Standing Still--Moving Forward

 We were no longer in the living room, that night.  Instead, I was walking with my husband through one of the most frightening moments of his life. He was only a boy of 18 when he was drafted to fight in World War Two.

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget those horror filled days and nights following my capture during the Battle of the Bulge.  But I wasn’t the only prisoner taken in the days ahead.  We were crammed into railroad boxcars so tightly we could hardly breathe.

"As the train began to move, my brain sped backwards to the battle,” he said.

His voice softened.  “Will I ever forget the high pitched whine of bombs and the flash of enemy fire? There we knelt, the two of us; my buddy and me huddled in a foxhole.  In a way the darkness shielded us, at least it did until my buddy suddenly leaped to his feet.

‘Get down.’ I shouted as I grabbed his leg and pulled him down beside me on the ground.

“’But I have to see,’ he cried. ‘I have to.’”

“’No! You’ll get us both killed. Don’t you understand? They told us to stay down and not fire unless we knew for sure what we were aiming at.’”

“But my foxhole buddy wasn’t listening. Even as I spoke he leaned forward and craned his neck. As he peered into the darkness he was suddenly lit by a flash of light. I tried to yank him back onto the ground for safety but an exploding missile overshadowed my efforts. 

An explosion whizzed past my ears. I wanted to vomit but I don’t know if I did or not. I only knew that my buddy’s head had been blown from his body and I was alone. But I wasn’t alone. My rifle was ripped from my hands and I was being dragged out; a prisoner of war, drenched in my buddy’s blood.”

“And after that?” I whispered.

“The railroad cars. I think I must have been one of the first to be loaded on. In a way it saved my life because I could put my nose in a crack on the side and breathe. But a lot of the men in the middle died standing up. They must have suffocated because there was no room. At times we stood on top of dead men and there was nothing we could do about it.”

He shuddered. “The smells were horrid. We all had dysentery so bad, it ran down our legs and there was nothing we could do to stop it. And still the wheels rolled. When other prisoners died and stood with us shoulder to shoulder we could only stand still and let it happen. My lips and mouth got so dry I couldn’t even spit. I thought I was going to die and I almost wished I had. But I didn’t and now I’m glad. I wasn’t ready to meet my Maker and I knew it.”

Then my husband’s eyes focused back into the present where we sat on the sofa together.  A tiny smile curled the corner of his mouth.

I nodded. “Do you remember how you kept asking me what a Christian was? I was a bit of a baby Christian myself back then and I had a hard time finding words to describe what it meant to be a child of God.”

“You didn’t do so bad.” He reached out an arm and drew me close. “Somehow your words came through to me that a Christian is someone who loves Jesus. If I had died in the war—and there were times when I really did wish I was dead—I wouldn’t have found Jesus, or you. But God . . .

But God. He goes before us and makes the crooked places straight. He calls us by Name and we run to Him and He will be with us forever and ever. Amen.

Midnight Snacks in a Septic Drain Field

         Bud stood at the counter smiling at me as I flipped the luscious hamburgers simmering in my favorite cast iron skillet. “There’s nothing like hamburgers to get the taste buds rolling.” He licked his lips. “Did I ever tell you about the time I stole a coffee can full of ground hamburger from the Germans and hid it inside a drain pipe? Actually it was a sewer pipe.”

            Uncertainty washed up inside me. “I—I think so . . .”

            “It happened the time me and some of my buddies walked past the shed where food was prepared. It was quiet. I don’t know why, but no one was there—not one guard, not even another  prisoner, only an oversized coffee can covered by a ragged towel set near the door.

            “Coffee, I could almost taste it on my tongue and my mouth started to water. I took a deep breath. My buddies looked at me with questions in their eyes and I knew what they were thinking. Oh, for a swallow of real coffee, not chicory, or whatever was they were serving; a taste of the real thing was worth solitary confinement, or whatever they might cook up.

            “I took a deep breath and held it. Fresh meat, I could smell it. Was it coming from the coffee can? Could it possibly be the meat we so craved?” My stomach growled and I bent forward hoping no one had heard.

