Carol: O Little town of Bethlehem Hymn #208
Story: I was Grateful Just to be Alive
I was Grateful Just to be Alive
Royal R.Meservy
It was the Sunday before Christmas, and our family was
discussing memorable Christmases. After some discussions among the children, my
eleven-year-old son Greg asked, "Dad, which Christmas do you remember
best? Will you tell us about it?"
That was a big order, but after a few minutes' hesitation, I
proceeded to tell them this experience:
The Christmas that stands out most in my mind was that of
1944, during World War II. We had fought through the Battle of the Ardennes and
were then sent to the Siegfried Line to replace the Second Division. We had
been there a week when the German offensive known as the Belgian Bulge began.
We were right on the nose of that thrust and were commanded to hold at all
costs. For two and a half days we fought and held. But finally, on December 19,
1944, we were forced to surrender.
After we were searched, we stood out in a barnyard all
night. The next morning we began a march of thirty-eight miles. There was no
food, except part of a raw sugar beet that I dashed into a field to get as we
marched along.
The following morning, after sleeping on the cold, damp
ground, we moved slowly forward. We arrived at a big building about noon and
were given two packages of German emergency ration crackers and a ride to the
Geroldstein, Germany, railway station, where we slept on the hard cement. On
December 21, we were loaded aboard a train of boxcars, with sixty-five men to
each car. The sliding doors on either side of the car were wired shut from the
outside. There was no food or water.
December 23, 1944, found us outside of Diez, still cramped
up in the boxcar, hungry and thirsty. It was on this memorable afternoon that I
learned the true meaning of Christmas.
Just before dark American bombers flew overhead, and bombs
fell so close that one boxcar door was ripped entirely off. As the bombing
continued, someone asked, "Has anybody got a Bible?" I reached into
my pocket and handed him my pocket edition of the New Testament. He turned to
the second chapter of Saint Luke and read:
"And there were in the same country shepherds abiding
in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.
"And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the
glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.
"And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I
bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.
"For unto you is born this day in the city of David a
Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.
"And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the
babe wrapped in swaddling clothes lying in a manger.
"And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of
the heavenly host praising God, and saying,
"Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good
will toward men." (Luke 2:8-14.)
I had heard that scripture read year after year, but never
before or since with the emotion and feeling with which it was read in that
boxcar.
Peace came over us. He handed the Bible back to me, and we
all sat quietly, each deep in his own thoughts.
The next day, after eighty-eight hours without water, we
were given water and later some food. Christmas of 1944 is the one I remember
best because I was grateful just to be alive.
Improvement Era. December 1970, p. 6. Dr. Royal R. Meservy,
a native of Wilford Fremont County, Idaho, has served two full-time missions
for the Church. He and his wife have seven children; the family resides in
Fullerton, California, where he is a counselor at Fullerton College.
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