Frederick Taureck

Carly Price from the Monmouth County 4-H interviewed Frederick Taureck at the National Guard Militia Museum of New Jersey as part of the Center for U.S. War Veterans Oral Histories. 

Born in Hoboken, New Jersey, in 1923, he recalled both his upbringing and the dramatic turn his life took with the outbreak of World War II. Taureck was 18 years old and living at home when he heard about the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, a moment that prompted him to enlist in the U.S. Army.

He began his service at Fort Dix before moving on to San Diego, California. Training was grueling, particularly in Louisiana, where Northern recruits like himself endured hostility from Southern sergeants still steeped in old regional resentments about racial differences. Despite harsh treatment, Taureck formed friendships, though he later lost touch with those men. His specialty soon became machine gunnery, and training involved live practice such as firing from towers and hunting jackrabbits in the desert. Later, he was stationed at Camp Gruber, Oklahoma, as part of the Rainbow Division, and eventually prepared for deployment overseas.

Crossing the North Atlantic in winter was terrifying. Ships rattled as if they would split apart, but he and his division reached Marseille, France, safely. Taureck remembered an incident while guarding a French winery where he narrowly escaped being shot. A second brush with death came when German forces fired at him across a bridge, leaving a bullet hole in his chair. Such near-misses, he explained, were part of what seemed like never-ending danger.

As the war intensified, his unit endured extremely cold weather as if it was the middle of winter. General Eisenhower’s orders were clear: soldiers were not to sleep outside, but rather to occupy houses if necessary. Eventually, Taureck’s group manned a pillbox along the Rhine River. One morning, he spotted a German soldier crawling toward them and fired, but soon after, the Germans launched an assault, blew open the pillbox door, and captured him and his comrades.

Forced to march over 200 miles toward Stuttgart Germany, and later transported by overcrowded boxcar to northern Germany, Taureck was now a prisoner of war. Life in the camp was brutal, as the soldiers were packed into freezing barracks with no food and no heat until Spring. He endured constant hunger. Red Cross packages were split among ten men, never enough to satisfy. Despite the bleakness, Taureck encountered moments of humanity: a fellow prisoner who had lived in the U.S. but was conscripted while visiting Germany smuggled him food, and a young, wounded German soldier recovering at the camp taught him phrases in German, including the chilling lesson “no work, no eat.”

In 1945, liberation came when British forces encountered his group. Weak and emaciated, down to 91 pounds, Taureck was hospitalized in Brussels, where doctors told him he had only 30 days to live. Fortunately, he recovered over the course of a month. From there, Taureck was transferred to camps organizing returning troops, and eventually to a ship home, where meals were carefully restricted so prisoners’ fragile stomachs could readjust. Onboard was the actor Victor Mature, serving as a soldier like the rest. After a five-day voyage, Taureck landed in Boston, processed at Fort Dix, and finally discharged at Fort Monmouth. He returned home in the middle of the night to reunite with his mother and sisters. His mother, whose German-born husband had died when Taureck was a child, had never lost faith he would return alive. Three months later, after rehabilitation, he married, though lingering injuries required further surgery.

Though his surname marked his German heritage, he insisted this brought him no advantages in captivity. What mattered more were bonds of friendship, such as with Ed Pierce, a fellow prisoner with whom he spent nights fantasizing about hamburgers. After the war, Taureck introduced Pierce to the woman who would become his wife, though Pierce later died of leukemia.

Taureck reflected on his survival with a sense of shock as doctors once gave him only weeks to live, yet in 2003 he was approaching his 81st birthday. Still, the costs of war remained heavy as he suffered from diabetes, glaucoma, heart problems, strokes, and lifelong nightmares from post-traumatic stress. Night terrors caused him to thrash violently in his sleep, and Taureck relied on medication and psychiatric care. He became active in veteran organizations, serving as Commander of the Disabled Veterans of Freehold. Taureck joined the American Ex-POWs.

Throughout his life, Taureck carried material reminders: his Combat Infantry Badge, a Rainbow Division book, and a recipe for the coarse “black bread” made with sawdust that he ate as a prisoner. He shared these experiences in schools, at funerals, and at community events, so to ensure that younger generations understood the price of freedom. Taureck often emphasized how costly freedom was, something no soldier fully anticipates until faced with war’s realities.

Despite his hardships, Taureck carried himself with humor and perspective. He joked that his clearest memory of the war was enjoying life in San Diego during training, and he recounted with laughter that his name already appeared on a veterans’ monument in Millstone Township while he was still alive. Yet somber memories persisted: carrying a rifle into church in France, seeing a child fire at him, or remembering comrades who never returned.

The interview ended with him reflecting on survival, sacrifice, and service. He continued to honor fallen comrades by visiting cemeteries, speaking to students, and staying connected with surviving fellow soldiers. For Taureck, the legacy of World War II is both deeply personal and also communal: a reminder that freedom’s cost is measured not only in lives lost but also in the lifelong burdens carried by those who survived.

Among his service awards were the American Theater Ribbon, European-Middle Easter Ribbon, Good Conduct Medal, WWII Victory Medal, Bronze star, Combat Infantryman Badge, and the French Medal of Honor. 

Frederick Taureck passed away at home on August 13, 2009 at the age of 86.