            I slid the turner underneath a patty, flipped it and smiled at him. “And then?”

            “My appetite took over my brain. I grabbed the can and towel even as I heard a yell from a fellow prisoner. ‘They’re coming. Drop it! Get out now!

            "I took a quick look into the oven to check on the scallop potatoes bubbling out goodness and delicious smells and smiled at him. “But instead of dropping it you shoved both can and towel underneath your shirt and took off running like a deer.'"

            “Yep, I did. And when I did, prisoners and guards scattered every which way.  When I slowed to a stop, I remember standing alone gasping for breath in the middle of a clearing where I’d never seen before.

            “Just then I spotted a jutted muddy road. I took a deep breath and a rancid odor almost overwhelmed my senses. And then I saw it. A trickle of smelly water edged towards me. The clearing was obviously a drain field from an ancient septic tank.

            “At the same moment I heard a shout and the blast of a gun and knew the guards were getting closer. I was almost out of time. I scrambled forward and fell to my knees in front of the drain pipe.  Using my hands I pushed aside rocks and mud, then shoved the can inside the drain opening covering it with grass and reeds. 

            ‘”I stood and when I did I saw them comin’ straight towards me. I took a staggering step in their direction then shook my head as I pointed toward the foul mud. ‘Smells,’ I shouted as I grabbed my nose.  Dirty water. Slimy white things, nasty bugs, crawdads too. It’s crawlin’ with them.’

            “The horror of their gaze raked over me even as they slowly backed away. ‘We no touch,’ one shouted.  ‘Away, away!’”

            “’We bring water. Much water,’ another shouted.

            “And then I knew. My can of food was safe and so was I. It even sounded like I might get some soap and water. Maybe even a fresh set of clothes.”

            “But you didn’t get them did you?”  I covered the burgers with a lid and adjusted the heat beneath the bubbling corn down a notch.

           

            “No. The soap and water, yes. But I suspect they burned my clothes.  Sadly the clothes they gave me as replacements weren’t quite so warm as our old ones were.

            “But I still had the meat hidden in the drain pipe. Several of us banded together and we’d slip out to the clearing under cover of darkness. We did the best we could to make our find stretch by gathering greens during the day and slipping them into our pockets. Once we were in the clearing we made a tiny fire near the drain pipe where we cooked pieces of hamburger mixed with the greens in a helmet. At other times we fried them into delicious patties. Even the grease tasted wonderful.

            “We were careful to take turns using our helmets as a cooking bowl though. We didn’t want the guards to notice just one helmet getting slowly darker and darker from much use. I must say the meat from the can added a special touch to our repasts.”

            “Sort of like the Swiss family Robinson,” I mused. “They ate almost everything in sight.  Except they thrived and you didn’t.”  

            “But I survived,” he said, and the light went out of his eyes.

            I swallowed hard, and then changed the subject. “Dinner’s ready. Could you please call the kids while I get it on the table?”

            He didn’t answer. Did he even hear me?

            My stomach wrapped into a knot.

            I tried again. “Beth, Dow, Clytie and Mark. Could you tell them dinner’s ready? They’re out back creating roads in the dirt. When I went out earlier Dow was digging a tunnel while Mark stacked a pile of twigs into a miniature mountain. Clytie had a knife and spoon from the kitchen to create roads while Beth picked, then planted Johnny-Jump-Ups and fern fronds all along the sides of the road.”

            “Funny you’d say that. We ate them you know, tender fern fronds, yellow violets, that’s what we called your Johnny-Jump-Ups.”  He reached out his hand to me. “Let’s go get the kids together. I want to see what they’ve created with my own eyes. It might even help me put down a few of those memories that keep springing up from the past.”

            We smiled at each other as we went outside hand in hand, each step a thought, each thought a prayer. 

            Lord, give us wisdom and help us to help one another.  Then words from Proverbs 2:6-7 whispered into my heart. The Lord gives wisdom . . . He lays up sound wisdom for the righteous; he is a shield to those who walk uprightly.