 The DuPont Company of Wilmington, Delaware, makers of better things for better living through chemistry, presents the Cavalcade of America. Our play is Barbed Wire Christmas based on the true experiences of GIs in a German prisoner of war camp. Our star, Edmund O'Brien, before Christmas in 1944, the place, an American prisoner of war camp deep in Germany. In a snow-covered compound, a group of American prisoners stands shivering in the icy wind, waiting for morning roll call. When you hear this whistle, you will come to attention. A message from the commandant. At the eve of Christmas, the curfew will be extended to one o'clock. Take notice. It's eve of Christmas only. On all other nights, as usual, any prisoner found outside barracks will be shot. This is the story of that Christmas eve, a Christmas that I and 4,000 other American enlisted men spent in a German prison camp. We lived in flimsy barracks surrounded by barbed wire and trigger happy German guards. We were forever cold and wet and hungry, and I mean really hungry. My name is Peterson, Sergeant Bert Peterson, as the elected leader of the 150 men of Barrack 35B, my main problem was to keep us all alive until the Allied armies came for us. And now, with another horrible German winter beginning, the only thing that kept us from doing something desperate and suicidal was our conviction that it wouldn't be too long now. Most of us kept up our hopes, but some, like a kid from West Virginia named Nick, like to sit around the barrack and worry about it. Hey, Pete, how long you think it'll be, huh? I mean, before we get out. I don't know, Nick. Soon, I hope. Well, like when? I mean, make a guess, huh? Well, I don't know. Maybe, maybe a month, if we're real lucky. And we're real lucky, typefellas. Got a roof over our heads, three square meals a month, and all the water we can drink. Who needs more? Outside of human beings, that is, or animals. Well, why a month? Our guys are in Germany already, only 400 miles away now. 400 miles? Nothing at all. They'll be bouncing in here on their Pogo Sticks first thing tomorrow. Hey, Pete! Hey, Blackie, where you been? Over to the chaplain's office. Hey, you know, we're all gonna have a midnight mass Christmas, even the chapel. Ain't that charming now. What do you mean, we all? I mean, the whole camp, anybody wants to come. That's better, because frankly, I couldn't be less interested. Yeah, we know, we know. Hey, Milstein? Yeah? Father Moran wants to know if you'll sing at the service. Hey, Pete! Sure, why not? Hey, Pete, you hear the BBC News this morning? No, no, I didn't. I don't know why. Well, this gerry-god was talking outside just now, and he said that the Americans and the British were retreating like crazy back in the voucher, and that the war was just starting, and he said we'd be here for years yet. Yeah, they're always yakking like that. You already believe that stuff? I don't know, but it's just what I heard, is all. Well, we can check it tonight on the radio, but it sounds phony to me. It better be, because I ain't staying here another winter. You're not, eh? No, my friend, I'm not. I had plenty last winter, more than plenty, and I ain't taking it again. So, what you got in mind, Nick? There's 4,000 of us, ain't there? 4,000 against a handful of crouts! Uh, Nick, you ever hear about Love 3? Our guys tried a mass break there, remember? And they got mowed down like so much hay. Not one man got out. Not one. So they didn't plan right. That's all. All I know is that stuff about the Jerry's counterattack is on the level. I ain't staying here. And, brother, I won't be the only one. Believe me that! I believed them, all right. If the news was true, there'd be all kinds of desperate prison breaks, all resulting in one thing. Plain, simple suicide. That night, to catch the BBC news, I hauled out the crystal set I'd built. Radios were strictly forbidden by the Jerry's, so we had to take precautions. What do you want me, Pete? Get that window, Hansid. Okay. A HUD. You get by the door, and sing out if you hear anything. Right. And loud, because I can't hear so good with these earphones on. Okay. All clear here. Nobody coming? All right, now keep it quiet, huh? The news ought to be on right now. What's he singing, Pete? Yeah, is it on? What's he saying? There's some news. Quiet. When you're quiet, I can't hear. I got it. I think it's London. Yeah, here's the news now. On Western Front, situations are increasingly serious. And vicious counter-attack. German forces have bulged back into Belgium. Some places to depth of 50 miles. The United States 101st