August 1, 1914 Germany declared war on Russia...
August 7, 1914 I also had to go into the Kaiser's service in Hildesheim. The first day we received military uniforms and shoes and some training. The following day we finished our training and were ordered to the front...we were to support the invasion of Belgium. We wore new gray uniforms, unknown to the Belgians at that time, and they thought we were English and received us very kindly. Soon their attitude changed and we told them not to fight against the invading army, and that we were commanded not to do any harm to civilians, unless they attacked us first. Very soon I learned that war is hell. During my service as a German soldier in World War I, I was in Belgium, but I did not shoot a bullet out of my gun in the five weeks I was there. I was there to help the wounded soldiers, give them first aid and help the doctors, when there was no battle on. I did not wound or kill anyone. In the field hospital during the battle near Haecht, Belgium, September 12, 1914 [not finding much specific info by Googling, but this was possibly at the tail end of the Battle of the Frontiers], I was heavily wounded while I was helping a fellow soldier to save his life. I was taken, together with other wounded soldiers, to the St. Jean Hospital in Brussels...
The following day I found myself in a hospital bed and in the presence of doctors and nurses. The surgeon-in-chief, an English doctor, seemed to be interested in my case. He explained to me the condition in which I was in. I got the impression that he would do his best for me, therefore I consented to his proposition to amputate my right shank, a few inches below the knee. This was done immediately after I consented. In a dream I saw a man burying the shank in the garden of the hospital. [I know this must have been a terrible ordeal, but I laugh every time I read his leg referred to as a shank. Also, at the thought of a shoe tree growing from the shank planted in the garden.]
After the operation I awakened from a deep sleep, I tried to leave the bed to go to the lavatory, but I found out that I could not walk with one leg. As I, from the bed, looked out into the garden of the hospital I saw three trees full of ripe fruit. I asked the nurse if I could have a plateful of cooked pears. She smiled, as the doctor came in she asked him my question. He answered her, give him what he wants, after eleven or twelve tonight he asks no more. I was surprised to hear the doctor thought the end of my life would come. Nevertheless, I thought that he was mistaken. The next morning as the doctors and nurses visited at my bedside, the chief surgeon asked me in German, "How are you?" I told him that I felt better than I thought I would last evening...I told him that I would not die yet, but he answered that he had never before seen a man living with such high fever...on my birthday, November 19, I was carried from Brussels, Belgium to Hamburg, Germany...I was in great pain, day and night and could hardly sleep...the surgeon-in-chief there told me I had to undergo another operation because the English doctor had made a mistake which he must correct, but I replied that I do not believe that and...I did not consent to be re-operated upon. From that time on he neglected my wound and for two weeks it received no new dressing. However, I had enough knowledge to help myself and when the two weeks were over my wound was in excellent condition. With the help of the Lord he did not get power over me to reoperate.
In the hospital were about two thousand wounded soldiers. [Army of Helaman, much?] Being one of them I had excellent opportunity to explain the principles of the restored Gospel. The members of the Hamburg Branch of the Church visited me daily in groups of five, ten and sometimes fifty. At times there were more saints in the hospital than in the meetinghouse...
The chaplain in charge of religious instruction at the hospital, the doctors and nurses, even everybody in the 2,000 bed hospital heard some principles of the restored gospel explained and my testimony. Some days later I was officially forbidden to give tracts to anyone in the hospital and threatened with heavy punishment. This decree went out about 9:00 A.M. At that time I had about 600 tracts at my bedside, enough for about a month's distribution. [A month?! Feeling very ashamed about my missionary street-contacting success rate right now...] I did not give out one of them, but some soldiers came and took them from my storage place, sat down on the tables and read them. After they had read them they asked me why distribution of them should or could be forbidden. Many came and asked me religious or moral questions. After the evening meals until 9:00 P.M. the room was full with investigators. I answered their questions and explained correct principles to them.
The pastor, the surgeon, and others now felt outwitted, but had no lawful means to stop my activity. A mob was organized who should mishandle me while I was sleeping during the night, bind me and hit me until I was black and blue with blood. I did not know of their plan until the following morning when the leader of the mob came to me and asked me to forgive him, then I got an idea of the devilish plan. I realized that I was saved like father Abraham, as he had been taken by the idolatrous priests and bound to one of their altars to be offered as a sacrifice and was saved from such an ordeal. I answered the mob leader that I had never before in my life had a better sleep than last night. He answered, "I and those who were with me will not do any more against you no matter what you say or do."He was transferred to another hospital two weeks later, and after four more weeks was discharged from the military. He was awarded both the Iron Cross and the Distinguished Service Cross.
How cool was that story? I made the stripling warrior connection and he compared himself to Abraham, but you can also draw parallels between GGP's story and those of Paul, Joseph Smith, Peter and Vincenzo di Francesca, at a minimum. This may be my final post drawn from my great-grandfather's diary, and if so it's a good way to go out. This is definitely my favorite section in it. If you ever see me laugh while singing "I hope they call me on a mission, when I have 'grown a foot' or two," you'll know that I'm thinking about GGP, his shank, and the great missionary he was. God bless the veterans from our country and others.
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