Deliberate kindness continues to inspire

    One of the best kept secrets of World War II was the presence of prisoner of war camps in the United States. With food in short supply in Europe, and American supply ships returning empty form the front, the US military crafted a plan to make better use of resources at home and abroad: supply ships would return to the United States carrying prisoners from the Axis armies; those prisoners would provide cheap labor in places where the war effort had drained the labor supply.
    “America Magazine” (Dec. 11, 2006) tells the story of one such camp, set up near the Canadian border, at the airfield in Houlton, Maine. Known as Camp Houlton, the camp housed German military prisoners of war. The POW’s became part of the work force in Maine’s woods and on local farms, filling in for the local men involved in the war effort overseas. Though the Germans brought there were part of the same enemy forces that Aroostook brothers and sons were fighting, many townspeople chose to act with deliberate kindness toward the prisoners, in the hope that their goodness might invite goodness on the other side of the ocean.
    There are many stories around town from the time of Camp Houlton. This time of year, one particular Christmas Eve stands out in this story of a deliberate kindness paid forward and returned.  In his book, “Behind Barbed Wire,” (2005) Milton Bailey describes a moment of peace born of a deliberate kindness.  Farmer H. Fenton Shaw appreciated the work of the POWs in his fields and woodland. His crew became like family, and at Christmastime, he decided that the prisoners should have a celebration according to their own customs. Each P.O.W. was allowed to take a small Christmas tree to the barracks, and on Christmas Eve, Shaw phoned the barracks with a story that his truck had broken down and he was unable to pick up his crew from the camp. The ruse got the prisoners a two day holiday, as was traditional in native homeland.
    When the truck was “repaired” the Shaw family delivered Christmas stockings for all the prisoners, each one filled with homemade treats and fruit. As a gift to their benefactor, the prisoners gathered outside the barracks, singing, “Stille Nachte, Heilige Nachte,” (Silent Night, Holy Night) into the wintry air. Anyone who has ever stopped to listen during a Houlton snowfall can imagine the still quiet of the surrounding woods, the frozen breath of the singers wisping into the biting cold of a December night in Maine.
    What was it that inspired townspeople like H. Fenton Shaw and so many others to act with kindness and compassion toward the prisoners? Many will tell you it was just the right thing to do. Most will say it wasn’t all that extraordinary. Some could see that the Germans were just young men, like their own sons and brothers. They were young and far away from home, with worried families on the other side of the ocean.  Maybe if the Germans were treated well, somewhere somehow, American soldiers would be treated well.  They could hope. For some, that hope became real.
      William Fortner of Newport, Kentucky was just a kid of 17 when he was captured by German soldiers along the German-Belgian border. It was December 16, 1944 when the German army launched a surprise attack in what would become one of the bloodiest battles of the war, the Battle of the Bulge. As he and a buddy tried to escape capture the following day, William was hit by machine gun fire. Local residents were hiding him in their home when the Nazis arrived in force.
    One was about to execute the young American when a German officer noticed the insignia on his jacket: Kentucky. “Do you know where Fort Campbell is?” the officer asked. His mind quickly turned to his two brothers, both German prisoners of war in Fort Campbell, Kentucky. Hoping perhaps things would go better for his brothers, the officer gave the order not to shoot the American. A deliberate kindness becomes a lifetime for this American soldier who marries and raises four children when the war ends.
    Ask him what he thinks of the experience?
    “I think I was damn lucky,” he told Cincinnati Post reporter David Wecker, in an interview published Dec. 16, 2005.
    William Fortner was luckier than most were that day. But, it takes more than luck to create moments of peace between enemies. What we hold in common is so great, in our deepest hopes and dreams for our families and our future. This Christmas season, may these stories inspire us take the opportunities to act with deliberate kindness and intention toward meeting our own deepest held hopes for peace in our world.
    Bea Broder-Oldach grew up in Houlton and, over the past seven years, has been researching the story of Camp Houlton, the POW camp during World War II. She continues to collect vignettes from this time period and just recently came upon a story from her local are, greater Cincinnati/northern Kentucky, which connected with some of the Camp Houlton stories.