Airborne Division reported to be cut off and surrounded at Bastogne. So it's true, huh? So it's true. So we're never getting out of here. Never getting out of here. Yes, it seemed to be true, all right. Very little was said that night after the news. The lights went out at nine as usual. And as we crawled into our sacks, no one slept. Each man I knew was lying there thinking, brooding, planning. Slowly building himself up to a state of suicidal desperation. As barrack leader, it was my job to get their minds busy with something else. But what? Finally, long after midnight, I thought of something. And in the morning, first thing after all, I called the barrack. All right, you guys, simmer down now, huh? And the purpose of this meeting? Well, it's not very long until Christmas and, well, we haven't done anything about it. What? The Yuletide season upon us so soon gracious me, our time doth fly. Christmas in this place, who cares? Well, I do, Nick, for one. You would. Okay, so I'm a sentimental fool. But I, well, I had some kind of a Christmas tree, for instance, every year of my life and some kind of Christmas dinner. And I'm going to have them this year. Jerry's are no Jerry's. Count me in, Pete. Me too, Pete. Okay, Blackie. And the name's Milstein. And I still think it's a good idea. Had a boy, said. Like I said, I still don't care. Oh, shut up, will you? What do you got in mind, Pete? Well, like a, like a Christmas tree, for one, and, and decorations, and, and some kind of special dinner. And we could put on a show. And later, they'll be the midnight mass for whoever wants to go. Goodie, goodie, goodie. But will you shut up with that stuff? If you want to go to your mass, you go to your mass. This is a free country. That's a joke, son. Just slipped out, Sid. Forget it. Anyway, we got to have some committees. Say, Blackie. Yeah. How'd you like to be chairman of the dinner committee? Okay, sure. Now, Hud, you're the comic around here. Suppose we put you in charge of the show. Oh, no, no, you don't, boy. Okay, okay. We vote. All those in favor of Hud being chairman of the entertainment committee, say, I. I. Opposed? No. Motion carries. Oh, for Pete's sake, I don't. And the show better be good, boy. Are you going to get four dozen ripe tomatoes, right? Hey, I'm going crazy or something. Who's got tomatoes? And so began what I came to think of as Operation Christmas. And it started to work. In each of us, memories of wonderful Christmas's long past were stirred into life. And strangely, each of us began to think of Christmas as his own personal possession to be recreated here in this dismal place down to the last minute detail. There were even a few arguments. A star on top of the tree? How come? Sidney is star. What else for Pete's sake? An angel, you dope. You got to have an angel on the tree. An angel? You're crazy as if you always have a star. Star of Bethlehem. Somebody, you don't even know what Christmas is about? Sure, I know what Christmas is about. Look, didn't this angel come to the shepherds out in the field and tell them that Jesus was born and were to find him? Yeah. Okay. That's why you always have an angel on top. And I'm chairman of the decorating committee and we're having an angel. Okay. Okay, so we put both on top. Put a star and an angel, okay? Okay. All right. Okay, no need to get so horrible. Who's getting sore? But behind them all was a deep common concern, a common spirit, the spirit of Christmas. And as Christmas Eve drew near, our tensions and worries were forgotten in our preparations for the party. All right. So now a report from the dinner committee, Blacky. Right. Well, this is what we got worked out, fellas. Each guy puts in two squares of K rations and one square D bar. And then he had some prunes, a couple slices of spam or some liver paste depending on what he's got. And I'm going to make us some cake out of what is commonly referred to as ingredients. Being namely some sodium bicarb tablets. And thank you, Fanny Farman. Yes, everything was going fine. And then the worst happened. It was the morning of Christmas Eve. We were all busy with our various job in the barracks. And we heard the shout that meant we weren't alone. Is it Jerry in the house? Jerry in the house. What's on your mind? Message from the commandant. Tonight it will be forbidden to have the midnight mass. Quiet! What do you mean forbidden? The one o'clock coffee will still be allowed. But the mass? Not just a minute, fellas. Just a minute. Why not? Why no mass? I do not make the order, Sergeant. All I know, the mass is forbidden. Always got some