A Belated Note for VE Day: Uncle Emile, the Ritchie Boy Who Helped Save Us All

Note: I’m sharing this on both my genealogy blog and the site for Nothing Really Bad Will Happen, since it ties into the true family history that inspired the novel.

May 8, 1945—Victory in Europe Day. For millions around the world, it was a moment of celebration: Nazi Germany had surrendered, the war in Europe was over, and the world exhaled. But for my Uncle Emile, stationed in Germany with the 7th Army, VE Day wasn’t a time for joy or champagne. For him, it marked the beginning of a different kind of mission: trying to find the living among the lost.

Emile Speeger was a Ritchie Boy—part of a secretive U.S. Military Intelligence unit made up largely of refugees from Europe. Fluent in multiple languages, they were trained to interrogate prisoners, gather intelligence, and uncover hidden truths. On VE Day, instead of celebrating, Emile wrote home to his sister, Rose (my grandmother). He was hoping to find his sister, Claire. (He used her Dutch name, Claartje) “There’ll be no easy trip,” he wrote, “but I shall leave nothing untried.”

Here is the transcription of that letter:

Dear Rosl,

This is VE Day and have lost no time in trying to make arrangments to see whether I can find Claartje. If I also got my commanding officer’s permission – I may be on my way very soon, pray that I find her alive. It will be no easy trip but I shall leave nothing untried. If only someone was hiding her near the old castle, she would be safe.

Have had a little stomach trouble lately and shall wait in any event until I feel well enough. Any attempt through the International Red Cross to obtain information about missing persons could be futile now— it could take many months before I would even get a preliminary reply. As soon as possible I shall contact channels re. the folks in Holland. Aunt Barendse probably is no more—the Bäcks, Freddy, and son. Terry—Max—who knows where they are. Coetloff writes he rather hopes his mother is dead, rather than have had to go through all this misery. His home was in Zutphen. His Dad was a doctor in Arnheim. Well, we shall see what the future will bring. Take care of yourself.

Love to Mother and all of you.

Emile.

Just a few days later, he wrote again—this time from Augsburg. In the letter, he described what his comrades had seen at Dachau. Some had arrived in the very first wave. He recounted how prisoners took brutal vengeance on SS guards, how others tried to disguise themselves and were found out, and how justice, rough as it was, was immediate. “Too bad I was not there on the day of reckoning,” he added dryly. “I could have paid the personal respects from Paul.”

Here is a transcription of that letter:

Augsburg, Bavaria 

14 May 1945. 

Dear Rosl, 

Most of the news is contained in letter to Mother. Did you buy her the present I asked you to for Mother’s Day? 

Tell Paul that most of his predictions came true – as far as Dachau and Buchenwald was concerned. Some of the boys of the Company were here in the very beginning when American troops first arrived in Dachau. The poor S.S. guards did not find the prisoners in too good a mood on that day, some of them had the bad fortune to have their brains split open by the nasty inmates, while American troops poured lead into others or bayoneted them where they saw them. Some of the guards quickly tried to change into Prisoner’s clothing but again those naughty prisoners would always detect them quickly enough to cut their throat. Too bad I was not there on day of reckoning, I could have paid the personal respects from Paul. 

So this one chapter of the war – but for many the war is not over. With 3 battle stars I only have a total of 64 points – more of course than those in the States could amass but still less than needed for discharge at this moment. All I can do is wait and see. 

Hope you are all well – Love to all.

Emile

P.S. Shall I send some Nazi souvenirs to Dorli?  

The war may have ended on paper, but for Emile—and for many others—the reckoning had only begun.

He wasn’t discharged until August 1945. Even then, he stayed in Europe to work with the American Red Cross. In the summer of 1946, Emile wrote home from Munich with photos—taken in none other than Eva Braun’s former house, where he had been billeted. Leave it to Emile to live in Hitler’s girlfriend’s home and still send snarky commentary on the back of every picture:

Emile sent these photos to his mother, Sophie (my great-grandmother) along with a note to his niece, Doris (my mother), asking her to be careful with the pictures he is sending to his mother, “Go easy on them…kindly wash your hands when you look at them…” He should have put a warning on the pictures themselves! The pictures survived beautifully…for more than 70 years. Until Emile’s grandniece (me!) decided to brush the dust off one.

This 1946 photo of the fireplace in Eva Braun’s Munich home—where my Uncle Emile was stationed after the war—was nearly lost when I tried to wipe off the dust. The damage is now part of its story. A literal and metaphorical reminder: some histories are fragile, and some ghosts don’t like being scrubbed.

After the war, Emile stayed in Europe, eventually managing European operations for a U.S.-based mutual fund. He spoke four languages fluently, led a staff of 30 from Munich, and continued building a life shaped by war, displacement, and resilience. But long before any of that, in 1938, Emile did something that changed the course of my family’s story: he offered my grandmother a place to stay when she fled Vienna.

Some readers of Nothing Really Bad Will Happen may remember Emile makes a brief appearance. In earlier drafts, he had a larger role—until my writing coach gently pointed out, “This section is all about Emile—it pulls the reader out of the story. He deserves his own. story.” She was right. He does. And maybe one day, I’ll give him that. But today, on this VE Day (even belated), I’m sharing just a little of what made him unforgettable.

This was VE Day for him. Not a finish line, but a continuation. A vow to keep searching. And a reminder that even after the guns go silent, the real work isn’t always done.