Touching Christmas story...

I heard about this WW2 story growing up and thought it'd be wonderful to share.
I was lucky enough to have seen this house in the Hurtgen forest recently on my travels.

Sean



Truce in the Forest

It was Christmas Eve,
and the last, desperate German offensive of
World War II raged around our tiny cabin.
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door...

By Fritz Vincken


When we heard the knock on our door that Christmas Eve in 1944, neither Mother nor I had the slightest inkling of the quiet miracle that lay in store for us.

I was 12 then, and we were living in a small cottage in the Hürtgen Forest, near the German-Belgian border. Father had stayed at the cottage on hunting weekends before the war; when Allied bombers partly destroyed our hometown of Aachen, he sent us to live there. He had been ordered into the civil-defense fire guard in the border town of Monschau, four miles away.

"You'll be safe in the woods," he had told me. "Take care of Mother. Now you're the man of the family."

But, nine days before Christmas, Field Marshal von Rundstedt had launched the last, desperate German offensive of the war, and now, as I went to the door, the Battle of the Bulge was raging all around us. We heard the incessant booming of field guns; planes soared continuously overhead; at night, searchlights stabbed through the darkness. Thousands of Allied and German soldiers were fighting and dying nearby.

When that first knock came, Mother quickly blew out the candles; then, as I went to answer it, she stepped ahead of me and pushed open the door. Outside, like phantoms against the snowclad trees, stood two steel-helmeted men. One of them spoke to Mother in a language we did not understand, pointing to a third man lying in the snow. She realized before I did that these were American soldiers. Enemies!

Mother stood silent, motionless, her hand on my shoulder. They were armed and could have forced their entrance, yet they stood there and asked with their eyes. And the wounded man seemed more dead than alive. "Kommt rein," Mother said finally. "Come in." The soldiers carried their comrade inside and stretched him out on my bed.

None of them understood German. Mother tried French, and one of the soldiers could converse in that language. As Mother went to look after the wounded man, she said to me, "The fingers of those two are numb. Take off their jackets and boots, and bring in a bucket of snow." Soon I was rubbing their blue feet with snow.

We learned that the stocky, dark- haired fellow was Jim; his friend, tall and slender, was Robin. Harry, the wounded one, was now sleeping on my bed, his face as white as the snow outside. They'd lost their battalion and had wandered in the forest for three days, looking for the Americans, hiding from the Germans. They hadn't shaved, but still, without their heavy coats, they looked merely like big boys. And that was the way Mother began to treat them.

Now Mother said to me, "Go get Hermann. And bring six potatoes."
This was a serious departure from our pre-Christmas plans. Hermann was the plump rooster(named after portly Hermann G ring, Hitler's No. 2, for whom Mother had little affection) that we had been fattening for weeks in the hope that Father would be home for Christmas. But, some hours before, when it was obvious that Father would not make it, Mother had decided that Hermann should live a few more days, in case Father could get home for New Year's. Now she had changed her mind again: Hermann would serve an immediate, pressing purpose.

While Jim and I helped with the cooking, Robin took care of Harry. He had a bullet through his upper leg, and had almost bled to death. Mother tore a bedsheet into long strips for bandages.

Soon, the tempting smell of roast chicken permeated our room. I was setting the table when once again there came a knock at the door.

Expecting to find more lost Americans, I opened the door without hesitation. There stood four soldiers, wearing uniforms quite familiar to me after five years of war. They were Wehrmacht¡ªGermans!
I was paralyzed with fear. Although still a child, I knew the harsh law: sheltering enemy soldiers constituted high treason. We could all be shot! Mother was frightened, too. Her face was white, but she stepped outside and said, quietly, "Fröhliche Weihnachten." The soldiers wished her a Merry Christmas, too.

"We have lost our regiment and would like to wait for daylight," explained the corporal. "Can we rest here?"
"Of course," Mother replied, with a calmness born of panic. "You can also have a fine, warm meal and eat till the pot is empty."
The Germans smiled as they sniffed the aroma through the half-open door. "But," Mother added firmly, "we have three other guests, whom you may not consider friends." Now her voice was suddenly sterner than I'd ever heard it before. "This is Christmas Eve, and there will be no shooting here."

"Who's inside?" the corporal demanded. "Amerikaner?"
Mother looked at each frost-chilled face. "Listen," she said slowly. "You could be my sons, and so could those in there. A boy with a gunshot wound, fighting for his life. His two friends¡ªlost like you and just as hungry and exhausted as you are. This one night," she turned to the corporal and raised her voice a little, "this Christmas night, let us forget about killing."
The corporal stared at her. There were two or three endless seconds of silence. Then Mother put an end to indecision. "Enough talking!" she ordered and clapped her hands sharply. "Please put your weapons here on the woodpile¡ªand hurry up before the others eat the dinner!"
Dazedly, the four soldiers placed their arms on the pile of firewood just inside the door: three carbines, a light machine gun and two bazookas. Meanwhile, Mother was speaking French rapidly to Jim. He said something in English, and to my amazement I saw the American boys, too, turn their weapons over to Mother.