stupid reason. I don't like that. I don't, not a bit. You know I got a notion to go anyways. Yeah. They want trouble, we'll give them trouble. Ah, what are you yacking about, HUD? You weren't going anyway. All right, so I never had much use for that religious stuff. But to me, having a mass not to go to is just as big as you're having a mass to go to. Try it again in English. Maybe it's more like this, Blackie. You're a Catholic and I'm a Jew. But we've only got one chaplain here. And well, he happens to be Catholic. So we've got to sort of spread him around, so to speak. When he talks about God, I think of my God, and Pete here thinks of his, and HUD here thinks of his. Assuming he's got one. Joe, I got one. What do you mean? You think I'm some kind of atheist or something? One more problem. Nobody said that, HUD. Nobody said that. And let's simmer down, huh? Well, I'm going over to the chapel tonight. And I'd like to see the Jerry or anyone else who's going to stop me. Me too. I'm going too. They'll kill you. They'll kill all of you. They wouldn't dare. What difference does it make for Pete's sake? Who's going to live here anyway? I promise to sing Pete and I'm singing. So we're all going, Pete, whether you like it or not. What are you going to do about it, boy? Do about it? I don't know, HUD. I, frankly, don't know. We're going to our cavalcade played. Barbed wire Christmas, starring Edmund O'Brien. It was Christmas Eve, 1944. We were a bunch of GIs in the prisoner of war camp in Germany. As a barrack leader, I found myself faced with a serious problem. My guys were going to chapel for midnight mass, whether it meant getting shot or not. All I could do was go over and take it up with other barrack leaders. And when I got to their office, there were a couple of dozen other guys standing on the steps, barrack leaders and compound leaders, and also the chaplain, Father Moran. Hello, Pete. You too, Aaron. How are you, Padre? Say, what goes on here, anyway? Well, it's a strange and wonderful thing, Pete. It seems that 4,000 GIs, Catholics, Protestants and Jews, are suddenly all up in arms about a mass that most of them weren't going to, anyway. So we've asked the commandant to meet us here. Everybody, huh? Uh-huh. I thought it was only my guys. Hey, look. Oh, yeah. Here he comes, private army and all. Well, you asked to see me? About what, Captain Moran? Colonel, it's about the mass. First, you gave permission, and now you forbidden it. And our men are... Then, Gestapo and the city forbid it. Too many men in one place, not twice. But, Colonel, the men had determined to go. So you tell them it is forbidden. Excuse me, Colonel. They know it's forbidden. They know they might get shot. But they're at the point right now where they don't care. So if you want a few thousand corpses on your hands, you're going to get them. No, I want no trouble here. Then may I suggest that you ask the Gestapo to reconsider? Very well. I will ask, but their answer will take time, Captain. If it does not come before midnight, the order must be enforced regardless of the consequences. You will tell your men the order will be enforced. Quiet! Well, Padre, I don't know, boys. We could call off the service, just close up the chapel. But if the men show up anyway, I think I'd better be there to head off trouble. You know, I just can't get over it. I mean, what crazy, contrary, unreasonable, stubborn, and still profoundly wonderful characters Americans can be. I just can't get over it. I went back to the barrack and briefed the guys on what I'd heard. They listened and nodded and said nothing. They hadn't changed their minds about going to the mass. Just didn't want to argue about it. Barrack 35B was really something to see that night. Nick and Miller had built us a beautiful tree made out of branches fastened to a broomstick handle, and it was decorated with garlands of white tissue, scraps of colored paper, and spirals of tin from our powdered milk cans. And on the very top, there was an angel carved from soap, fastened to a cardboard star. Yes, it was really something to see. Dinner time came and still no word from the commandant. We had a fine Christmas Eve dinner that night. The span was fried just right and the potatoes were boiled to perfection. For dessert, we each had three stewed prunes and a slice of Blackie's specially baked cake. Pretty good too, whatever he'd made it out of. And then came the long-awaited show. We had all kinds of acts, but one I remember especially was Nick, because he sang of home. On top of old Smoky, all covered with snow, I lost my true lover