Stories become memorable not for the events themselves but for the compelling narratives surrounding them. Chris Wolkenstein was just 17 years old when he was forced to flee his homeland of Austria. What he managed to make of his life is extraordinary and exemplary of the power of the human spirit. Thanks to a collection of letters1 (1941-42; 1945–52), we are able to peer into the formative years of his life.
Dr. Christoph Franz Wolkenstein (1922–2011) was an Austrian-born Canadian physician. He survived wartime internment before turning to a career in medicine. He was a direct descendant of poet-composer Count Oswald von Wolkenstein of Tyrol (c. 1376-1445).
On March 12, 1938, Austria was annexed by Germany, reluctantly relinquishing its independence in fear of the looming threat of Hitler’s military forces. As a result, Kalksburg College was forced to close and repurposed to military use. This directly affected the Wolkensteins and Chris in particular who had been enrolled in the college. Seeing the growing aggression of the Nazi Party, Graf Fortunat and his five sons Christoph, Oswald, Wolfgang, Ulrich, and Leonhard fled their native Austria for England. It was a decision faced with criticism from friends and relatives, and a far cry from the noble Wolkenstein name whose prestige and privilege were eroded after the First World War. In hindsight, this decision saved him and his sons.
In September of that year, the Munich Agreement was signed by Britain, France, Germany, and Italy in an effort to deescalate growing tensions and avoid another world war. In September 1939, Nazi Germany invaded Poland, breaching the agreement, and triggering a full scale war. While initially tolerant of Hitler’s territorial violations, England had to honour the agreement and officially declared war against Nazi Germany.

In May 1940, newly appointed Prime Minister Winston Churchill issued the internment of German and Austrian refugees in England from the ages of 16 to 60. Among those interned were Chris and Oswald, ages 17 and 16 respectively. In June, they boarded the HMT Dunera passenger ship, and were transported to Australia where they inevitably spent years away from Papa and their brothers who remained in England.
Chris and Oswald were interned for 20 months in Australia before being granted emancipation on January 12, 1942 by order of Archbishop Daniel Mannix on the promise that they complete their education. The brothers dutifully packed their belongings and took a train to Melbourne. In his diaries, Chris noted this as the “greatest day of his life.”2 With his freedom marked the transition from childhood to adulthood. Rather than viewing this newfound freedom simply as an opportunity for independence, Chris understood it as a responsibility to serve others and reclaim the family name. And so, on January 15, he entered Newmann College, at the University of Melbourne. He would go on to graduate in 1947 with a degree in Medicine and Surgery, fulfilling the promise he made when he first received the grace of freedom, and becoming the first Doctor of the Wolkenstein family.
It is incredible to think that through a series of decisions made by forces outside of their control the Wolkensteins found their family fractured. Over the intervening years the family would experience hardships from the war and its aftermath, an economic downturn and job instability, the liberation of their native Austria, and all other personal and professional failures and successes. And only by their own efforts did they maintain familial bonds. Through letters, they would endure until their fateful reunion in 1950, approximately a decade after the tragic separation.
The letters depict Chris as an encouraging and faithful son and brother. During Oswald’s continued academic struggles, it was Chris who supported him in moments of uncertainty. This was later repaid when Chris similarly reached a lowpoint after graduating and suffered a nervous breakdown. The mental toll it took to finish his degree left Chris burnt out. And it was Oswald who attended to his older brother and relayed messages to Papa.

Upon receiving his degree in Medicine, a momentous achievement, Papa sent Chris a letter of congratulations, attesting to his resolve honed and tested by the sufferings they had to endure in preparation for the triumphs. Here, we get a glimpse of Papa’s paternal pride. Furthermore, to pass down the family legacy, he sent the signet ring once belonging to his deceased brother and Chris’ namesake, Christoph Franz.
And over the years Chris would assume more responsibility over the family. He would go on to continue his education at the Royal College of Surgeons (1951–52) in England and at Columbia Presbyterian Medical Center (1952–54) in New York. It was here that he would meet his future wife, French-Canadian Marguerite “Margo” Ricard who worked as a nurse at the hospital he was appointed in. They would marry in Montreal at the end of his tenure in 1954, and soon after settle in Winnipeg. Chris worked at Winnipeg General Hospital (now Health Sciences Centre) for 33 years before retiring in 1988. He passed away on November 29, 2011 and was buried beside Margo at Assumption Roman Catholic Cemetery.
Part of GCS’ initiative is to examine individual lived experiences through major events such as the Second World War, the postwar period, migration and navigating life in Canada. Our aim is to present their stories in an effort to preserve their lives and legacies for future research.
–Justin Barachina, University of Winnipeg
- From diary entries donated by Anne Wolkenstein (daughter of Chris) to the Dunera News, issue no. 118, June 2024: https://www.duneraassociation.com/wp-content/uploads/bsk-pdf-manager/2024/07/Issue-118-Dunera-News-June-2024.pdf ↩︎
- Dunera News (June 2024); pg. 13 ↩︎






