Now, as Germans and Americans tensely rubbed elbows in the small room, Mother was really on her mettle. Never losing her smile, she tried to find a seat for everyone. We had only three chairs, but Mother's bed was big, and on it she placed two of the newcomers side by side with Jim and Robin.
Despite the strained atmosphere, Mother went right on preparing dinner. But Hermann wasn't going to grow any bigger, and now there were four more mouths to feed. "Quick," she whispered to me, "get more potatoes and some oats. These boys are hungry, and a starving man is an angry one."

While foraging in the storage room, I heard Harry moan. When I returned, one of the Germans had put on his glasses to inspect the American's wound. "Do you belong to the medical corps?" Mother asked him. "No," he answered. "But I studied medicine at Heidelberg until a few months ago." Thanks to the cold, he told the Americans in what sounded like fairly good English, Harry's wound hadn't become infected. "He is suffering from a severe loss of blood," he explained to Mother. "What he needs is rest and nourishment."

Relaxation was now beginning to replace suspicion. Even to me, all the soldiers looked very young as we sat there together. Heinz and Willi, both from Cologne, were 16. The German corporal, at 23, was the oldest of them all. From his food bag he drew out a bottle of red wine, and Heinz managed to find a loaf of rye bread. Mother cut that in small pieces to be served with the dinner; half the wine, however, she put away¡ª"for the wounded boy."

Then Mother said grace. I noticed that there were tears in her eyes as she said the old, familiar words, "Komm, Herr Jesus. Be our guest." And as I looked around the table, I saw tears, too, in the eyes of the battle-weary soldiers, boys again, some from America, some from Germany, all far from home.

Just before midnight, Mother went to the doorstep and asked us to join her to look up at the Star of Bethlehem. We all stood beside her except Harry, who was sleeping. For all of us during that moment of silence, looking at the brightest star in the heavens, the war was a distant, almost-forgotten thing.

Our private armistice continued next morning. Harry woke in the early hours, and swallowed some broth that Mother fed him. With the dawn, it was apparent that he was becoming stronger. Mother now made him an invigorating drink from our one egg, the rest of the corporal's wine and some sugar. Everyone else had oatmeal. Afterward, two poles and Mother's best tablecloth were fashioned into a stretcher for Harry.
The corporal then advised the Americans how to find their way back to their lines. Looking over Jim's map, the corporal pointed out a stream. "Continue along this creek," he said, "and you will find the 1st Army rebuilding its forces on its upper course." The medical student relayed the information in English.

"Why don't we head for Monschau?" Jim had the student ask. "Nein!" the corporal exclaimed. "We've retaken Monschau."
Now Mother gave them all back their weapons. "Be careful, boys," she said. "I want you to get home someday where you belong. God bless you all!" The German and American soldiers shook hands, and we watched them disappear in opposite directions.

When I returned inside, Mother had brought out the old family Bible. I glanced over her shoulder. The book was open to the Christmas story, the Birth in the Manger and how the Wise Men came from afar bearing their gifts. Her finger was tracing the last line from Matthew 2:12: "...they departed into their own country another way."

Another update from my lazy hands

Well thought it time for another post. Not a huge amount going on though.
I enjoyed the rest of my stay with Kasper and family in Dublin. Flight over to Edinburgh was standard and for a nice change, no passport control. Key is getting there before breakfast or after dinner. Haha! Stupid border patrol. Anyway got to see a good friend "Ryan" in Edinburgh while I waited for a friend who had a flat free to sleep in. Though, I ended up getting a fever and haven't done much. Got to Glasgow and saw 2 good friends once I recovered somewhat, then I got back to Edinburgh to see Ryan again, then caught my bus to London....

EXCEPT! I didn't get the bus... A girl came up with a sob story and I was thinking she WANTED money... instead she was willing to pay £120 British pounds, for a bus ticket which cost me £22.
I talked with her quickly after I confirmed her offer was heard correctly by me, by asking the fellow next to me.
I guess the bus was going to work better than a train to catch a flight out of the London area.

So I happily took the money and was on my merry way. I decided that although I could get more money if I could get a bus the next day, with the snow coming in I thought it wise to get a train. Wow! Those seats were nice. Cost of a ticket was £77, but well worth it and fast.

Got to London in good time and then stayed at my friend Amandas flat easy enough. Interestingly enough I met her on a flight from the US to Europe and saw her a few days before getting to London, in Dublin.
But still reeling from being sick and having a bad belly I just laided around again. Though lots of snow and cold was still about so not easy to get around. Shame I didn't see more friends, but had good company at the flat.

