The few dozen who died while incarcerated as POWs were buried at Ft. Douglas, Utah, the Chattanooga National Cemetery, and Fort Lyon, Colorado.
Its military had only brief experience with a limited POW population in the last world war, and was unprepared for basic logistical considerations such as food, clothing and housing requirements of the prisoners.
Upon arriving in America, the comfort of the Pullman cars that carried them to their prison camps amazed the Germans,[16]: 32, 70 as did the country's large size and undamaged prosperity.
They stayed in 700 camps;[17] government guidelines mandated placing the compounds away from urban, industrial areas for security purposes, in regions with mild climate to minimize construction costs, and at sites where POWs could alleviate anticipated farm labor shortages.
[11] Other than barbed wire and watchtowers, the camps resembled standard United States or German military training sites,[15][19][14]: 33 with prisoners segregated by service branch and rank.
As the United States sent millions of soldiers overseas, the resulting shortage of labor eventually meant that German POWs worked toward the Allied war effort by helping out in canneries, mills, farms, and other places deemed a minimal security risk.
While language differences and risk of escape or unreliable work were disadvantages, prisoner workers were available immediately on demand and in the exact numbers needed.
The workers could use the rest at the camp canteen,[24][23] where fellow prisoners sold snacks, reading and writing material, playing cards, and tobacco products.
[20] While most citizens living near camps accepted the prisoners' presence, the government received hundreds of letters each week protesting their good treatment.
[22]: 98–101 Given the wartime labor shortage however, especially in agriculture, many valued their contribution; as late as February 1945, politicians in rural states asked the government for 100,000 more prisoners to work on farms.
[23] The Germans woke their own men, marched them to and from meals, and prepared them for work;[29] their routine successfully recreated the feel of military discipline for prisoners.
[17] Alex Funke, who served as military chaplain to fellow PoWs at Camp Algona, wrote: "We all were positively impressed" by the U.S. and that "We all had been won over to friendly relations with" the U.S.[31] Indeed, unauthorized fraternization between American women and German prisoners was sometimes a problem.
[16]: 59, 208 Despite complaints to International Red Cross inspectors about the alleged inferiority of American white bread and coffee, prisoners recognized that they were treated better in the United States than anywhere else.
"[31] Prisoners were provided with writing materials, art supplies, woodworking utensils, and musical instruments,[32] and were allowed regular correspondence with family in Germany.
[22]: 113 As a highly effective tool of reeducation after American entry into World War II, the libraries of the POW camps very often included Berman-Fischer in Stockholm's paperback editions of great works of recent German literature that remained strictly banned under censorship in Nazi Germany.
Particularly in demand among POWs were Exilliteratur by anti-Nazi refugee writers such as Erich Maria Remarque's All Quiet on the Western Front, Thomas Mann's Zauberberg, and Franz Werfel's The Song of Bernadette.
In an article for inter-camp journal Der Ruf, German POW Curt Vinz opined, "Had we only had the opportunity to read these books before, our introduction to life, to war, and the expanse of politics would have been different.
[15] Relying on Germans to discipline themselves, while efficient, also permitted committed groups of Nazi prisoners to exist despite American attempts to identify and separate them.
[18] Members of the Afrika Korps, who had been captured early in the war,[11] during Germany's greatest military successes,[16]: 150–151 often led work stoppages, intimidated other prisoners, and held secret kangaroo court for those accused of disloyalty.
[16]: 158–159 Many devoted Nazis remained loyal to their political beliefs and expected a German victory until the Allies crossed the Rhine in March 1945; their faith amazed prisoners captured during and after the Battle of Normandy, who had more realistic views of the likely outcome of the war.
[24][15] The likelihood of an escapee returning to their forces overseas was very remote;[29] the wish to avoid boredom was the reason most often given by those who attempted to escape,[16]: 132, 152 often hoping to reach Argentina.
Named the Special Projects Division (SPD) and directed by a group of university professors, the program published der Ruf (The Call), a prison newspaper edited by sympathetic POWs, and distributed books banned in Nazi Germany.
Many in the OPMG opposed the program, in part because they believed that changing most adults' basic philosophies and values was impossible and, if successful, might cause them to choose Communism as an alternative.
The reading material they prepared was overly intellectual and did not appeal to most prisoners, and der Ruf was unpopular as it was essentially a literary journal with little current news.
Their nation's complete defeat in the war and subsequent division into two countries were likely much more influential than SPD reeducation in Germans' postwar rejection of Nazism.
Scholar Arnold Krammer noted that in his years of interviewing prisoners he never met one who admitted to being a Nazi, and most Germans had some knowledge of the camps; however, how much those captured in North Africa knew of the Eastern Front—where most atrocities occurred—is unclear.
"[18] Most Germans left the United States with positive feelings about the country where they were held,[20][18] familiarity with the English language, and often with several hundred dollars in earnings.
[18] Citing 80 fellow prisoners that he corresponded with after returning home, Funke reported that no reeducation had been necessary in the camps, because they had become "convinced democrats" due to their treatment.
[18] Georg Gärtner, who escaped from a POW camp in Deming, New Mexico, on September 21, 1945, to avoid being repatriated to Silesia, occupied by the Soviet Union, remained at large until 1985.