Herrlisheim Pres Colmar, France — It was an unexpected meeting of a lifetime that I’m certain François Thomann and I will always remember.

I met 87-year-old François at his home in the tiny commune of Herrlisheim Pres Colmar, France, at 10 am April 6th on a warm, sunny spring day.

I drove down the narrow streets toward his home in my BMW X3 rental car. I squeezed down the street until I arrived at the home of François and his 90-year-old lovely wife. François excitedly came out his front door smiling and waving to me.

In my research to write my book about my Father-in-Law Haig Derderian’s experiences serving in a Tank Battallion in the U.S. 12th Armored Division in World War 2, I met Francois in an extraordinary way.

So, why was I in this small town of 1,982 people in rural France, 40 miles south of Strasbourg? Stay tuned for a minute.

To put this into perspective, in my book research, I’ve collected over a thousand pages of documents detailing what Haig and his 714th Tank Battalion Company B did throughout France, Germany, and Austria in late 1944 and 1945. I collected many of these through Heather Steele, CEO of the World War 2 History Project. Through the U.S.National Archives in College Park, MD, she collected morning reports, daily journals, after-action reports, and detailed maps about the 714th daily tasks, battles, and movements.

A major focus in my book is a horrific battle involving Haig and his 12th Armored Division. Back on Jan. 8th, 1945, Haig and his tank battalion were the first unit into the tiny commune of Herrlisheim bis Rhin, France — about 20 miles north of Strasbourg — when they hit a wall of Nazis. The German army had just launched Adolph Hitler’s Operation Nordwind, which was the dictator’s plan to overtake Strasbourg and cut off the American military’s supply lines.

It took Haig and the 12th Armored Division 10 days to defeat the Germany army in Herrlisheim. But the battle took its toll, claiming thousands of American soldiers lives, plus tanks and other U.S. weaponry.

So, while I have an enormous amount of military data and information about battles in the area around Herrlisheim bis Rhin, I needed to get the perspective from people in France who lived through the war and hear their stories so that I could tell them to you and the world.

While doing research one day recently, I ran across the name of François Thomann, who was mentioned on the Herrlisheim Pres Colmar community website as the Honorary Mayor of the village. Without knowing anything about François, I thought to myself that I have to meet him.

Through research, I found his son Serge Thomann, who lives in Melbourne, Australia. I told Serge that I was writing a book about my Father-in-Law, his service in the tank battalion, and the 12th Armored Division that liberated French towns like François’.

Serge emailed his father and he agreed to meet with me. But he cautioned me that his father doesn’t speak English and only speaks French and that German is his second language. I thought, I’ve got this! I speak some German.

So, we set it up so that I would meet at Francois’ home the morning of April 6th at his house.

As I arrived, François excitedly stepped out his front door smiling and waving. I exited the car, walked up to François, and we firmly shook hands, tapped each others arms and greeted each other. He invited me into his beautiful home and I met his lovely wife, who turns 90 at the end of April.

François guided me into his well-appointed and elegant-looking dining area and we sat at the table. He pulled out three books that he had written on the war and one that honored an anniversary of the war in the village.

I turned on my recorder, fortunately, because once Francois started speaking German, it was like a NASCAR race had just begun. OK…I know some German. But, François was speaking it about as fast as a SpaceX rocket launch. I picked up about 30 percent of what he was saying, but listened very intently, nodded as he spoke, and answered as best I could when he asked me a question.

François excitedly told me about the commemorations of the war in the town and a monument that was erected after the war in the village honoring civilians who died in the battles.

After François told me about the books and his experiences (more in my next blog and in the book), the biggest moment of our language barrier occurred. I heard Mittagessen, which meant lunch. I heard fahren mit mein auto, which means `drive in the car.’ But I was stuck on that — until François changed his word from village (which I don’t know the word) to Stadt, which means city.

François was asking me if I wanted to drive with him through the village to see sites that had been destroyed in a battle in February 1945, then go have lunch with him. I agreed, and so we went on our journey together.

