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T H E K I N G ' S B U S I N E S S
I Was a Prisoner of War ( Continued from Page 325)
much for men who were walking twenty miles a day. Eleven hundred started with us; only i90 remained when we were freed. Many fell by the wayside; some were taken to hospitals. The rest of us went on, not knowing what was happening at. home or how our forces were doing in the war. We longed for our loved ones and we prayed for God to deliver us. And He did! Release Our liberty came just as unexpectedly as had our capture. One day we were hopeless prisoners, the next day free men. It seemed too good to be true. When the Russian soldier came and told us that Germany had surrendered, we embraced him! The guards . were taken away. The Russians were kind to the com mon German soldiers, often just taking away their weap ons and sending them home, but if they bore any re semblance to a storm trooper, it was a different story. How did we react to freedom? Of course, we were wild with joy! Some of us did thank God from our hearts. Others began to plan on taking up their worldly pleasures where they left off. But I had resolved in my heart that if ever God delivered me, I would be and do more for Him than ever before. I had always been the kind that needed to be “coaxed” to engage in active Christian service. But I was through with that grudging service. I wanted to serve Him more worthily than in the past. I had seen Him in the prisons and on the highways and in the barns. We tried to clean up and we did fill up! The Russians said, “Help yourselves to anything on these farms!” We needed no second invitation. The Germans offered no resistance. With a resigned shrug of the shoulder, and the typical “ist kaput!” they watched us devour whatever we could find. Some of the boys jumped into the chicken pens, and as f a s t as they could catch and kill the chickens, we prepared them for the fire, fueled with the fine German wood-piles. Soon the air was full of the indescribable fragrance of roasting hen. Ducks, turkeys and young pigs met the same fate. We did practically nothing but eat for four or five days. We were just about to begin on the young beeves when transportation was secured and we were on our way to the coast, and home. From the day I sailed, September 11, to the day I landed and called her from Boston, June 26, I had not received a single word from my wife. She had been notified that I was missing in action but she did not believe that I was dead., With my dear parents, she prayed without ceasing for me. Later on, through a short-wave broadcast, she learned that I was a prisoner. She was going through other fires, too. My little son was so desperately ill of osteomyelitis that ninety-five shots of penicillin were required before he began to mend. God was merciful to me in keeping this knowledge from me. I cannot say enough in praise of my faithful wife and parents, my pastor and my church, for to their prayers, under God, I owe my life. Mine is not a spectacular story. It is true that all prisoners of Germany were ordered killed by Hitler, but the German army refused to carry out his orders. I did hot receive a single wound—not even a scratch from a C ration can! But nevertheless I feel that the experience was a miracle of His grace. I know that He permitted it to draw me closer to Him and to make a better man and Christian out of me. Now I know what He can do for a fellow in an emergency; I know He can give wisdom when one is at his wits’ end. I know that He can keep one from fear in the face of death. Never again shall I be afraid to commit my loved ones to Him. He saw them through and He saw me through. L was a prisoner of war, but God... to His Name be all. glory!
it did then. My heart is full of thanksgiving to God for looking after us. We had meat---it was nearly always raw; fox meat isn’t so bad! There was sauerkraut; hot soup; boiled potatoes; soluble coffee from the Red Cross. It was all luxury food to us! There were 8000 prisoners in this area, 1600 in the camp itself and others out on work detail. Under the Geneva convention, all privates must work. We made it hard for our captors by running from barracks to bar racks, bribing the guards, and generally disappearing when the officers came for us. We found hiding under the mattresses worked pretty well, until they developed the unpleasant habit of poking through them with their bayonets! Our hearts were not in the work of repairing railroads which our own Army had destroyed. I had a time with my clothing. When we first arrived, we were issued a combination of German, Serbian and Russian garments. I was a big fellow even after my en forced reducing diet and for days I went about in a suit of underwear over which was becomingly draped an old G.I. blanket. Later I obtained a pair of wood fiber trousers but they are poor protection against cold. The Red Cross finally got to us with uniforms and blankets. We had much for which to thank God. But again I noted that when we prospered outwardly, there was no desperate longing for God. An indifference toward prayer developed. Although this Was a privates’ camp, and chaplains, who are commissioned officers, were not assigned to it, we had some fine men with some knowledge and experience of spiritual matters to serve us and we had regular religious services. But there were not the results we had observed in Limburg. We Take to the Highways On January 29 we were moved from Hammerstein in a blinding blizzard. We issued ourselves a month’s Red Cross rations each and started off across the fields under guard. After we had walked eighteen miles, we had not much food left. Weariness forced us to let go of many precious items. Some dropped their food and carried their cigarettes. I thanked God many a time that by His grace I had not acquired the habit of smoking. For one thing, I fared better than many of my comrades .because I traded ciga-' rettes for food and was better sustained. It was a de grading sight even for men who had smoked for years to see to what lengths men would go to secure something to smoke, using even refuse when tobacco could not be obtained! Many a man resolved to quit a habit that brought one into such a shameful bondage. The German Hay Barns Now began the episode of the hay barns. For three months we were wanderers from farm to farm, always sleeping in hay barns at night. Always hungry, never clean, weary and broken, we tramped over the fields with our captors. They carried their supplies on wagons and sometimes we too were able to rig up an old wheel barrow, or a sled, if the snow was deep. My haberdashery at this period was interesting. For two months I wore day and night a suit of summer under- wear, two suits of long woolens, two pairs of O.D. trousers, a sleeveless sweater and a sweater with sleeves, an O.D. blouse and a French overcoat. I was never alone, either; the little creatures that resided in these clothes with me were extremely friendly. The Red Cross could not keep up with us. Whenever a prison lav between our barns, we stopped there and got Red Cross supplies. We “borrowed” potatoes from our farmer hosts; occasionally one of their chickens met a mysterious death. But all that we could collect was not
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