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**Willi Z.** · 12-28-2009, 07:31 PM

Originally posted by ian tannahill View Post

giday everyone,<o

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i am very sorry kurt to hear of your loss. Adolf strauch was a very kind and generous man. We will miss him.<o

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for many years i enjoyed corresponding with adolf strauch and my library contains several books about the fallschirmjager that he kindly gave me.<o

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there is one story that adolf strauch told me that i will never forget. It is a story of hope which i will repeat below. I hope that those who read this story will be able to appreciate the message that adolf strauch is attempting to convey through recounting his experience of christmas 1943.
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a christmas story – reserve hospital no. 1 cracow
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“his bed stood opposite the door.<o

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in the room there were many beds, but he could not see them. Bandages covered his eyes. But he was still able to hear and to smell and could identify the stench of pus and of burnt flesh. He heard voices by the door. There were many, many voices, chiefly those of young women. The voices came closer. Somebody must be standing at the foot of his bed. He heard words exchanged. The voices were talking about him, but he didn’t really listen to them. He had been given a very strong dose of morphia and now all he wanted to do was to sleep. But still he could hear the raised voices of the women; talking about old men and the war. I am only 23 years old he wanted to tell them. Give me a mirror; but the swollen mouth stayed closed.<o

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his time in hospital was a routine of pain, then a pain-killing injection, followed by sleep, then pain again. Minutes, hours, days.<o

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he was lucky. He was still able to see. He looked at his burnt hands. Would he ever be able to use them again? He recalled the explosion on the way up the line. He realised that what had happened had been a stupid coincidence, a tragic accident, resulting in a second class wound and while thinking of the explosion he thought also of his comrades in action and of the battle they were fighting.<o

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now there were only a few days left. The fourth candle was burning on the advent wreath. By this time he had looked into a mirror and was able to bear the pain. There was still hope.<o

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on that christmas eve of the war year 1943, his thoughts carried him back home, to his home town with his parents, relatives and friends. Would the bombers come again tonight, he wondered? Everybody believed in a god, but he knew no answer and this made him think.<o

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the door in front of him opened. Strong hands took hold of his bed and he was pushed through corridors and along gangways until he reached a large hall. There were already a number of beds in that hall. It looked as if they were on parade waiting for him and now that he had arrived the parade state could be reported. Then he saw that christmas tree and the white candles. Somebody made a speech. The candles were lit and the christmas story was told again.<o

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the moment that he had feared had come. The sisters had placed themselves in front of the tree and began to sing the old christmas carol, “stille nacht, heilige nacht.” he looked at the other beds, saw the faces of the other men; their eyes aand lips. But he was a hard case. Hadn’t he played pontoon with the other men of his unit when they were flying in to take part in the battle for crete? He fought against his own feelings and lost the battle. Tears burned on his cheeks, burned like fire and he could do nothing about them.<o

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then it was all over. The electric lights were switched on. Soon they would be taken back to their own wards, but before they were he had time to exchange a few words with some of the others. To the left of his bed was a very young face. He saw only the face and the serious eyes. “where did you get it?” he asked. “frost bite” the young man replied. “have you had to have amputations?”, he asked. “oh yes. My legs.” came back the answer. “there are artificial limbs these days”, he said. “yes, so there are”, replied the young man and went on, “and i shall need them for my hands as well.” there was a sudden silence. Then the young man said, “i thank god that he has allowed me to live.”<o

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in the many years that have passed many things have happened but he has never forgotten that young man’s words.”<o

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every time i read adolf’s christmas story i am reminded of how fortunate i am – that there will always be someone less fortunate than me. When i am feeling low i pick myself up off the floor, so to speak, and move forward! As adolf strauch said, “will plus faith equals hope”.<o

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my prayers are that adolf strauch shall rest in eternal peace for he was a truly good man!<o

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best wishes,
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ian tannahill <o

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In Memory of Adolf Strauch

In Memory of Adolf Strauch

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