Reclaiming History
Researching the Untold WWII Story of
Father Viktor Koch, C.P.
by Katherine Koch
When we peruse old family photo albums and look upon formally posed, smiling relatives, an inevitable pattern emerges. We recall vivid details about our parents and grandparents, the humorous anecdotes they shared about life's lessons, the memorable, uplifting moments we spent in their cherished company. For those ancestors who lived and died before our birth, however, the details of their lives elude us, and we find ourselves challenged to remember facts, complex genealogical relationships, and a handful of relevant dates. Eventually their names fade beyond recollection. We encounter them from time to time in crinkle-edged, black-white photographs, their unfamiliar, eternally preserved faces bearing eerie familial resemblance, yet each individual's essence—his distinctive character, favorite aphorisms, life struggles and accomplishments—is lost in time's lengthening shadows.
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| Father Viktor Koch, C.P. |
My great-granduncle Father Viktor Koch, C.P., an unsung Passionist hero who peacefully defied Nazi Germany within the claustrophobic confines of a two-by-four meter church sacristy, nearly slipped beyond family knowledge. I never knew he existed. To my father, the revered Passionist missionary was a vague name that silently staggered along the eroding edge of early childhood memories. Dad vaguely recalled overhearing his parents chatting about a Passionist missionary who worked in Germany, but specific details half-heeded forty years ago had long since faded from memory. While visiting inquisitive family members in Sharon, his northwestern Pennsylvania hometown, Father Viktor discussed the Nazis, life behind enemy lines, the Allied advance, and long-awaited liberation, though he neglected to mention the day he protected Schwarzenfeld's civilian population from enraged American soldiers who misjudged his innocent flock. As a result, his courageous efforts were virtually unknown outside the Bavarian village he loved and defended.
To our great fortune, we reclaimed this extraordinary piece of our family heritage from Mr. Edwin Pancoast, an American veteran who remained stationed in Germany after World War II. In 1997, Mr. Pancoast visited old friends in idyllic Schwarzenfeld, Bavaria. While reminiscing with Frau Zita Mueller, his gracious German hostess, Ed generally avoided discussing the war years out of consideration and a tacit understanding that this delicate topic revived painful memories for the German people. Unlike younger generations who viewed the war through history books, documentaries, and grainy monochromatic pictures, Ed and Zita, reluctant eyewitnesses to conflict and Nazi fascism, still bore heartrending memories of tragedy and horror. On this highly unusual occasion, however, they revisited that somber chapter in their lives. After reflecting upon her own experiences, Zita told her visitor about a courageous Passionist priest who saved Schwarzenfeld's citizens, intervening on their behalf when American troops threatened to destroy the town.
Father Viktor's story entranced Ed. Upon returning to his home in Maryland, he visited the National Archives at College Park and searched the European Theater of Operations (ETO) holdings for Zita's humble spiritual hero. He received helpful information from numerous contacts, including Viktor's grandnephew, Dan Bauer, but the trail soon ran cold. Father Viktor saved Schwarzenfeld over fifty years ago, and important eyewitnesses capable of describing events as they unfolded had already passed away. Ed's last package, addressed to the Mercer County Genealogical Society in Sharon, carried fading hopes of the city acknowledging its native son.
My maternal grandmother, a longtime Sharon resident, called our house in June 2003 and explained that she'd read an editorial in the local newspaper—The Sharon Herald—revealing unknown details about
Father Viktor Koch's World War II era mission. "Is your father related to this priest?" she asked me. I confessed that I'd never heard the name before, though the possibility existed. Subsequent investigation into our family history verified that Nikolaus Koch, who received the name Father Viktor in 1896, was the eldest son born to our German immigrant ancestors Viktoria and Nikolaus Koch. Energized by dreams to forever memorialize Father Viktor's heroism in a magazine article, page-turning book, or History Channel Docu-Drama, my family embarked upon a quest for historical research. Seven months later, the four of us packed into my parents' Saturn, trekked across Pennsylvania's mountainous terrain, and after an eight hour trip, we arrived in Union City, New Jersey, the home of the Passionist Archives.
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