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When Rev. Murry Hanson sent in the TAPS notice
for his father Palmer Hanson, He included this POW story. I thought
it fitting that this be the first in the series Behind the Wire.
Any and all POW experiences are welcome for this new series.
The time is Christmas 1944; the setting is Stalag
Luft IV.
Christmas meant as much to the Germans as it did
to us. They agreed to let us do a show and have a late lock-up if we
agreed not to try to escape.
The hall was jammed with men standing everywhere.
The show was good, as prison camp shows go, but in a way it was kind
of flat. There were no carols, no Santa Claus, nothing to really
bring home Christmas.
The curtain came down. The German guards who
spoke English got up from their seats, signifying we were to return
to our quarters.
Suddenly an authoritative voice thundered, "We
will now sing God Bless America!" The men, who had been
slowly filing out, turned. There on the stage, as big and proud as a
man can be, was an American prisoner. "Everybody sing," he shouted.
And we did…every one of us. The singing wasn’t
especially musical, but it was real loud, clear, compelling, and
fervent. Never have I heard a song with greater enthusiasm or deeper
understanding, especially the chorus, where we pleaded with God to
"…bless the land we love, to stand beside her, to guide her, to
bless our home sweet home."
It was more than a song. It was a prayer from the
hearts of men. It was an unveiling of men’s souls, a cry for one’s
country and loved ones. It was a cry of caged men who were trying to
overcome the barriers of captivity. It was beautiful, more so
because it was impromptu. War-hardened men opened their hearts
unashamedly, while tears streamed down their cheeks. Not one was
ashamed of his display of emotion.
The effect on the German guards was strange. They
stood practically spellbound. They didn’t know what to make of it.
They had no idea how to cope. They knew the singing should be
stopped, but they didn’t know how to do it. So they waited until the
singing stopped, almost as abruptly as it started.
It was a quiet group that filed out into the
softly falling snow. No one hurried, no one shoved, no one spoke,
not even the guards. Every one of us was in our own private world –
a place that shut out the realism of Hitler’s prison camp.
The spirit of Christmas had finally penetrated
our dismal surroundings, bringing a spark of brightness and
contentment to our hearts. For a moment we forgot our weariness, our
hatred, our fears, and we were comforted.
God Bless America
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