Joseph J. Rous

June 28, 1913 - July 14, 2001

Joseph was born and raised in Cicero, Illinois. His father worked in taverns and restaurants and his mother was the cook at Morton High School where Joe made a name for himself as the star of the soccer team. After high school, Joe worked in restaurants in Chicago's West Side and then for his uncle at R.J. Rous Wholesale Milk & Cream. He met his future wife, Ethel Otis, in 1936. They married in 1938. During those years he also bowled in a semi-professional league, and was a member of one of the first professional soccer teams in the US, the Chicago Sparta. [1, 2]

In August of 1944, Joe was captured while fighting with the 117th Infantry Regiment of the 30th Infantry Division at St. Barthélémy, France, during the Battle of Mortain. Joe's unit had been sent in to relieve another unit.  Their position was an apple orchard on a hill. Not long after they dug in, a German counterattack began. All night they were relentlessly pounded by  88mm Flak being used as artillery. Then at daybreak two German Tiger tanks blasted them and rolled over their position, doing figure eights around the trees to run over all the trenches and foxholes. Joe's foxhole was deeper and more substantial than the others, so he was buried but had room to breathe and wasn't crushed. The sole American survivor, Joe was taken and lined up against a wall to be shot by the Waffen-SS soldiers who accompanied the panzers, when a Wehrmacht captain in a Horch staff car raced up the hill and intervened.  Although Joe became a POW, this man saved his life, and Joe never forgot it. He seldom spoke of his experiences in battle after the war, but the story of how this unnamed "German captain saved my life" was an exception. [3]

In early September,1945, Ethel received the devastating news that Joe was "missing in action". She couldn’t bring herself to believe it, which is a good thing because  his status was revised to “captured” and "POW" in mid January of 1945. [4]

Joe was sent by rail from France to Stalag 7-A in Moosburg, Germany.  The train moved very slowly and stopped often. It was not equipped with anti-aircraft guns to protect the POWs from Allied strafing and bombing, and American planes machined gunned the train filled with American POWs at least three times (and killed several Americans) on the journey from Paris to Moosburg, by way of Strasbourg, Stuttgart and Dachau.  During this ten-day trek the POWs had soup and black bread once a day and as much water as they could slurp up from a hose when the train stopped.  Many of the men lost significant weight and had little to no energy by the time they arrived at Moosburg.

After three months at Stalag 7-A, Joe volunteered for work outside of the camp, for an extra daily ration. The food at Stalag 7-A was sparse and flavorless. For months, Joe worked in the heart of Munich, clearing the roads and rails of rubble, charred wood and twisted steel inflicted by American bombers. Once, during one of these work details, some friendly German soldiers let Joe get a radio message out over a short-wave radio telling his family that he was OK. Incredibly, two ham radio operators in the US heard Joe’s message and sent postcards to his family. [5]

Joe made several good friends at Stalag 7-A. His best friend, Bob Kenney, described Joe as “a peppery blond little fellow who wanted to take on the whole German army and fight them on any issue".  After the war, Bob Kenney wrote, "For some reason, he and I hit it off and we became inseparable for the remainder of my time in captivity. Joe was of Czech descent and particularly detested the Germans. The redeeming factor about Joe was that he had a penchant for neatness and as a result anywhere we stayed was one of the classiest little areas in the compound. Joe and I and another soldier from Tennessee, named [Oliver] Johnson, teamed up for survival.”[6]

In Nussdorf, Joe was assigned to the Kessler family who lived near St. Vitus Church. Joe kept a diary in which he wrote fondly of his time working with the Kesslers. He shared daily meals at the family table. After the terrible food at Stalag 7-A, he found the home cooking delightful, particularly the hearty potato stews. He arrived for work on the Kessler farm every morning between 7:00 and 7:30, except for Sundays. Sundays in Nussdorf were not work days, even for POWs. The one exception was that the cows had to be milked very early on Sunday mornings. Joe participated in every facet of farming life, and the long days forking hay into wagons weren't easy, but it was nice to be outside and interact with friendly Nussdorfers who often stopped by to say hello or brought him something to drink or a chunk of bread or cheese.

Joe was particularly fond of the neighboring Wolfgang Grandauer family. Wolfgang was a 68-year-old First World War veteran, whose son, Georg, had been killed on the Russian Front in 1943. Joe was invited to have Sunday dinner with the Grandauers on at least three occasions in the two months he spent in Nussdorf.  

Liberation

Joe had one story that he was fond of repeating to family, friends, co-workers, and visitors to his home: There was no happier day in his life than when he saw several African American soldiers brandishing .45s,  strutting up Brannenburger Strasse, at the head of the unit that liberated him on May 2, 1945.

Post-War Life

After the war, Joe went back to work for his uncle, later becoming a co-owner of the company with his cousin. 

Joe retired in 1971.  In 1973, Joe, with his oldest son Robert, returned to Nussdorf to visit the Kesslers. Sadly, the Kesslers were gone. However, the Grandauers welcomed them with open arms.  Robert was so impressed with the Grandauers that when his business travels in Europe brought him anywhere near Nussdorf he visited them.  In a recent interview with the author, Robert was thrilled to hear the news that the Grandauers bought the rustic-styled inn and restaurant "Schneiderwirt" in 2001, and in 2021 the wife of the great grandson of Wolfgang Grandauer (also named Wolfgang) was elected mayor of Nussdorf.

Ethel recalled that the few war stories Joe told were typically about funny things that happened to him and others. In his twilight years, he remained active in the community, particularly in the Riverside Lions Club. Of course, he was a soccer aficionado to the end.

Sadly, it wasn’t until 1988, after lobbying by family,  friends, and advocates, that Joe was awarded the long overdue Bronze Star. [7]

[1] Joseph operated the R.J. Rous Wholesale Milk Company with his oldest brother, Rudolph, and his nephew (also Joseph) at 4366 West Ogden Avenue in Chicago’s Lawndale neighborhood, until he retired in 1971.  Source: "News: Joseph J. Rous, 88", The Chicago Tribune, July 19, 2001 at 1:00 AM; The Chicago Sparta ABA (Athletic and Benevolent Association) Soccer Club won seven Chicago League championships between 1930 and 1938, and won the National Challenge Cup in 1938.  ("Chicago’s Soccer History" from https://soccerhistoryusa.org/asha/chicago.html)

[2] The Old Neighborhood Berwyn Cicero Chicago History Page, Facebook post of April 11, 2021; https://www.chicagotribune.com/news/ct-xpm-2001-07-16-0107160106-story.html; Confirmed in Robert L. Hewitt, Work horse of the western front: the story of the 30th Infantry Division (1980) p. 350.

[3] Peter David Orr's telephone interviews with Joe Rous' oldest son, Robert Rous, of Monday, September 9, 2024, 12:00 -1:00 PM & Wednesday, October 16, 2024, 1:30-2:30 PM.

[4] "Six Locals are Interned by Nazi Gov't", Berwyn Life, Jan 19, 1945, p 1.

[5] "Joseph J. Rous, 88", Chicago Tribune, July 19,  2001, p. 29; "Liberated POW", Berwyn Life, June 15, 1945, p. 1.

[6] Robert J. Kenney, Somewhere in France (30th Anniversary Edition), p. 38.

[7] "News: Joseph J. Rous, 88", Chicago Tribune, July 19, 2001 at 1:00 AM.