Whistling
in the Dark, Part II
by
Terry Bohle Montague
Portions of this article are excerpted from Mine Angels Round About
(Granite, 2000) by Terry Bohle Montague. All rights reserved.
Several
West German missionaries were photographed with a German woman and
her son who provided them a meal in 1939. That’s Elder Seibold
in the middle, sporting the double pair of horns. The other elders
are Wilford Wegener, Darrell Robins, Claytor Larsen, Frank Swallow,
Fred (Fritz) Duehlmeier, and Elmer Tueller.
Part II-Escaping
through Closed Borders
Missionaries evacuating from the southern
and eastern parts of the mission came into the mission home all
during that day. President Wood called several of those to a meeting
where he told them the surprising news that Holland had closed its
borders to everyone but those who had a substantial sum of money.
German law
said no one could leave the country with more than 10 reichmarks
(about $2.50). That meant many of those who had evacuated from the
northern and western parts of the mission and had already arrived
at the German-Dutch border, were almost penniless and stranded.
There was no possibility of wiring instructions and additional money
to them because the telegraph wires had been reserved for military
messages only. Worst of all, after 10:00 p.m. on Sunday, August
27th , the military would take over the railway services
and civilians would not be guaranteed their destinations. Wood proposed
that one of the missionaries travel to border towns with the money
needed to get the missionaries either to Rotterdam or Copenhagen,
Denmark. He asked for volunteers.
Several missionaries,
including Norm Seibold, who had just arrived from Stuttgart, raised
their hands. President Wood dismissed the meeting and then, as the
men left the room, he asked Seibold to remain. "Brother, have you
ever carried a message to Garcia?" This, in reference to a recent
movie.
"No, but I'd
be willing to try," he replied.
President Wood
gave Seibold an envelope containing 500 marks as well as railway
tickets to Copenhagen. He instructed the missionary to travel the
railway lines along the German-Dutch border and search for the stranded
missionaries. How Seibold found them would be up to him, but he
must see the missionaries were evacuated to safety.
At 4:00 a.m.,
Sunday, August 2nd, Norm Seibold's train pulled into
the large Cologne railway station. The depot was massed with people
- Jews attempting to get out of the country, vacationers trying
to get home before the 10:00 p.m. deadline, and foreigners hoping
for any train that would carry them out of Germany.
Seibold fought
his way out of the crowded railway car and looked up and down the
platform. With so many people in the vast Cologne depot, how could
he hope to find a few stranded missionaries? But Seibold knew he
had been given a special mission and he had faith that help would
be provided as he needed it.
Seibold climbed
onto a nearby baggage cart and, above the noise and confusion around
him, pursed his lips and blew. Out came the first four notes of
Do What Is Right.
A few people
turned to stare. Seibold drew another long breath and whistled the
tune again. His first effort netted four fellow missionaries - Ferryl
McOmber, Dean Griner, William Manning, and Vern Marrott, who had
left his elderly companions, Nikolaus and Katharine Reigler, on
the other side of the station.
Seibold handed
Marrott an envelope and said, "I'm not going to take the time to
explain now because there is none. Just get on this train and then
open the envelope. You'll find instructions inside."
Marrott, the
Reiglers, Griner, and Manning boarded the train headed to Emmerich
where they would cross the border to Zevenaar, Holland. Ferryle
McOmber waited with Seibold in the Cologne station for several more
hours, thinking they might intercept other missionaries trying to
cross the German-Dutch border. At last, they moved on, arriving
in Emmerich at 9 in the morning where they found stranded Elders
Grant Baker, Ken Earl, William Alder, and Charles Jenkins Jr.
Seibold took
out the money President Wood had given him and explained the plan
that would take them into Holland.
An Emmerich
city policeman happened to be on the station platform and noticed
the elders. He also noticed the large roll of cash Seibold held
in his hand. At once, he suspected the group of attempting to smuggle
money out of Germany. The policeman approached the missionaries
and demanded to know their business. Then he ordered everyone to
turn their pockets inside out and open their wallets. Earl held
out 20 marks instead of the allowable 10. Seibold showed him the
500 marks.
"Give it to
me!" the policeman commanded.
"Over my dead
body," countered Seibold.
The officer's
face darkened. "Very well, but I must insist you come with me to
the police station."
