by Dean Hughes
“I told you to come with me. Instantly.”
Elder Mecham seemed to think things over this time. Several seconds went by before he said firmly but quietly, “No. I’m staying right here.”
Chapter 17
The policeman glanced around at the other missionaries, and then he focused on Elder Mecham again, who was a full head taller than the policeman. He seemed to be considering his options. He certainly knew he couldn’t overpower Elder Mecham, but he could possibly call for help. He gradually turned and began to scan the crowd, obviously looking for other officers.
But surprisingly, it was Elder Mecham who pointed off toward a station exit. “I won’t leave the station, but I am willing to talk to those military policemen over there.”
Elder Thomas couldn’t think what Elder Mecham was doing. But the policeman jumped at the chance to get the big elder over to other authorities. “Yes,” he said. “We will go to them.”
Elder Mecham set out, the policeman following, and the other missionaries trailing along in single file. Elder Mecham made his way to the officers and then said, “I’m an American missionary. I’m trying to leave Germany.” Then he explained about the money he was carrying.
Elder Thomas was amazed by Elder Mecham’s improved German, but even more by the authority in his voice. He and the others stayed back and let Elder Mecham handle the situation himself.
“This man wants to take my money,” Elder Mecham said. “And that’s not right. I’ll give up any money I have left when I reach the border, but he has no right to take it from me now.”
The two German military policeman listened, but their faces, their steady eyes, revealed no reaction. The taller of the two, a man who looked to be a match for Elder Mecham, said, “We will decide what is right. That’s not for you to say.”
“I told him he was under arrest,” the local policeman said. “But he refused to go with me.”
“You resisted arrest?” the big officer asked.
“I made a promise. I have to help my friends. And this man wanted to steal my money from me. I couldn’t let him do that.”
“What do you mean, ‘steal’?” the local policeman demanded. He took hold of Elder Mecham’s arm. “You will be very sorry you said this. Come with me to the station now.”
But no one moved. Elder Mecham looked at the big officer and said, “This is wrong. You know it is. We have a right to leave your country. I have a right to help my friends.”
“Enough talk,” the local officer said. “Help me take him.”
The two military officers glanced at each other, as though to measure the other’s response. And then the bigger man asked, “What were you going to do with this man’s money?”
The policeman let go of Elder Mecham’s arm and faced the officer squarely. “You have no right to question my honesty,” he said, his voice full of indignation.
But the officer said, “I do question it. I trust this man’s honor more than yours. Leave now. I’ll handle this matter.”
“You have no authority over me.”
“I’m taking authority. What are you going to do about it?”
“I can return with more officers from our station.”
“Yes. But you won’t.”
The policeman stood his ground for a time, and then he said, “You have not heard the last from me,” and he walked away. But he sounded defeated.
“Just a moment,” the military policeman said to Elder Mecham. He walked to a desk near the exit. He picked up a pen, dipped it in a bottle of ink, and wrote something on a sheet of paper. Then he brought the note to Elder Mecham. “This may help you, if someone else stops you, but I can’t guarantee it. You must leave the country as soon as possible.”
“I have to look for other missionaries,” Elder Mecham said.
“I understand that. But I wouldn’t take long.” And then he reached out his hand. “Good luck,” he said, in English.
Elder Mecham thanked him, and then he walked to the other missionaries. “That was amazing,” Elder Peterson said.
“Not really,” Elder Mecham said. “Germans believe in honor.”
“Maybe so,” Elder Thomas said, “but how did you know to talk to these army guys? I thought you were getting yourself into a bigger mess.”
“I don’t know why I did that. I said it before I’d thought about it—and as soon as I did, I thought I’d made a mistake.”
“The Lord is looking out for us,” old Brother Pfortner said. He was an American, but a native German. He spoke English with a heavy accent. “God told that officer what was right.”
