Editor’s Note: The following was first published in The Remnant many years ago. We’re publishing it again now in memory of the founding editor of The Remnant, Walter L. Matt, who went to his eternal reward in 2002. The article was written by the present writer when he was much younger, and it is essentially a retelling of the true story my father used to tell his nine children about an experience one Christmas Eve during World War II. Please remember him in your prayers. MJM
The story I am about to tell is most assuredly a true one. It is a story told to me by a war veteran of the Second World War, and he assures me that this story is not an invention. This old soldier is very much in earnest, and, although it is my pen that puts these words before you now, it is his voice that spoke the words to me. And his words are true. I write the story for you exactly the way I heard him tell it—first when I was a boy, and once again, not long before he passed away.