Just Young Boys

There was this big building where we used to have stage plays before the war. Now, it was used to house broken prisoners of war; the young Dutch boys. 18 to about 25, that were too weak to be of any use in any of the German camps. They would bring them on back to our town to get recuperated away from all the others. But as far as I could tell, there was no sort of recuperating going on in those prisons. The boys were just withering away in want of good food and a bath. I guess I just had a soft spot for these Dutch boys, same as the momma's needin' milk for their babies. Maybe they reminded me of my brothers. I would roller skate around the place searching for a way I might be of help. The guards assigned to the building were mostly just old soldiers, harmless as I saw them. The Germans knew these boys weren't going anywhere.

One day I struck up a conversation with one of em'. Just talking, nothing important at first. After a bit, the solider said he had a daughter back home, and that I reminded him an awful lot of her. At this I saw my chance.

"Sir,” I said. "Would it be alright for me to go inside and skate? There's a great big floor in there that makes for the best skating, especially on cold days like these."

The solider glanced around and then stepped aside, letting me slip in. This was the first of many trips to skate inside and talk with the prisoners. I often brought Willie along with me. We would hold hands and skate around and around, just offering smiles and words of encouragement to whoever was alert enough to want them. This worked for a time, but I knew we needed to do more. Willie and I discussed the problem at length and decided we had to get the boys out. They were in such desperate need of the assistance my mother could give em'.

"How are we gonna get them out of here?" Willie said. "The old guards are soft, but they won't release prisoners. We are going to have to sneak them out. Maybe the weakest ones first, and then we'll move on to--" but I cut him off.

"No. They would notice who was missing."

"Then what do you suggest? We just walk up and ask to take some home for a few hours?" Willie asked in frustrated sarcasm.

"That's exactly what I plan to do," I retorted right back.

"What?! If you ask and they say no we've lost all chance of getting them out!" Willie reminded as his hand swept around the room.

It took some explaining, but I convinced Willie this was the only way. The next day I went straight to the door where the guard who had let me was stationed. With all the innocence I could muster, I described to him what I wanted to do. If I could just take four or five boys home, and let them take showers, mend their clothes, and eat some food, I would bring them straight back in a few hours. The German thought for a moment and agreed that would be alright.

"But you remember girl, if these boys run off you, the death penalty will be there to greet you," he admonished.

But I knew they wouldn't escape. My life was at stake and I knew they wouldn't run. So about twice a week I was allowed to take four boys home with me. My mother would take great care of them. They were all very thankful and happy to get this opportunity. The boys said if the war was ever over with, they wanted us to come and visit. That we were welcome in their homes. We even took down their addresses. I did see one after the war, and he was always very thankful for things I did to help them.

The prisoners weren't the only ones my mother took care of. During the war, the people from our church really banded together. I guess we had to. I always felt like we were one big happy family. On Sunday's after the Sacrament service, we could all come to our home where mom was waiting to welcome them. She would fix big plates of sandwiches and hot chocolate. Once that was all gone, we would usually get a big sack of peanuts and other goodies on the table. Then we would all sing song together. So, so happy.

Mother also took in the LDS missionaries. Rough time to be a missionary I suppose. They had a difficult time speaking the language and often got real homesick. I remember, they were just young boys after all. But when they were at our home they forgot all about their problems. Those boys loved to play with all the children in the house. My mother was very happy with the missionaries and they were happy with her. Always called her mom, as I suppose she was their mom in Europe.

That's me on the far left