Elder Thomas felt a chill go through him, and he felt sure that Elder Pfortner was right. He finally thought to close his eyes for a few seconds and say a prayer of thanks.
“Look, I need to keep going,” Elder Mecham said. “I can’t tell you exactly what to do. You’ll have to take whatever trains you can catch. I hope the conductors will honor these tickets.” He looked at the Pfortners. “The Dutch might be stricter about letting the young missionaries through—but maybe you can make it the way Elder Smith and his wife did.”
“Yes, yes,” Sister Pfortner said. “We must try this. We can’t make it the other way.”
Elder Thomas hated to think what might happen to them if they didn’t get across the border, but he thought the Lord would help, somehow.
Everyone talked things over after that. Elder Thomas agreed to go with Elder Mecham to find the stranded missionaries. Elder Taylor decided to leave with the others for the border, and then to head north to Denmark if that didn’t work. And so everyone went together, for the moment, to see whether they could catch the train to Bentheim, on the Dutch border. The man at the gate said the train was going to be late. Everyone else decided to wait, but Elder Mecham and Elder Thomas found a train heading to Oberhausen, a closer town, and they got on. The train was slow in getting started, but when it pulled out of the station, the elders knew they were moving toward the area where some of the missionaries might be—which was better than waiting in Köln for a train that might not come for another hour.
Along the way, the elders talked about their experiences since they had last seen each other. Elder Mecham was excited to hear all about the Stoltz family, and Elder Thomas was overjoyed to know how much Elder Mecham had grown as a missionary.
Elder Thomas was also impressed with the way Elder Mecham led the way when they got off the train in Oberhausen. He strode to the ticket booth, and he worked out the next plan. There was a “milk run” train that stopped in every town along the border. It was just the right thing, except that it was very crowded. Elder Mecham bought tickets anyway, and then the elders boarded and found standing room. The train was under way before Elder Mecham said, “I hope you don’t mind how I’m doing this, but President Wood told me to follow my impressions and somehow find those missionaries. I said, ‘Don’t worry. I’ll find them.’ So I feel like I’ve got to be the one to carry this through.”
“That’s good, Mit. I like being the junior companion.”
“You were the best senior I could have had, Elder Thomas. You showed me how to do this work. I don’t have any patience with elders who waste their time.”
“Did you ever take that trip to the Black Forest?”
“Heck, no.” Elder Mecham laughed. “Some of these missionaries are running around all over. But after the Lord saved my skin in Frankfurt, I made up my mind I was going to give him his money’s worth.” He smiled and dropped a big hand on Elder Thomas’s shoulder. “I guess if the Lord can make a half-baked missionary out of me, he can do just about anything.”
“I hope he doesn’t bake you till you’re done,” Elder Thomas said. “You’re about right—a little doughy in the middle.”
Elder Mecham picked up his hand and gave Elder Thomas a pretty good whack on the shoulder. And he laughed, in that big voice of his, causing everyone in the car to look his way.
The plan was to get off in the first border town; then the
y could work their way north. But as the train was pulling into one of the towns still a few kilometers distant from the border, Elder Mecham suddenly stooped and looked out the window.
“Let’s see,” he said. “I’m thinking maybe we’d better get off here and take a look.”
“I doubt anyone would—”
“Come on. I think we’d better.”
“Should we leave our baggage on board?”
“Uh . . . no. The train won’t be stopped long.” He reached up and grabbed his own bag, nothing more than a satchel, and then pulled down Elder Thomas’s bigger suitcase. He pushed his way past a few people and stepped off the train, carrying both bags.
Elder Thomas caught up quickly and took his suitcase from Elder Mecham, who walked into the little one-room station and looked around. A few people were sitting on the benches inside, but certainly none were missionaries. A man just inside the door asked, “What can I do for you?”
“Have you seen any Americans?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Let’s get back on the train before it pulls out,” Elder Thomas said. “We don’t want to get stuck here.”
