In September 1944, near Richecourt, France, a skinny 14-year-old boy in an oversized German uniform approached the American 90th Infantry Division. He was Fritz Schulz, a German refugee who had lost his parents and was pressed into the Wehrmacht at 13. He had walked 47 miles barefoot through enemy territory to reach the Americans.
Fritz was put to work in the mess hall but followed his unit into combat anyway, carrying ammunition, running through mortar fire to deliver messages, and refusing to leave wounded men behind.
When his foxhole collapsed during a bombardment, Fritz dug his way out, then spent four hours pulling his friend John from the rubble with nothing but his hands and a mess kit lid.
Fritz was awarded the Silver Star, the Bronze Star, and three Purple Hearts before his discharge at age 16. He returned to Pennsylvania, became a schoolteacher, and every year on the anniversary of that rescue, he placed a single white flower on John's desk. John adopted two German war orphans in 1947. Fritz never married. When a student asked why he risked his life, he replied: Because they were the first people who ever treated me like I was worth something.