After 2 days I made my way to Oxford, which wasn't easy given the snow, but did get there. Was nice to see Philip again and we went out to eat at a good Indian place nearby.

Today we made our way to Cornwall, slowly, but surely and are here now till after Christmas. Will be nice to have Christmas with someone I know. Didn't like the idea of a souless hostel Christmas. So now I'll generally hang out with Philip till January 11th when I fly to Egypt. Have no idea how I can get around the UK with all this damned snow stoping things. So I prefer to be on the safe side of things.

Anyway, right now I'm just worn out and need yet another break! Geez I am lazy. I'm excited to be traveling still, but I can't wait to get home too. But thats 2 months away and Egypt and Thailand inbetween, so more adventures still!

Bout time for another update...

Well, been in Dublin for several days now. So nice to be here even with all the sleet. But, I should go ahead and give a recap of everything.

Anyway, right before leaving warm Istanbul I went around town with a girl to find her an ATM and a new piece of luggage. Thought that'd be it and boring. But as we went to the next set of ATMs since the first was broken, I looked to the ground to see an ATM card laying right there.

Huh, well lets see who dropped this.... Uh, wait, Hmm, I know that name, its the guy from the hostel, the ONLY person who's full name I knew in almost all of Istanbul!

So I went back to the hostel to find him not there. So went to get the luggage with the girl who was a MASTER at Haggling. Could really act mean on the spot and be as nice as could be though.. Course once she found her luggage and gave HER money to the guy... he handed it back to ME... Assuming I guess was a boyfriend or husband. Welcome to the 1950's and earlier were it is just assumed that it's the MANS money! Haha!

Anyhow.... Still Zach the hostel guy hadn't shown up so I went to bed. Latter that night, found out it was like 1:30 or 2:30, I see him walking out. Sounding somewhat like a complete drunk, I said "Heyy Man, missing something?" He responding sharply as "Yes, don't remind me!" I responded "Its the bank card right?".. "Yeah Sean" "Oh well in that case Zach its on your bed".

"Wait what?!". "Yes, its on your bed", then pointing above my head to his bunk.

He then started giving me grand praise of finding it then I told quickly as how I found it.

Lucky bastard that Zach. Like winning the lottery. The chances that I was even going out that night and going past the ATM was as slim as slim can be.

So thought I'd mention that little story.

Anyway got up at the butt crack of dawn to get the airport shuttle. WHICH got there on time AND didn't charge me extra! Such a grand change of pace from the usual Turkish BS.

So got in line went through the usual security stuff and the flight to Heathrow wasn't bad. Talked to some Americans and they gave me 35 Egyptian pounds when they found out I was going there. So good deal for me!

Anyway got to Heathrow and ONCE AGAIN, I was deemed a person who needed to be checked and sat down like a child. So got the grumpy security guy.... who after checking my documents and trip plans came back far nicer, after 30 min. Almost seemed like it fully clicked that he knew I was just traveling and got a bit of bad luck with UK border patrol. So I went off on my merry way to find.. OH FUCK!

My flight was canceled because of snow.... So I ran to the desk and said my flight was canceled, what can they do? So they booked me on a flight closing gates at !!!!! 13:00 hours??!! FIFTEEN MINUTES! And it's HOW FAR! SHIIIIITT!

So I ran for the next 10 mins as fast as my legs could take me with that stupid pack on me. I was out of breath and could barely move and BEHOLD!!! I am.... say wait... why is everyone still in line.... God damnit... As I collapsed on a chair an Irishman said "Oh, you didn't have to run here, could have waited another 10 minutes and been fine." Great. Well least I'm here and after half an hour we were ready to go to Dublin. Wow and I'd still be an hour earlier. What great luck...

Over the coast of Wales and the weather wasn't looking to bad... "This is your captian, err it seems that Dublin airport is closed for at LEAST 4 hours... So we are flying to Shannon. Sorry about that folks". A great moan started up in the plane as if by command and a great chattering went about the plane as well. The usual after such, "wonderful" news...

So we landed after half an hour... yes it's small enough island that it takes 30 minutes to reach the west cost from the east coast. So landed and found we were going to be bused to Dublin. 4 hour drive and with waiting for them, it'd take 6 hours in total. So after the fine long bus ride being next to a fat Russian to my right and behind me some sort of drug addict, who I was gladly not RIGHT next to, that honour went to the other normal guy.

So the bus ride was long but I got to Dublin. Got lucky and found a bus to the city center and nicely was able to quickly borrow a mobile from an American living in Dublin.

Just delayed by several hours, but I did end up getting to the house here, just like 7 hours late....

Anywho... I have just been hanging around Dublin here. Weather has been okay, or kinda bad. I think I'll try to do as much as I can while here, without going broke.

So again, blog will be a bit boring till I get to Egypt, then the blog will be overloaded again for weeks!