“Just a minute.” Elder Mecham walked on through the
station, stepped outside, and scanned the area. “When we were on the train,” he said, “I got this really strong feeling that we ought to stop here. And now I don’t know why.”
“Maybe it was just—you know—a mistake.”
Elder Mecham didn’t answer. He was still looking at the street that led away from the train station.
“We’d better get back on the train, Elder.”
Elder Mecham stood for a moment. “Maybe so,” he said quietly. But then he took a step forward. “No. We need to take a look around here.”
“Look around?” Elder Thomas couldn’t believe this. There was nothing to look around at. The town was a tiny village. If missionaries had ended up here for some reason, surely they wouldn’t have left the train station.
Elder Mecham picked up both bags again, and he marched away, taking those long steps that Elder Thomas remembered all too well. The day was getting hot now in the early afternoon, and Elder Thomas saw no reason to walk so fast. They could check out this whole town in ten minutes—at an easy pace.
“Where are you going?” Elder Thomas finally asked.
“I’m not sure. I just feel like I need to keep looking.”
Elder Thomas was losing patience. He believed in the Spirit, but this was sounding downright silly. Maybe Elder Mecham had become a little too zealous in all his newfound faith.
The elders passed some shops—a Bäckerei that smelled wonderful, for one thing—and then came to a Gasthaus. “Let’s take a peek in here,” Elder Mecham said.
This was the one place in the village that was worth checking, so the two stepped into the little restaurant, which was filled with long tables, most of them empty. Elder Thomas took a quick glance and was about to turn, when he came to a stop. Two men were sitting at a nearby table—wearing suits.
Elder Mecham burst into laughter. “Hey, Elders,” he said.
The missionaries looked up, one twisting in his seat. Both were wide-eyed. But in another second they were scrambling out of their seats and heading toward Elder Mecham. “How did you know we were here?” one of them was asking.
“I didn’t know. You’re just lucky the Lord knew. You did your best to hide from him.”
Everyone shook hands. Elder Thomas was somewhat acquainted with one of them, Elder Thompson. The other said his name was Elder Maw.
“How did you end up here?” Elder Mecham asked.
Elder Thompson was a tidy young man, normally, but he hadn’t shaved for a couple of days and his tie was hanging loose. “We got to Bentheim, and they wouldn’t let us through. So we got on a train—without tickets—just hoping no one would notice. But a conductor kicked us off here. We just spent our last few pfennigs to buy some apple juice. We didn’t know what we were going to do after that.”
“I never would have gotten off that train,” Elder Thomas said. “It was all Elder Mecham. It’s a miracle we found you.”
“I’ll tell you what,” Elder Mecham said. “God told me—just as clear as a bell ringing—to get off here. I’ve never had such a sure feeling in my life. Then ol’ doubting Thomas got me worried, and I almost gave up. But God wouldn’t let me do it.”
“Are you serious? You got off the train to look for us?”
“I just felt something. I just . . . knew.”
A long silence followed, and Elder Thomas saw the awe in both elders’ eyes. “We’ve been praying—a lot,” Elder Thompson finally said. His eyes had filled with tears.
Elder Mecham took his billfold out. “I’m going to give you money for tickets,” he said. “But I don’t know how to tell you to get to Denmark. You’ll have to follow your own inspiration.”
And so the elders walked back to the train station, and Elders Thompson and Maw got tickets on a train to Hanover. Elder Mecham and Elder Thomas waited until the next train came through, and then they departed for the border. They found four more missionaries in one little border town, this time in the train station. And then, when they reached Bentheim, they walked off the train and immediately spotted a whole group of elders.
“Elder Thomas,” one of them called, an elder named Sanders who had come over on the boat to Germany with Elder Thomas.
Elder Mecham walked ahead. “I have money,” he said. “President Wood sent me to find you.”
“We’re okay,” Elder Sanders said. “We have tickets.”
“Where did you get the money?”
