So many names. So many stories. So much pain.
More than 20 years ago I began researching my family’s history after I had a project in a history class in college. After hearing a few stories, digging into some records, and attending a couple of Czech Genealogy Society conference in Chicago (and being the youngest person in attendance), I was hooked. Years passed and life happened and then the time came to fulfill a dream I’d had since that course – to have my own genealogy business. Seven years ago I started that business. Interestingly, the genealogy clients and work only lasted about three years. The universe and my ancestors had other plans for me. To explore World War I and World War II research. Little did I know when I began that journey, that it would lead me to sad, dark places.
Since I started researching my family’s involvement in both World Wars, a lot has happened. Genealogy, for me, was never exhausting and emotionally draining, sad, and depressing. Military research though, for me, has a tendency to be so. I realized this happens in part because I’m constantly channeling soldiers and other people connected to not only the World Wars but in all time, dimension, and reality. I’m also healing myself and I apparently agreed to heal my ancestors and children, and all these souls and entities who show up, in the process. Though over the last year I have learned how to not be consumed by this.
Explaining the healing part of my life and work has not always been easy. Having an awareness of the peace, answers, and forgiveness the dead seek, in part through me, often leaves me sad, confused, and determined to share the knowledge I have with the world. How do you explain the generational trauma that you were never fully aware of most of your life? How do you explain the sadness that arises through research or the feeling of coming home, to a place you’ve never been in this life?
I’ve learned I’m not the only person working to heal themselves and the past, to contribute to a better future. Several people have entered my world in the last two years, who focus on healing through their own businesses and projects.
Today I was in the Holocaust Educator’s group on Facebook and read the article by a woman named Donna, who is about to embark on her second trip to Poland. She so beautifully explained in her article why she was returning to the place of her ancestors, it brought tears to my eyes and chills to my body. Then I visited her website, Healing From War, and read more, particularly her article called, “Let the Healing Begin!” from 2016, when she made her first trip to Poland.
As I read her article, I felt a connection because it seems as if she channels her family members too. Hearing their voices and things that float through her mind like the song she mentions, that she would not have experienced in this life. How much of her family’s trauma does she carry? How much is she able to heal, not only for herself but all who came before her?
The sense of going home really struck a nerve with me too. I don’t often hear people express this.
I’ve felt that in many places in Europe. The first time being in April 2015 when I visited my first ABMC cemetery – Normandy. It was probably good that was my first and not Luxembourg, where my cousin is buried. That cemetery was to be visited at the end of that trip, where I made arrangements to fly his burial flag from 1949.
When I arrived at Normandy Cemet
ery, the tears began to flow and increased as I moved through the visitor’s center. In fact, I couldn’t even “enjoy” the visitor’s center and really read through everything because it was too painful. Too many voices, too many souls vying for attention, waiting to be heard. The tears continued to flow until I climbed the steps to enter the cemetery itself.
Then peace. No more tears.
I heard, “We’re so happy you finally came home!” as thousands of voices cheered.
There were other places I’ve experienced that in Europe, connected to significant places and also visiting places my family members fought and died, and soldier’s I’ve researched. Sometimes those places were connected to past lives, the details of which may not have been known, but felt.
For a long time I felt mostly alone in the processing of all this until a few people entered my life to help me learn techniques to heal myself and the past. And new people and new techniques continue to show up. I’m so grateful.
How many of my readers are moving through the process of healing themselves and the past? Did you know you’re not alone? I’d love to hear from you and know about your website if you are writing about your experiences of healing the past and the war. By sharing these stories, we can contribute to a much different future than we can imagine.
© 2017 World War II Research and Writing Center











Yesterday I was interviewed and filmed for the business, in Chicago at the Pritzker Military Museum and Library. People strolled in and out of the building while we were filming and one young woman listened to the stories I told as Scott asked questions while he filmed. She and I had several short conversations about the work I do, the History degree I have (Bachelor only) and the adventurous, inspirational, traveling, healing, love-filled life I have created with my business. She too has a history degree. It reminded me that several years ago I gave a talk at my alma mater, The University of Missouri-Rolla – now Missouri S&T, to the history club about thinking outside the box. I’d like to share a few thoughts with history majors around the world and let you know, there are many other choices available besides going for your Masters or Ph.D. and teaching or being a scholar. ANYTHING is possible if you choose it.
comes next?
Maastricht, the most southern city of the Netherlands, was liberated on the 13th and 14th of September 1944. The Ninth Army established its headquarters in Maastricht and stayed there for about five months.
About 800 American soldiers were in Maastricht and surroundings, in part preparing for Germany. They were also protecting the area and Antwerp harbour (all the American supplies were there) from V1’s and V2’s, launched from Germany.
127th AAA and 131st AAA Gun battalion had their gunpits in Maastricht and in the neighbourhood. It was their responsibility to protect the whole area from attacks by planes and bombs. The soldiers belonging to these units were the ones who took down enemy planes and the so called Buzz-bombs. In many cases they succeeded as reports show and Antwerp harbour was “safe”.
In the meantime the coldest winter of the 20th century arrived and the soldiers had to do their duty under extreme circumstances. In the days around Christmas it was minus 32F, extremely cold, and some had to sleep in their tents. An American chaplain, Father Dobrzynski, together with some Brothers of the Immaculate Conception of Maastricht, thought about how to give the boys a kind of Christmas Feeling in these days. They knew of a cave, the Schark cave, which was very safe, and where a Mass could be held on Christmas Eve.
The cave was prepared. Sal Barravecchia, one of the soldiers, created a beautiful mural in which he showed how Freedom was guarded from all sides. About 260 American soldiers attended Mass. After Mass they had coffee and donuts. Most of the soldiers were staying Maastricht, and some came from the Ardennes, where the fighting in the Battle of the Bulge was raging on. They were taken to Maastricht by their trucks.
After Mass they all wrote their names on the wall with charcoal. This wall is still preserved.
The website itself shows some pictures of the Christmas Eve Mass in 1944, taken by American soldiers.
Yearly Commemoration
Every year the Foundation of the Commemoration of the American Christmas Celebration 1944 ( abbr. SHAK1944) organizes a Christmas Eve Mass to commemorate those brave boys who fought for the Liberty of Europe. Every year about 200 American soldiers attend this Service, together with their superiors, the American Ambassador or his representative, the King’s Commissioner of the province of Limburg, the Mayor of Maastricht and some other people. Sometimes a veteran himself or his relatives attend Mass as well.
Requesting Your Help
Not all the names on the wall can be read, because sometimes people swept their coats along the walls or tried to touch the names. We, the SHAK board, would like to know whether there are families who know that their grandfather attended Mass in 1944. Are there sons, daughters, grandchildren or other relatives who could help us in completing the list of names?
Should you be interested, the list of names is presented on our website. There are even some letters written by soldiers the day after the Mass.
We would be very grateful for any information.