"I don't have
to go anywhere with you," retorted Seibold. "You have no authority
here. I'll talk to the military police but I won't leave this station."
Aware of the
watching crowd, the policeman drew himself up with great authority
and said, "You are coming with me. Now!"
"I won't. I'm
an American citizen! I demand to see the military police!"
The officer
made a move to take hold of Seibold, who resisted. "Don't you dare
touch me. If you do, there's going to be a fight!"
The policeman
hesitated, uncertain.
"I'm an American
citizen! I demand to see the military police!"
The officer
glanced around at the astonished crowd. All eyes were on him. "All
right," he said
The officer
escorted Seibold and Ken Earl to an office in the inner recesses
of the Emmerich railway depot.
The military
police captain heard of the incident with an expressionless face.
When the policeman finished, the captain, in harsh tones and strong
language, reminded the officer no city policeman had any authority
in any railway station. He also ordered the city officer to leave
the depot and not return.
The captain
turned his attention to the two missionaries who stood before his
desk. He demanded an explanation.
When Seibold
finished, the captain nodded. He knew of the Mormons. He could understand
why the missionaries must leave Germany.
"I'm going
to write a pass for you," the captain told Seibold. "If you have
any difficulties in the railway stations as you leave, just show
this to the proper authorities." He wrote, then folded the sheet
of paper, and handed it to Seibold who tucked it in his coat pocket.
The pair left
the captain's office, Earl still in possession of his 20 marks and
Seibold with the 500. They joined the other waiting elders in the
station and the six proceeded to the border on the next train.
At the border
station, they found Dean Griner and William Manning. "The Dutch
officials wouldn't let us cross," they told Seibold.
"Where are
Elder Marrott and the Rieglers?" he asked.
Griner and
Manning shrugged in bewilderment. "Even with the extra money, the
border agents turned us back but Marrott and the Rieglers passed
through without a hitch."
In his journal
for that date, Seibold wrote:
"That
those two old people got through shall be a testimony to me as
long as I live. What we went through in the next 24 hours, those
old people could never have stood."
Seibold, McOmber,
Manning, Griner, Baker, Earl, Jenkins and Alder arrived in Zevenaar,
Holland, to learn the border had definitely closed. Not just to
those without money or "through tickets", but to everyone.
This
March 1939 morning must have been a cold one.
Norm Seibold sits against the radiator while studying his scriptures.
The border officials
rounded up the group of missionaries and herded them through the
station to an eastbound train. At 1:00 p.m. they were returned to
the Emmerich railway station. The Belgian, French and Swiss borders
had already closed, or would be closing in the next few hours. Their
only hope of escape appeared to be through Denmark.
Although the
government announced regular railway services would continue until
10 p.m., the missionaries discovered the trains no longer ran on
schedule. The station agents could not tell them when the next train
would be arriving or departing nor where it would be going. Neither
would they guarantee them their destinations. But the missionaries
had no choice.
Using part
of the money President Wood gave Seibold, they bought any available
passage left in the ticket office. The next train which arrived
in the station was headed north and the missionaries boarded it.
At Munster
they were "bumped off" and told the train was "for military personnel
only."
When another
northbound train pulled in, the missionaries were refused passage.
This train, too, was reserved for troop transport. The young men
decided when the next northbound train arrived, they would take
matters into their own hands.
After what
seemed like hours, another train arrived at the Munster station
bulging with soldiers and pulling flat cars loaded with tanks and
trucks. One of the missionaries walked up to the engineer and casually
asked, "In what direction are you headed?"
"North," he
replied.
The missionary
then signaled the others who waited on the platform. As unobtrusively
as possible, they gathered their hand luggage. The train whistle
blew. Heavy wheels began to turn. The missionaries waited. As the
train pulled out of the station, the missionaries dashed off the
platform after the moving train. Running until they could get hold
of the hand rails on the passenger cars, they swung their luggage
and themselves onto the train.
They reasoned
the conductor would not put them off while the train was going at
full speed and he would not halt the train on their account.
They were wrong.
At the next town, the engineer stopped the train and the conductor
ordered them off. The military police picked them up and interrogated
them. Seibold produced the pass written by the Emmerich railway
police captain and the group was released.