We got in François’ car and he drove me around the streets of Herrlisheim Prez Colmar, stopping at various sites that had been damaged in a battle between the 12th Armored Division troops and the Germans. He continued speaking in mixed German and French, but I recorded his voice and will figure it out later with Google Translate.

Our second stop was at a house that had the top half of it destroyed by a U.S. M-4 Sherman tank in February 1945. Two 14-year-old French children were killed in that explosion.

François and I walked up to the house where the explosion occurred and met with the homeowner Georges Boll. Georges was wearing a blue track outfit and painting a wrought iron fence with a paint brush. Fortunately, he spoke some English.

Georges walked me and François into his yard. He told me that in February 1945, a U.S. Sherman tank had crushed through the gate (one like he was painting when we met). It entered the back yard and parked next to a wall. He said the electricity had been knocked out for several days at the house, so the tank connected its battery to a wire on the wall leading to the house. The house now had electricity, he explained.

The next day, more Sherman tanks rolled into town. As one approached the house, Georges said that his aunt, who was 14 years old, got so excited that she grabbed a French flag and went to the top of the house to welcome the American soldiers. Her friend went with her.

She was just so excited,’ ‘ Georges said. She was welcoming them and she was waving the flag back and forth and telling them to come into town.”

But the Americans in the tank didn’t understand and they fired at the rooftop, destroying the top half of the house, and killing the 2 children.

Their names are on the monument in the center of the village. Georges walked me and François across the street to the monument and pointed out their names.

In German, I apologized to Georges. Das tut mir leid, I said. `No problem,’ he said. That’s just part of war.

By now, the language barrier seemed to be getting better. I was understanding more German, and my French vocabulary even grew from 10 words to about 20 words. Fortunately, Francois was extremely patient with my limited German language skills. His lack of understanding the English language didn’t bother me, because speaking in English was entirely out of the question.

After several more stops in town, François said Mittagessen? I said said, ja, gehen wir zum mittagessen. Let’s go to lunch.

He drove us to the neighboring town of Eguisheim where we stopped at a restaurant called Auberge Alsacienne. We dined outside in the beautiful warm, sunny weather. The streets were bustling with people. I even saw a large group of young women all wearing matching pink shirts. One of the young women in the group wore a white shirt that said bride.

We looked at the menu — all in French. I recognized a French word for chicken and pointed to it. François and I both ordered the chicken in wine sauce with pasta. And we ordered two beers each and suddenly, I started understanding everything François was saying.

As we left, we met a French couple in their early 70s at the table next to us. They spoke French and François interpreted what they were saying into German. François explained to them that I was writing a book and learning about his experiences during the war. I showed a picture of my father-in-law in front of a Sherman tank and the man’s eyes at the table opened wide with excitement. He said he remembered working on Sherman tanks years earlier after the war when the U.S. Army still had bases in France.

François was much more comfortable speaking French as German was his second language. After we left the restaurant, he spoke only French to me. But it didn’t matter. I got everything that I needed. I could tell that François was filled with happiness. He was speaking rapidly in French, pointing out something on the left with his finger in the village of Eguisheim, pointing out something on the right, something straight ahead. I heard the French words for school, church, and car. They meant something to Francois.

We left there for his home where Francois would drop me off at my car. As we parked, we said goodbyes in French, German, English, and I may have heard Italian. We got out of the car and I saw François’ sweet wife, smiling, and waving to me. I walked up to her, gently shook her hand and wished her luck. François and I stood in the street, took a photo, and shook hands again saying our goodbyes.

The wonderful part about this visit was that language barrier didn’t matter. We were two strangers who met who got by just fine with the 30 percent of German that I understood. François and I had a wonderful time exploring the town and doing what he loves to do — explore history.

I’ll add that the best beer I ever had was with my own dad, Chuck Varcie. Having the 2 beers with François were definitely the second best beers I ever had.

Francois, thank you for an incredible journey, taking me around the town, having lunch with me, and telling me your stories.

Interestingly, I asked François how long he has lived in Herrlisheim Pres Colmar. I was born here, he said in German. 87 years ago.

Me and François at the end of our visit.