All the elders laughed. They were a tired-looking group, all with unshaven faces and wrinkled suits. “It’s a long story,” Elder Sanders said. “We got across the border, to Oldenzaal, but the Dutch border guards stopped us and told us we couldn’t enter the country. So we called the mission office in Amsterdam, and the mission president told us he would send someone with money for tickets to Denmark. But we got sent back across the border before anyone could reach us.”
Elder Sanders put his arm on another missionary’s shoulder. Elder Thomas didn’t recognize him. “This is Elder Kest,” Elder Sanders said. “He came from Amsterdam. He’s leaving in a few minutes to head back. His story is the one you need to hear.”
“How did you get into Germany?” Elder Mecham asked.
Elder Kest smiled. “I got to Oldenzaal,” he said, “and the guards told me the missionaries had been sent back to Germany. I didn’t know what to do. I tried everything I could to get a visa, but I couldn’t get one, so I got on the train anyway. And for some reason, the border guards didn’t check my passport. They just let me go.”
“That’s impossible,” Elder Thomas said.
“I know. But it happened.”
“But not on the German side,” one of the elders said.
“I got arrested on this side,” Elder Kest said. But he was still smiling. “The German border guards took me into a little room and asked me all kinds of questions. And they searched me. They took some tracts I had and read them. And then they started confiscating everything I had in my pockets.”
“Did they take your money?” Elder Mecham asked.
“Yes. But I had bought tickets and brought them with me. I knew those guards were going to take them, so I took them out of my pocket and just set them on the table. But they just let them sit there—right in plain sight.”
“Why?” Elder Thomas asked.
“I don’t know for sure. I know this sounds crazy, but I don’t think they saw them. I set them down, and no one even blinked. It was like they couldn’t see them.” Elder Kest motioned with both hands past his eyes, as if to indicate a veil.
“So did you get them back?”
“Yes. They told me to go back into Holland on the next train—leaving in forty minutes—and they would give me back my things. But the tickets were still on the table. As I got up to leave, I reached out and p
icked them up, and I swear, no one seemed to see me do it. It’s like they were blind to it. I walked out with the tickets, and they let me go. Then it was another miracle that I found the elders. I asked around, and someone had seen them and told me where to look.”
Elder Thomas thought of Elder Pfortner’s words again. “The Lord is looking out for us.”
“So you have a way to get back to Amsterdam?” Elder Mecham asked.
“Yes. The train should be here any minute now.”
Elder Mecham nodded. “Let me give you some more money. And before you go, if it’s all right, I’d like to have a prayer with all of you.”
They walked outside and found an alley where they could step off the street. Elder Mecham thanked the Lord for his guidance, and he asked a blessing on Elder Kest and all the German missionaries that they would be able to leave the country safely. By the time he had finished, Elder Mecham was fighting to control himself, and after, all the missionaries had tears in their eyes. They shook hands all around and wished each other the best. Confidence seemed high, but Elder Thomas knew everyone would feel a lot better once they were actually out of Germany.
Elder Mecham and Elder Thomas talked things over again. They considered all the possible routes that missionaries might have taken to the border, and where the two of them might look for the ones they still had not located. They decided they would have to head south again, retrace their steps, and check some of the towns farther from the border.
For another day and night, Elder Mecham and Elder Thomas tried everything they could think of, but they found no one else.
By the time they had made the trip south and then all the way back to Bentheim, it seemed highly unlikely that they could have missed anyone. But they walked outside, knelt, and prayed. When they were finished, Elder Mecham said, “I feel like the others must have managed to get out somewhere—without our help. What do you think, Mit?”
“Well, I don’t see any reason to go south again. But more than anything, I trust what you’re feeling. God is working through you, Elder Mecham.”
It would have been more like Elder Mecham to deny that, but he said, “I know. And I feel like it’s time for us to see whether we can get out. President Wood told me not to stay so long that I couldn’t get out myself.”
