Christmas Warmth in the Cold Heart of War
How Three American and Four German soldiers Spent a Memorable Christmas Eve Together During the Battle of the Bulge, in 1944
It was Christmas Eve, 1944. The German Army had launched a furious, all-out offensive against Allied and American units in Belgium nine days earlier and had succeeded in pushing the front line so far back that it appeared as a bulge on the map. Fierce fighting was everywhere across that forested and frozen terrain and soldiers on both sides could easily become lost in the noise and confusion of battle and stumble perilously around trying to find a way back to their lines.
That, in fact, is what happened to three young Americans who got cut off from their regiment and who wandered terrified through the Forest for three days and nights desperately trying to avoid capture. One of the men was severely wounded with a bullet through his thigh and unable to walk. In the dark of that third night, these three came to a small cabin in the woods and, knowing that the occupants would be German, knocked on the door anyway.
Fortunately, the one who opened the door was Mrs. Elisabeth Vincken, mother of a twelve-year old boy named Fritz. She saw the condition of these men and that one of them was lying in the snow. Feeling for their plight, she asked them speaking French to come inside and share their Christmas dinner. To her they seemed little more than boys not much older than her son. The men stretched their wounded comrade out on the boy’s bed and stacked their rifles in a shed against a pile of firewood. Mrs. Vincken tore a bed sheet into long strips to make bandages for the wounded soldier.
Soon, the aromas of roasting chicken filled the little cabin. Fritz was setting the table when there came another knock at the door.
The woman opened it and saw four German soldiers, looking as ragged as her American guests. She knew that the penalty for sheltering the enemy was death under German law and must have felt a surge of terror at that moment.
“We have lost our regiment,” one of them said, “and would like to wait for daylight. Can we rest here?”
“You are welcome to come in and share dinner with us,” she told them, “but there are three others inside and I must ask that you stack your weapons there in the shed as they also have done.
"Who's inside?" the corporal demanded. "Amerikaner?"
Mr. Vincken 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, lost 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. There will be no shooting here."
The corporal stared at her. There were two or three long seconds of silence. Then Mrs. Vincken put an end to indecision. "Enough talking!" she ordered and clapped her hands sharply. "Please put your weapons on the woodpile in the shed and hurry up before the others eat the dinner!"
Dazedly, the four soldiers placed their arms on the firewood: three carbines, a light machine gun and two bazookas.
Now, as German and American soldiers tensely shared space in the small room, Mrs. Vincken tried to find a seat for everyone. There were only three chairs, but one of the beds bed was big, and on it she placed four of the newcomers side by side.
One of the Germans had put on his glasses to inspect the American's wound. "Do you belong to the medical corps?" Mrs. Vincken 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, that his wound hadn't become infected. "He is suffering from a severe loss of blood. What he needs is rest and nourishment."
Relaxation was now beginning to replace suspicion. Two of the Germans, both from Cologne, were 16. The corporal, at 23, was the oldest. From his food bag he drew out a bottle of red wine, and another a loaf of rye bread. Mrs. Vincken cut that in small pieces to be served with the dinner; half the wine, however, she put away for the wounded boy.
Then, with tears welling in her eyes, she said grace. "Komm, Herr Jesus. Be our guest." There also were tears in the eyes of the battle-weary soldiers, boys again now, some from America, some from Germany, all far from home. After their dinner, everyone except the wounded American went outside to look up at the stars now visible after a lengthy overcast had cleared. Mrs. Vincken compared it to the wise men seeing the Star of Bethlehem. That night the German and American soldiers sldept under the same roof.
The private armistice continued next morning. The wounded American woke in the early hours, and swallowed some broth. With the dawn, it was apparent that he was becoming stronger. Everyone had oatmeal. Afterward, the german soldiwers fashioned two poles and a tablecloth into a stretcher.
The German corporal then advised the Americans how to find their way back to their lines. Looking over a map, he pointed out a stream. "Continue along this creek," he said, "and you will find the 1st Army rebuilding its forces on its upper course." This corporal then gave the map and a compass to the Americans.
"Why don't we head for Monschau?" one asked. "Nein!" the corporal exclaimed. "We've retaken Monschau." That one bit of information may have saved the lives of those American soldiers.
Then Mrs. Vincken gave them 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 then disappeared in opposite directions.
This story later appeared in print in The Reader’s Digest and afterwards was made into a TV movie entitled “Silent Night” with many liberties taken to embellish the actual event. However, it needs no embellishment and stands out as a truly rare, if not incredible, instance of peaceful coexistence between combatants in the midst of a brutal and vicious war.
The Soldier and the Boy Reunited
In 1995, a chaplain in a nursing home in Frederick, Maryland, had heard Fritz Vincken’s story on a broadcast and realized that a resident there had been one of the soldiers in this story. His name was Ralph Blank.
Fritz, who was living in Hawaii at the time, was informed about Blank and telephoned him in Maryland. Ralph was overjoyed to hear from him and on January 19, 1996, Fritz flew to meet Blank in the nursing home. Ralph still had the map and the compass that the German corporal had given him on that long ago day.
“Your mother saved my life,” Ralph told Fritz, who was happy that his mother’s courage had not been forgotten.