Preface: 

Shortly after the German surrender in 1945 I was one of the GIs quartered in the “Kaserne”, (Barracks) adjacent to a trash dump near Bamberg, Germany. One day I was assigned to help take a truckload of trash and garbage from our barracks and deposit in an adjacent dumpsite. At the dumpsite our truck was met by a band of ragged, cold and starving women and children who emerged from the rubble in which they dwelt and blocked our progress. We were forced to stop in order to avoid running over them. Although we couldn’t understand a word they said, it was evident that they wanted our trash and garbage for their own consumption and each wanted us to drop it over them so they could get their hands on it first. I can never forget having to empty the barrels of refuse on them and watching them fight over potato peels and scraps of wood. The most vivid image is of an old woman and a little boy having a tug of war over a stick. It was clearly needed for firewood. Others were fighting over garbage. If the world ever comes to an end, this is my image of how it will happen. Gerald D. Klee, MD

A CHRISTMAS SONG

Original story written in 1947; copy edited 12/19/08

( Gerald D'Arcy Klee )

Introduction

Strictly speaking, the following story is fiction, but it is based on my encounters with large numbers of desperate, starving people in Europe months after Germany’s 1945 surrender to Allied forces in World War II. Few were more tragic than those I saw in Bamberg, Germany, where this story takes place. In the following links I describe my observations of European post war conditions in more detail.

http://www.letreb.com/2Stories/how_my_childhood_came_to_an_end_.htm

http://www.letreb.com/Stories/A%20Klee%20Family%20Saga-Brooklyn%20to%20Paris.htm

  I wrote this story not long after being discharged from the US Army in 1946 and returning to pre-medical studies in college. I completed medical school in 1952 and was back in uniform during the Korean War-this time as a physician in the United States Public Health Service.                      Gerald D. Klee

A CHRISTMAS SONG

                                  by Gerald D’Arcy Klee

McGill University , 1947

Snow began to fall towards evening.  It came gently in large, downy flakes and quietly covered the land.  As darkness spread its domain over the white landscape a chill wind accompanied it.  The wind caught the falling flakes and whirled them about in a grotesque minuet.

It was Christmas Eve in Central Germany .  The noise of high revelry poured forth from the Kaserne* on the outskirts of the city of Bamberg .  American occupation troops were celebrating the holiday with the aid of a copious supply of Schnapps.*  The city in the near distance stood mute and solemn.  The falling snow, dimming its image, gave it an air of lugubrious grace.  In the other direction, beyond the Kaserne, spread a field.  Past this was a pine forest, which was off limits to civilians.  The field was the local dumping grounds.  Snow now covered the masses of rubble, transforming the normally harsh landscape into a scene of weird beauty.

                    ______________

*Kaserne; A German military barracks, occupied by American troops after World War II ended in 1945.

Adjacent to the pine forest, at the edge of the dump, there was a particularly large mound of rubble.  But it was not simply a mound, it was a man-made shelter.  Ashes, discarded jerry cans, and many other articles of assorted waste, including a purloined piece of canvas, had gone into its structure.

Within, an indeterminate number of people, possibly twenty, sat densely crowded on the ground about a small wood fire.  The flickering firelight exposed through a pall of smoke the narrow ashen walls and the low, sagging canvas roof, nearly in contact with the heads of the sitters.  The light played weirdly over the faces of the group, making the scraggly beards of the men faintly glisten.

  There were women and children and a few men, but age distinctions did not conceal what they had in common. Each frame was emaciated and clad in rags; each face drawn, the skin lined, red, and inflamed.  Desperation or apathy reigned in every pair of eyes.  These were the signs of near starvation and hopelessness.  The effect was to give to each individual, regardless of years, a demeanor as ancient as it was coarse.

Some attempted to doze; the rest sat, gnarled hands folded, staring intently, unblinkingly into the fire.  Intermittently a member would begin to cough fiercely yet feebly, his or her whole frame trembling violently.  The others sat unaware or unmoved by the cougher’s outburst.

Who were these people?  What were their origins?  They were the rubble of Europe ; the flotsam and jetsam of war. Many people like this had been slave laborers. Officially, they were known as Displaced Persons, (DPs). They had been unwittingly cast aside in the frantic struggle for the recovery of stability and justice immediately after the war.  They remained unaware of the tremendous movements in progress about them. All their consciousness was devoted to a ferocious struggle to preserve life.  Along with the non-living wastes they had found their way to the rubble heaps.  They sustained life on the bits of edible trash which were brought to the dump from the nearby US Army quarters, and by occasional other, equally precarious means.