Later, the
missionaries were allowed to board a train bound north for Osnabruck
where it arrived minutes too late for a train that would have taken
them directly to Hamburg.
As with every
station the missionaries had been in during the previous 36 hours,
the Osnabruck depot was filled with people. While the eight waited
in the station, they were joined by six other West German missionaries,
Ben Lasrich, Donald Poulton, Louis Haws, Claytor Larsen, Frank Knutti
and Ellis Rasmussen.
One of the
group asked a station official when the next train was due. The
man frowned and shook his head. "No trains for several hours," he
replied.
A few minutes
later an unexpected northbound train arrived.
Since they
did not know how soon the train would depart, the missionaries wasted
little time getting aboard. Two of them climbed into a car and lowered
the window. Outside, another pitched luggage through the open window.
Then, as the train jerked forward, they boarded. Within seconds,
the train moved down the tracks.
In Bremen,
the missionaries were once more "bumped off" to make room for the
boarding soldiers. After discussing the situation, the missionaries
appointed one missionary to watch for incoming trains while the
others tried to rest on the wooden benches in the waiting room.
Train after train came into the depot but the missionaries were
refused passage on each of them. At last, they decided they must
change their own luck.
When the next
northbound train left the station, they raced after it, threw their
luggage aboard, and vaulted into the moving train. Again, they were
put off at the next stop.
They appointed
a sentry to watch for incoming trains, while the others rested on
the benches in the station. They gained passage on the next train
going to Hamburg. Again, two of them rushed onto the train and opened
the window while the others passed their luggage into the car and
then boarded on the run.
They arrived
in Hamburg at 11:00 p.m. just three minutes too late to catch a
train that would have taken them directly to Copenhagen via the
ferry. Someone in the station told the missionaries there was a
train headed for points north which was due to arrive shortly in
the nearby town of Altona.
They rushed
to Altona and boarded the northbound train at 1:30 a.m. Two hours
later they arrived in Neumuster where they were again "bumped".
There, they
bought some knackwurst soup and, exhausted, put their heads down
on the tables in the waiting room and tried to sleep.
The morning
of Monday, August 28th, they learned a train, destined
for Kiel, would be arriving within the hour. The station agents
felt there was a good chance they would be granted passage on it.
Having not
shaved in three days and anticipating their arrival in Denmark sometime
in the afternoon, the missionaries cleaned up as best they could
in the railway station.
At 8:00 a.m.
the train pulled into the station and the young men squeezed into
the already-packed cars. They waited and waited, but there was no
sign the train would be departing anytime soon. Although it was
still morning, the overcrowded cars were stuffy and uncomfortably
warm. The passengers lowered the windows.
After an hour,
another train pulled into the depot and stopped next to the one
on which the missionaries waited. Its windows were also open and
one of the young men suggested they "transfer". They climbed through
the windows of their train and through the windows of the second
one. They had no more than found seats, when the train began to
move and, within minutes, was on its way to Kiel.
In Kiel, where
the missionaries were to change trains again, they employed their
usual method of boarding. Two of them climbed into the train while
the others remained on the platform to pitch all their luggage through
the open windows.
Elder Seibold,
a strapping young man who had played guard on the University of
Utah football team, was considered the missionaries' best "pitcher".
Unfortunately, Seibold failed to notice the two missionaries who
boarded the train had not yet lowered the window. The suitcase flew
through the air and shattered the thick glass.
In stunned
silence, they stared at the glass on the platform. If the conductor
discovered the broken window, he would turn them over to the military
police and there would be another long delay before they could proceed
to Denmark.
Fortunately,
the conductor stood at the opposite end of the train and had not
seen the accident. The missionaries on the platform kicked the glass
under the train and onto the tracks. Then, the elders inside the
compartment lowered what was left of the shattered window so none
of the glass shards could be seen.
All but two
of the missionaries from the platform jumped into the cars. The
conductor glanced down the length of the train to see that all passengers
were aboard. The two waved and shouted, "Ready! Ready!"
The conductor
hesitated for a few seconds, then signaled the engineer to proceed.
The elders on the platform leapt aboard.
Just after
noon, the Denmark-bound missionaries arrived in Flensburg, a city
on the German-Danish border. The Gestapo scrutinized their passports
and searched their belongings. They demanded to see the missionaries'
cameras, opened them, and exposed the film.
