So another Christmas family post (and this is about all I've got). Herman Reimer, my grandfather, was a Mennonite. If you've listened to the recordings I posted previously, you can tell that he was a rather devout Mennonite.
Well, in 1917 he was drafted, the Great War and all. I don't know all that much about Mennonite beliefs, but I do know one important one - non-violence. From the photo here on the left, I gather that this was not an impediment to being in the army. But when the fighting started and the army placed him in a regular fighting unit, that wasn't so good.
He spent Christmas of 1917 in the detention barracks (DB) at Fort Levenworth, Kansas, with the general prison population there. Pretty shocking for a devout country boy.
Later the army moved him to a medical unit, so he could serve and not go against his Mennonite beliefs.
All of this is the intro for what follows, my grandfather's poem based on this experience. German was his first language, which is why some of the phrasings might seem different. Enjoy, and happy holidays.
Christmas at the D.B.
Snow had covered white the ground
Just half day hard days work done
So the sun was going down
And the evening new begunMany homes were cheering up
Children waiting joyful quite
Many trees were stationed round
Trimmed to the nicest sightChristmas eve had come again
Not for me the very best
Not with loved ones hand in hand
Just could think of good times past'Twas in prison in the D.B.
Where I spent the holy eve
Locked up behind the bars
Not a gift would I receiveJust the supper bell had rung
When we all lined up for mass
Marched into the dining room
Took our seat at supper messSupper time had barely passed
When a program got a start
Not at all the very best
Not in which I could take partNot a Christmas poem was said
By a sweet and happy child
Not the Christmas lesson read
But the crowd was going wild'Stead of hearing joyful songs
Awful noise was going on
Plates and bread it sailed along
Self respect seemed all be goneGuards and officers they came
Tried to shut the racket up
But the crowd did throw at same
Bread and spuds and coffee oups'Stead of seeing cedar buds
And the candles sparkling bright
Guards were seen with guns and clubs
Ready for the ugliest fightStill the crowd not all that way
Some were breathing deep and quite
Not a word they had to say
Thought how they could skip the fightWhile in many happy homes
Music rung so sweet and clear
Shots were heard and guns were shown
In the prison mess hall hereBut it turned all alright
One was hurt but not so bad
Could have been an awful fight
But they quit with throwing breadby Herman Reimer