They had no common origin.  Among them were Poles, Czechs and other central Europeans, including Germans. The necessity to unite or perish brought this heterogeneous group under the same roof. Their common language was a pidgin, composed of various European languages including a few words of English when necessary. There were no Jews since Jews in Germany and in occupied countries had fled Europe. Those that hadn’t escaped were exterminated by the millions or confined to brutal concentration camps where many failed to survive. Millions of non-Jews in occupied countries met similar fates.

There were, no doubt, reasons why these people had to remain where they did rather than returning to their homes as did others.  In many cases their homes no longer existed or were too far away.  Others may have been ostracized by their families or communities.

On this night the general air of apathy in the shelter became less pronounced with the passing of time.  A certain amount of tension and expectancy developed.  An old woman started crying.  This was an unusual phenomenon among them.  The only emotions normally manifested were fear and greed.  Several others looked hopefully towards the entrance.

A woman spoke.  “Christmas Eve, Christmas Eve, perhaps Christ will appear; God may come to us now.”

A man spoke.  “Do you think Karl will come back if he gets it?”  No one answered, but the tension grew.

There was no way of measuring the time that passed.  A noise was heard from outside.  The entrance flap was lifted and Karl staggered in under the weight of a large slab of beef.  The excitement was intense.  Greedy eyes devoured the meat.  Greedy hands reached forth, clutching at the meat. Several of the stronger men restored order with blows and threats.

He was greeted, “Ha, Karl, you are the one who is true to us.” A rusty knife was brought forth and the task of sectioning the meat promptly undertaken.

Karl finally had the opportunity to speak.  “They will never miss it, those Americans, they have plenty.  The sentry was asleep.  He didn't even know I was there.”

  “It’s a good thing he didn’t,” said another, “he might have shot you.”

  “What difference,” replied Karl, “I will get shot one day if I don’t starve first.”

Contrary to usual procedure the stronger members distributed the meat with some equity among the group. The small fire was inadequate to cook the meat properly, but it was cooked to some degree in small chunks held on sticks.

The children gulped down their meat with the dispatch that comes from extreme hunger and promptly threw the food back up.  They quickly learned to follow the example of their elders who ate slowly and carefully, their faces suffused with satisfaction.

Karl was seen attempting to conceal his share of meat in his shirt. “Why do you not eat, Karl?” he was asked.

“Ha,” someone responded, “Did you not see where Karl had been eating of the meat, raw, as he carried it back? He’s saving that piece for tomorrow.”

The group looked indulgently on Karl.  With satiation, the greed elicited by the sight of food gave way to softer emotions.  Here they were on Christmas Eve and eating the best food they had had in months or even years.  A wave of tender feelings seemed to come over the gathering.  Karl's unselfish act had aroused the best in them all.  They recovered their basic humanity, if only for a brief time.  Little acts of kindness were performed.  The sick were soothed.  Love and fellowship reawakened in their feeble frames. This temporary relief was enough to show that human love can survive the worst that may happen in life.

A woman began to sing and others joined in.  It was a common Christmas song, but their voices were filled with love and gratitude to the Lord for protecting them. Outside, the snow had ceased to fall.  The clouds had passed, revealing a vault of stars of unmitigated brilliance.  The white blanket of snow over the landscape gave an eerie splendor to the scene.  A gentle wind blew, catching the strains of the song as it emerged from the shelter.  These strains were borne aloft to fuse with the gentle sob of the trees above.  The song thence rose toward the stars, and the heavens joined in the chorus. 

“Sleep in heavenly peace.”

Epilogue: I visited Europe again in 1958 to attend a medical meeting and was amazed to see how quickly Germany had recovered. It is unlikely that everyone in this group survived for very long, but I’d like to believe that some of them lived long enough to help rebuild and enjoy the better and more democratic Europe that emerged.

  *The use of Schnapps by American troops in the barracks is fictional. Soldiers drank when on leave, but use of liquor on duty or in the barracks was a court martial offense with severe penalties. Although there might have been occasional violations at some Army posts, I never witnessed any.

This story can also be found on the Klee website at http://www.letreb.com/2Stories/a_christmas_song.htm