The missionaries
arrived in Padborg, a Danish border town, at 1:00 p.m. They had
spent three days traveling across western Germany in hot, overcrowded
railway cars, rarely having the comfort of a seat. They slept minutes
at a time on benches and floors in the various stations, eating
almost nothing. They had been arrested, interrogated, threatened
on several occasions, and put off trains more than a dozen times.
For those exhausted
missionaries, the Danish language sounded like music and the peaceful
countryside looked like Heaven.
Norman Seibold
wired President M. Douglas Wood in Copenhagen and informed him of
the missionaries' safe arrival. He saw his fifteen fellow elders
onto a train bound for Copenhagen. Then, because he could not be
certain he had found all the "lost" missionaries, Seibold boarded
a southbound train and headed back into Germany.
As the train
stopped in cities, towns, and villages along the border, Seibold
got off and, whistling Do What is Right, continued searching
the railway stations.
In the Neumunster
depot, Seibold walked up and down the platform. A silent but clear
urging took him out of the station and into the street. He knew
the pass written by the military police captain in the Emmerich
station would not protect him once he left the train yards. But,
the prompting continued. He went down another street and around
a corner. He stopped in front of a gasthaus - a pub. It was not
the sort of place a missionary would frequent and Seibold considered
what his father would think if he went in. However, the unmistakable
feeling came stronger and propelled Seibold through the door.
There, seated
at a table, were two young men in dark suits and white shirts. Seibold
recognized them at once.
One of them
glanced up. Surprise, then relief flooded his face. He came out
of his chair with a bound, hand outstretched. "Am I ever glad to
see you," he said and pumped Seibold's hand.
"I'll never
forget the look in that man's eyes," Seibold later recorded.
The two stranded
missionaries had found their way to the gasthaus, exhausted and
hungry, and spent the last of their money on lemonade. Until Seibold
came through the door, they had no idea what they should do or where
they should go.
Seibold gave
the pair two tickets to Copenhagen, enough money for a decent meal,
and saw them onto a Denmark-bound train. Unaware all the stranded
West German missionaries were safely out of Germany, he continued
his search for another twenty-four hours.
For the lone,
weary elder, those 24 hours stretched beyond measurement as he rode
the overcrowded trains, without sleep, and with very little to eat.
At last, prompted he had fulfilled his responsibility, he returned
to the Danish border on Tuesday, August 29.
When Seibold
arrived in Copenhagen, President Wood threw his arms around the
young man in a mixture of relief, gratitude and joy. All the West
German missionaries were accounted for and safe.
On Friday,
September 1st, 1939, the Nazis marched into Poland.
On Sunday,
September 3rd, Great Britain declared war on Germany. Within hours,
France followed suit and the same day shots were fired over the
Rhine River. The war everyone predicted and feared became a reality.
By September
5th, the missionaries learned, to their great sorrow, they would
be evacuated out of Europe and on the 11th , the first
of many cargo ships began transporting them to the United States.
The voyage back was fraught with its own perils. Mines, U-boats,
cold, storms, and illness accompanied them.
In a June,
1940 Conference address, President Wood quoted a missionary who
had been asked if he thought they would survive the voyage home.
The missionary replied, "That's child's play after the things we
have been through in getting out of Germany. I don't think, after
all the trouble the Lord went to there, he would let us drown in
the middle of the ocean."
Most of the
missionaries of the West German Mission were reassigned and finished
their missions in the United States. Norm Seibold, who had only
a few months left of his three-year mission, was released. And he
lost his new-found ability to whistle.
The experience
of the evacuation has been an enduring one for Norman Seibold. Forty-five
years after the event, he was to admit whenever he was in a large
crowd, a familiar, urgent feeling rose in him and he felt impelled
to look for missionaries.
Norm
today at 86.
In all those
years, had he learned to whistle?
"No," Norm
laughed, "and don't you ever tell anyone I can't either."
After Norman
Seibold's mission, he married Ruby Davenport. They had six children,
four of whom are living. Three have served missions. Ruby died in
1971 and, in 1972, Norm married Dona Darly Ostergar. From 1982 until
1994, Norm served as a County Commissioner. Of that time, he says
he was "an ornery missionary and an ornery County Commissioner."
He and Dona are now enjoying a quiet retirement.
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