled and a little frightened to find neither missionaries nor Americans in the Zevenaar station. 

Sister Rosenhan arrived in Rotterdam sometime during the afternoon.  She watched for other missionaries, but, as in all other stations, there were none.  With no idea where the Dutch Mission Office or American Consulate was and with no money to make a telephone call, she approached a woman who wore an interpreter’s armband. 

Had she seen any Americans, any missionaries? 

The woman shook her head and gestured she did not understand.

Exhausted, hungry, scared, and feeling totally alone, Sister Rosenhan stood in the rapidly emptying railway station and silently prayed for help.

She walked to the platform gate and peered through the bars.  On the other side, stood a tall young man, his back to her. 

“Do you speak English?” she called.

Startled, the young man jumped and spun around.  “Are you one of those?”

“Yes!” she replied with a heart full of relief.

The young man was a Dutch missionary sent to the railway station to watch for evacuating West German missionaries.  Having express orders to remain as inconspicuous as possible, he’d been watching for elders, not a lone sister.

Sister Rosenhan was the first West German missionary to cross the border into Holland.   President Franklin Murdock assigned her to a pair of sister missionaries serving in The Hague.

A few other West German missionaries managed to cross the German-Dutch border while several elders escaped into Switzerland.  Most of the remaining West German missionaries were turned back at the Dutch border and forced to find their own way to Denmark, the only country whose border had not closed.

On Friday, September 1, Germany invaded Poland.  The following Sunday, Great Britain and France declared war on Germany and the first shots were fired over the Rhine.

Missionaries Sent Home Due to War

On Thursday, September 5, the Church leadership announced missionaries who had been out more than two years would be released and sent home.  Those who had served less than six months would be re-assigned to other missions.

For Sister Rosenhan, that meant the Southern States Mission.

With other evacuated West German missionaries, Sister Rosenhan boarded the S.S. Pennland.  It was a Dutch steamer that had the name “Holland” spelled in electric lights on its sides in order that it would not be mistaken by the French or English for a German ship or by the German U-boats for an English or French ship.   Lights were also strung from the smoke stacks.  The lifeboats had already been lowered to deck level. On board were 500 passengers fleeing Europe.  That was 300 more than the ship was designed to carry. 

An English navigator piloted the ship through the mined waters of the English Channel.  The passengers saw, not only destroyers, but a network of barrage balloons on the British coastline.  The balloons were intended to snare enemy aircraft should they attempt to enter British air space.

Sister Rosenhan wrote in her journal about a young woman with whom she shared a small cabin.  The woman was an American married to a German officer.  When the war was declared, he insisted she return to the United States. “She cried the first two days out,” Sister Rosenhan wrote.

Although their crossing was uneventful, the passengers had been anxious for their safe arrival.  On October 6, 1939, they gratefully disembarked in New York City.  Sister Rosenhan left for southern Georgia to complete her mission.

After her mission release, Erma returned to Salt Lake City and found a job in the Church Offices, typing membership records and sending out mail.  As the Church grew, Erma became a bookkeeper in the Finance Office and, eventually, the Supervisor of Accounts Payable.  

Important Work Continued

During the 41 years of her employment with the Church, she worked on her genealogy, beginning with the records given to her by the German researcher, eventually hiring other researchers to help with her growing lists of families.  At last, she found she had to learn to read old German script in order to continue her search. A fellow Church employee who was German offered to teach Erma and they spent their lunch hours in the vault going over old records.

Erma also continued to sing and travel with the Tabernacle Choir.

Her retirement in the early 1980s freed Erma to devote her time exclusively to genealogical research.  Since then she has researched, recorded, and submitted approximately 450 names every two months for temple ordinances.

Each week-day, Erma goes to the Family History Library at about nine in the morning and stays until 5:00 in the afternoon.  “ I used to go until 6:30 but I can’t do that anymore,” she said.  She found that simplifying her life keeps her focused on her task.  On Saturdays, she prepares her meals for the coming week in order to give more time to her research.  “It’s been a lot of hard work but I’ve still got so much to do.” 

“I think of all those people who want their work done.  Who will look for them?  Who will do it?  I often think, if I was one of those people, who would come and look for me? 

“I hope the Lord will bless me with health and strength to find all the records that are available for those people.”  She paused, then laughed, “Yipe!  There’s too much to do!”

Erma keeps busy with other activities, too.  At 88, she sings in her ward choir, serves as the Sunday School Secretary, and is an active Visiting Teacher.  She is also in the process of reading a German Book of Mormon for the second time.

“Oh, sometimes I still get ornery.  I’m ornery enough, but then I ask the Lord to forgive me.”  She laughs.  “I believe in Eternal Repentance.”

“I’m so grateful for the gospel.  The Lord has been with me.  He was with me in getting out of Germany.  Oh, the Lord has blessed me, you can’t believe.  Without the Lord’s help, I couldn’t have done the things I’ve done.  I’m so grateful for his help.  I’m so grateful for the gospel.  I know it is true.” 

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Among the descendants of Willy and Ida Rosenhan are seventy returned missionaries.

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Sources:

Interviews, Erma Rosenhan, August, 1984; April 2003;

August 2003 Letter, Erma Rosenhan, September, 1984

Some portions of this text have been extracted from Mine Angels Round About by Terry Bohle Montague

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