Oradour-sur-Glane

On June 10, 1944 a group of Nazi political soldiers (SS) entered and surrounded the small town of Oradour-sur-Glane. They told the mayor that they wanted all of the town's inhabitants to meet in the town center (a park) for an identity check. When the towns people arrived they told them they were going to search their homes for hidden arms and explosives. They moved the men into nearby barns while the women and children were led to the church. The details of what happened next are so disturbing that I won't tell them here. I will simply say that that the men were machine-gunned down and the church was bombed, then burned. The soldiers then burned the entire town before leaving. There is still no explanation why the soldiers carried out such a massacre. Some think it is because they suspected members of the resistance in the area. But this isn't the only town where this happened. Geoff visited another such town as a missionary. As a memorial the town was left exactly as it was the day of the massacre. The remains of the houses (some with a pot still on the hearth or tile that survived the destruction), the cars still parked in garages, the 1940 telephone wires and the tram that carried people from town to town...it is all there. It just so happened that the day we visited was June 10th.

Here is an old veteren of the war who was on his way to a memorial service held in the nearby church. When we asked where he was during the war he said with tears his eyes, "I was everywhere. I saw my friends die everywhere."

WWII has been a reality everywhere we have gone this past year. Buildings after buildings rebuilt after being destroyed (lacking any architectual interest whatsoever) next to some of the world's most beautiful homes and city buildings, bullet holes in the sides of buildings and churches, memorials in every French town naming the town's losses (very sad, long lists that often had many people with the same last names), and little dugouts built into the sides of rocks and mountains.

When we went to church for the first time in Nice an older woman cornered me and began talking. I tried to explain that I didn't speak English but that didn't stop her. She talked for about 5 long minutes before I pulled Geoff over and she began her long story over again. Geoff listened intently for 15-20 minutes even though the girls were begging him to go. On the way home he told us why she wanted to talk to us so much. We were Americans. During the German occupation in France, when she was 8 years old, her parents and all other family members were killed, along with many other townspeople. Those that survived escaped to the nearby hills to hide...for four years. They survived on plants and berries and bark. Somehow news came that the Americans were coming. She used to ask the older people, "What is taking them so long?" The answer was, "They are coming town by town." The Americans fought the Germans who occupied every single town and village in France until they were gone. When at last one day she saw a soldier walking towards her she felt very frightened. Soldiers had always been cruel. The soldier walked up to her and asked her name (of course she didn't understand and didn't answer). Seeing this scared, half starved and ragged little girl he pulled out a little piece of chocolate, a little ration he got occasionally for himself. He gave it to her and when she tasted it she couldn't believe how delicious and flavorful it was. The Americans took them back to their home town and the people began to rebuild. Not many French remember how bad it was then, and how much the Americans did for them. She remembered, though, and felt it was her duty to tell every American missionary that passed through, and any American she happened to meet.

Somehow these experiences have impacted me more than I'm able to articulate. Part of it is that we Americans have forgotten what we fought for, too. We take so lightly that so many people sacrificed their comforts, families, jobs, and homelands to get a little freedom to believe in what they wanted to believe by coming to America in the first place. Then they fought to have their own laws, laws that allow them to govern themselves and to be free. And when necessary we still fight for the freedom of other nations when we can. It is sobering to see how quickly life can go from comfortable and free to captive and desolate. In Oradour-sur-Glane I mentioned that there is still beautiful tile around the fireplaces. These weren't poor, country bumkins who were put to death. These were people just like you and me. It seems we take our freedoms for granted and one of these days we'll turn our backs and they will be gone. It happened to most of Europe during WWII. Another thing that had a large impact one me was living in a socialist country and seeing how the zest for life is absent. While there are few homeless, and while the homeless can get carried away to the hospital if they need to be, the spiritual and emotional lights are out. We seem to forget that man cannot really live by bread alone. A few weeks after we returned to the United States we celebrated the Fourth of July. I struggled to feel patriotic; to feel proud to be an American. I think it is because the America that I love doesn't seem to exist anymore. It could but it seems the majority of its people have forgotten what she stands for. It's people are forgetting the God she is built upon. It was easy to see it from afar and it is easy to see it now that we are back. I don't mean to sound pessamistic. I guess I feel more than anything that I don't take freedom or comfort for granted. And today, while I have it, I'll be grateful.