A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE IN THE ARDENNES

That mother was Elisabeth Vincken, from the German city of Aachen near the German-Belgian border. The Vincken family’s home and bakery was destroyed by an Allied bombing raid in April 1944, forcing them to seek a new home. Elisabeth’s husband knew of a small cottage in the Ardennes, where he had stayed on hunting weekends before the war. He had Elisabeth and their 12-year-old son Fritz move there, hoping the isolation will mean safety. He himself had been drafted into a civil-defense fire squad in the nearby border town of Monschau, some four miles from the cottage. The relative proximity allowed him to visit his family regularly, and, in fact, they were planning to spend Christmas together.

Sometime on the evening of the 24th, a sudden knock came on the door of the cottage. Elisabeth quickly blew out the candles. Fritz went to open the door, but his mother overtook him and opened it herself. Three young American soldiers were outside, one of them deathly pale and lying in the snow. They had been separated from their battalion three days prior, and were trying to evade German forces and get back to their own lines; one of them was shot in the leg. They didn’t speak German, and Elisabeth spoke no English, but she looked at the desperate men and invited them in.

One of the soldiers and Elisabeth both spoke a little French and started to communicate. The three Americans were Jim (the one who spoke French), Robin and Harry, the wounded one, who quickly fell asleep, probably in large part from the blood loss. Elisabeth told Fritz to fetch six potatoes and Hermann – the three young men needed a warm Christmas meal more than her husband.

Harry’s leg was soon bandaged with cloth Elisabeth ripped from one of her bed-sheets, and the smell of roast chicken started filling the room. A new knock came. Fritz believed it would be more lost Americans and opened the door. This time, however, it was four young German soldiers. Seeing them, Elisabeth quickly stepped outside and greeted them with “Fröhliche Weihnachten” – “Merry Christmas.” The soldiers returned the greeting, and the corporal explained their presence. They have lost their regiment and were afraid they’ll freeze to death at night. They were hoping to stay at the cottage until daylight.

The German corporal asked if the men inside were Americans. Elisabeth replied. “Listen, you could be my sons, and so could they in there. A boy with a gunshot wound, fighting for his life, and his two friends, lost like you and just as hungry and exhausted as you are. This one night, this Christmas night, let us forget about killing.”

The first few moments of the meeting were tense for both sides, but Elisabeth took control and started to arrange her guests on the three chairs around the dinner table and the side of her bed. She whispered to Fritz to quickly get more potatoes and some oats to make more food: “These boys are hungry, and a starving man is an angry one.”

The men started to relax on both sides. Two of the Germans, Heinz and Willi, were both 16 and hailed from Cologne. Their corporal was 23. They produced a bottle of red wine and a loaf of rye bread and shared it with the Elisabeth, Fritz and the Americans. Half of the wine was set aside for Harry to help him recover.

The two groups spent the night in peace and prepared to part ways in the morning. Harry was given some broth and a drink made from the German wine, some sugar, and the only egg in the household, while the others had oatmeal. Two poles and Elisabeth’s best tablecloth were used to fashion a stretcher for Harry.

The details of this story have survived thanks to young Fritz Vincken. Later in life, he moved to Honolulu, opened a European-style bakery and became an American citizen. He tried to track down the American and German soldiers who have spent that miraculous Christmas night with him and his mother, but with no luck for a long time.