from cordon to slow. On top of old Smoky, I went there. And comedians too, like the act that Hud and Blackie put on. Isn't her a war camp? Have I come to the right place? Yes, it was a fine show, but under all the laughter and applause, we knew that the men were still determined to go to that mass, come what may. It was late when the show ended. We sat around quiet now and exchanged Christmas presents with our best buddies. They were strange gifts, some of them, but very precious in many ways. Hey, hey, how do you like that, a can opener? Hey, Sid, where'd you get it? This isn't the one you had. You think I'm out of my head giving you my only can opener? No, no, I had an extra one. Well, fine. I mean, thanks. Thanks a lot. It's real charming of you, boy. Uh, here, you all right? I've got something for you. Hey, guys, the time is almost 12. Anybody interested? Yeah. Yeah, I'm interested. Hey, just a minute, hey? Just a minute, fellas. Now, please, give me a minute. I'll be brief. Yeah, well, the brief of the bed. All right, so right now, we never had it so bad. But we'll get out of here. You know we will. If we can just stay alive a little while longer. Don't forget, we've got lives waiting to be lived back home. We've got girls waiting and kids waiting to be born and raised and houses waiting to be lived in. Warm houses with good food on the table. Okay. Okay, you don't want any part of it. Okay. So go on out now and get yourself shot. Maybe so. Hey, hey, outside. Look, whole mob of guys from the other barracks heading for the chapel. Okay, there's going to be a mess. I'm going to sing. Yeah, let's go. Jerry's want to stop a few thousand of us. Let him try. Come on. Well, Pete, how about you? Yeah. Yeah, sure, sure. I'm coming. Let's go. There wasn't room for those who came after us. And soon there were hundreds of guys outside, bunched around the open doors and windows standing hatless in the snow. Inside, up by the cardboard candle at altar, somebody I couldn't see began to play the wheezy old organ. The faces around me were tight with determination and anxiety. Where were the Jerry's? Why hadn't we run into any on our way to chapel? Obviously, they were laying low. But why? We didn't know. We were tense and afraid. Whatever Father Moran felt during that midnight mass, it didn't show. For him, the Jerry's and their barbed wire no longer existed. It was Christmas and he was honoring the Prince of Peace. And then from outside, we began to hear something. And a whisper, starting among the men outside in the snow, swept inside the chapel from man to man, men whose nerves were at hair-trigger tension. The Jerry's, the Jerry's are coming. Okay, let them start something. The Jerry's. Come on, the Jerry's. They won't come up. Come on, we'll give it all. I just put you chicken easy now. The Jerry's were coming. We could see them coming towards us across the snow, rifles in hand. In a minute or two they were at the chapel door. We held our breath and waited. Not a man among us moved, but we were ready for anything. Then Father Moran turned and seemed to give a nod to Sidney Milstein. As Sid sang that age-old hymn, the Jerry's pushed their way into the chapel. An overcrowded as it was gradually, our prison place of worship was filled with our guards and captors. I knew that one of them was right behind me, but I didn't turn around. Stop us, but to join us. In all our anger and fear, we'd forgotten one thing. It was Christmas for them too. And remembering this, we began to sing. We all began to sing. The sky seemed wonderfully clear that night as we walked back to our barracks and the stars strangely bright. We didn't have to talk because each man's thoughts were alike. We knew now that the words we'd heard for so long were really true, that Christmas isn't only an anniversary, but a universal spirit of brotherhood, of peace, and goodwill. And in realizing these things, we'd lost our fear. We knew somehow that it wouldn't be long, that we'd soon be free, that we'd soon be home. And we knew too that this would always be the most memorable Christmas of our lives. The program was directed by John Zoller. With our star Edmund O'Brien, you heard Gary Wahlberg, George Petrie, Bill Zuckert, Ross Martin, Harry Jackson, Ed Jerome, Tony O'Cellward, Kermit Murdoch, Dan Ackow, and Nelson Omstead. The DePont Cavalcade of America came to you tonight from the Belasco Theater in New York City and is sponsored by the DePont Company of Wilmington, Delaware. Makers of better things for better living through chemistry. Hey, just for laughs, listen to Red Skelton on NBC.