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September, 1945
Our beds were blankets spread on the floor. Snow was on the ground and it was bitter cold. We were never warm unless we were working. We had water for all purposes for an hour a day. Our work detail was cleaning up the rubble resulting from the United States air at tacks. Sometimes our own bombers would strafe us. In the center of Limburg square was a large imitation bomb on which was the printed inscription: “This will never happen here!” It produced grim smiles from us. ^ Strangely enough, with outward conditions so dread ful, at Limburg prison there was a real seeking after God on the part of the men. Some fine Christian men were present. We held services in a tent. Each evening in the barracks we had prayers. Though in bad shape physically, the men were eager to study the Word of God. About twenty accepted Christ as Saviour. We had no regular chaplain but we helped each other with what little knowledge we had. I read my New Testament through twice; at home I was top “busy” to do it! Cer tainly man’s extremity is God’s opportunity. I saw that trouble .was the only thing that would bring some men to God. We were shut up to Him. We had nothing else. Some of us had a few possessions across the sea but now they were of no use to us; I was in a half-starving condition while oranges spoiled in my California groves. I learned that material things have only a relative value. God was close to me in that prison. Now I know from experience that “Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God.” Cross Country Trip Three weeks later, I was among seven hundred prisoners shipped across Germany to Hammerstein Prison, known as Stalag II-B. The trip is still a nightmare to me. Forty-seven men were assigned to one box car. Four days and four nights we were shut up without water and with out sanitation facilities. Daily we were given a quarter of a loaf of black bread and a piece of raw meat. All of us could not lie down at night without lying upon each other. Many became violently ill before we reached our destination. Hammerstein We were incarcerated at Hammerstein from November 20 to January 29. Thanks to the Red Cross, we had more food, better clothing. They kept us alive and going. The memory of the first good food I had—some raisins and prunes cooked together—still brings tears to my eyes as ( Continued on Page 330)
Our sergeant tried to get us through because we were bearing a wounded man but it did not work and he was obliged to give the order: “Throw down your rifles!” Had, we not hesitated because of our responsibility to our injured comrade, we might have broken in all di rections, and some might have escaped. But our rifles were over our shoulders and we were seven against over one hundred Germans. Nearby were three German pill boxes and nicely dug slit trenches from foxhole to foxhole. The Germans exhibited no malice. They fed us well and soon we were showing each other pictures of home and family. Some of them spoke broken English. They were very curious; their most common question was: “What would the Americans do to us if we were their prisoners?” We assured them that they would have the best food they ever ate! They countered by saying: “You are now the lucky ones. For you the war is over!” How does it feel to be a prisoner of war? Soldiers are not trained for capture. Nothing in my preparation had fitted me for this experience. I had considered wounds and death as every serviceman does, but on capture I had not reckoned. Naturally, the first reaction was of fear, especially so since we expected momentarily to be lined up and shot. Our legs were shaky; our hearts were beating pretty fast. At the same time there was a deep peace in my heart. I knew that since I had accepted the salvation which God had provided in His Son, my soul was secure, and I was ready to meet Him. But I thought of my wife and children and life was very sweet. The hours wore on and, to our surprise, we were still alive. At about three o’clock in the morning, the Germans began to assemble their gear. To us they said: “You are going with us but you will return!” To this day we do not know what they meant for we never did go back. We were forced to carry their heavy cases of machine gun ammunition in addition to our wounded man and our own supplies. A mile or so of travel, and we reached the farthest point our lines had made. We were most anxious about our troops. Later we learned that they came through all right. After five miles of laborious travel over trails covered by fallen trees, we were forced to leave our wounded comrade at a German aid station. After walking all day, we were picked up by a German command car and taken to Duren where we were placed in an old paper mill with a group of fifty other prisoners. Here we had black bread once a day and barley soup (with worms) twice a day. From this point we were transported to work on railroads which had been bombed by the American Air Forces. It was hard work and six men shared one loaf of black bread per day; there was no noon meal; at night there, was barley soup and occasionally a little “ersatz” coffee and some marmalade. Four days of this, and then we walked under guard to Bonn where we were shipped to our first long stop—Limburg prison, Stalag No. XII-A. Limburg My mind recoils at the memory of conditions at Lim burg. I think of the beet soup; it is incredible that man could concoct anything so vile-smelling and so vile-tast- ing. There were bits of potato in it which I strained out and ate. My brothers-in-arms said: “What are you going to eat? You will starve.” I would answer, “I’m not hungry enough yet to eat that; I may come to it.” But I never did. The sour bread was nearly as bad. We were pretty low when the Red Cross “captive parcels” finally reached us. Without the cans of Spam, milk, tuna and other sup plies they sent, we would have died of starvation. We feel greatly indebted to them. I went “down” to two hundred pounds, which may not seem a loss to some people but it was sixty pounds of me!
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