Continued from Friday. Bill Hornets writes…
Miraculously, amazingly he survived the night. Digging himself out of his snow pit he was confronted by a high sun, a bright brilliant day, a beautiful shining white winter wonderland, with the snow covering the scars of war.
He stood there in his too big overcoat, cold , hungry, oh so hungry, and he stank. But he knew the day was his. He didn’t know how. He didn’t know why. You see, he was beginning. He was beginning the rest of his life.
He was discovered by a forward patrol of eight American soldiers, only ten or twelve years older than he was. He was terrified; all he saw was uniforms and guns. One of the soldiers unwrapped a small bar of chocolate and carefully offered it to him. Tentatively he took it . He ate ravenously.
With all of that American generosity and warmth, it was, “Come on kid, you come with us,” they took him to their base, fed him on meat and potatoes which he devoured like the hungriest wolf in the world. They put him on a mattress and covered him with blankets. He slept and slept and slept.
He became their mascot. Where they went, he went. Slowly he began to speak their strange language. Slowly he was becoming an American.
Five of them smuggled him into America, the other three were left dead on the killing fields of Europe. He quickly became legal, and grew up in Los Angeles, growing into a beautiful man who many of you have seen many times. He’s an old man now, his grandchildren have children.
No, I’m not going to tell you who he is, he wouldn’t want you to know. He’d simply want you to know the story of his beginning.