 Words at War presents a story by and with Hendrik Willem van Loon. Here is a preface to my story. The year is 1933. The speaker is Adolf Hitler. The words at war programs presented each week by the National Broadcasting Company in cooperation with the Council on Books in Wartime. The prefatory scene, you've just heard, is described in Herman Rauschening's preface to the Ten Commandments, a volume of ten short novels of Hitler's War Against the Moral Code. The novels themselves were written by ten distinguished writers. And the story we present tonight, a story that will be narrated by the author himself, is Hendrik Willem van Loon's The Ninth Commandment. This is the Ninth Commandment. Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor. It is coming, Samuel. It is coming the train. I hear it, wife. Oh, Samuel, I wonder what he will be like, our little German boy. Calm yourself, wife. It is unseemly for a God-fearing woman to show excitement in public places. Yes, Samuel. As for what our little German refugee will be like, well, you may rest assured of one thing. He will be hungry. You see, I've called him Samuel, but that was not his name. And I shall call the town where he lived by the name of Nieustadt, which is not its name either. But I can tell you this. It's a very ancient town, a town reaching its history back to the 12th century. A typical Dutch town where the typical Dutch people live, you know, live in either love or fear of God and of God's word. And in this respect, at least, Samuel, the picture frame maker, was very typically Dutch. He regarded the Holy Bible as the only really good book. He was industrious, he was honest, dignified, stubborn, and dull. But in the matter of morals, ah, he was distinctly narrow-minded. But Samuel also had a heart. He was always willing to lend a helping hand to those in trouble. And that's why, on a day in the year 1919, he and his good wife and company with all the other Nieustadt burgers stood at the little railway station to welcome a trainload of half-starved German children. Children who had been nursed on potato peels and ersatz milk and little elves, the most pitiful victims of the latest outbreak of human folly of World War I. And now, here you are, Samuel. Here is your little boy. His name is Johan. Johan, you live with Mr. and Mrs. Samuel and their children, and you will love them for their kind people. I'm afraid he doesn't understand anything I've said. You see, he doesn't speak our language. He will learn soon enough, Doctor. He looks like a bright boy. Ah, yes he does. Come, my little one, come home with us now. We are so happy to have you. Oh, I'll feed you plate full of rich cream and chocolate. I'll give you soup and... Oh, no, no, Mrs. Samuel. Please, do you wish to kill your little child? Kill him? But, Doctor, I do not understand. The doctor means good wife that to little children such as these too much food is dangerous. Exactly. We have found that during the first weeks, at least, a breakfast consisting of even one egg and a slice of bread often causes gastric disturbances which prove fatal. So do not be too generous at first, Mrs. Samuel. We shall do as you direct, Doctor. My wife, we will take Johan to our home. When the child, after a few days, had regained some of his strength, they sent a little boy to a Dutch school with Samuel, Junior. Elevens of one hundred and thirty-two, twelve-twelves of one hundred and forty-four. Why, Johan, that's marvelous. In so short a time to be able to speak our language so well. Why, I do believe you're a little Dutch boy at heart. I am not a Dutch boy. I'm a Mofje. A little Mof. Who called you a little Mof? These children. They shouldn't call you by that name. If I knock, teacher, it is the Dutch name for the Germans, is it not? Yes, but will you see, Johan, it's not... it's not exactly a flattering term. That I do not care. I'm proud of it. I am a little Mof. They are... they are just plain Dutchmen. In his new home, Johan was not exactly spoiled with unessential tidbits. For sugar and sweets cost money. And the good Dutch Calvinists are greatly opposed to the idea of wasting harder and pennies upon the luxuries of life. This frugality went so far in the Samuel household that the mother and father allowed themselves only three spoonfuls of sugar each day. Keeping the precious sweet in the silver sugar bowl. Which then in turn was locked in a strong wooden box. The key of which was placed underneath the family Bible. All of which now brings us to the next chapter of our little story. Wife. Yes, Samuel. Come here, please. Yes? Wife, look. The sugar! Yes. It isn't possible and yet it's happened. Someone has taken the key and helped himself to the contents of the sugar bowl. But who? Who could it be? It could not have been our own son or our little daughter. A god-feeling children never had this stolen sugar. It must be Johan. Oh no, Samuel. He couldn't have. He wouldn't. We shall find out. Call him to me. You sent for me, my hair? Yes, my boy. Tell me, did you steal sugar? I want you to be honest for you are confessing not only to me but also to your god. Yeah, my hair. Why? Why did you steal the sugar? Because I was hungry and wanted sugar. Why did you not ask me or your mother for it? I don't know, my hair. You are not afraid of us? No, my hair. Was it the sinful wickedness of your character that made you commit this sin? I did not think, my hair, that it was a sin. I took only a little. In the eyes of God it did not matter whether you took much a little. It is written in the Holy Bible. Thou shalt not steal. Fortunately, my boy, you have not sinned against the next commandment which tells you not to bear false witness. You have not lied but have confessed the truth. Therefore I shall be lenient with you. But you shall not leave this house before you have copied these verses from our Bible a hundred fold. A hundred fold, my hair. But that will take a very long time and this afternoon the boys and girls are going for a picnic. May I not go visit them here, Samuel? You have heard what I have told you. I am not only supposed to look after your physical well-being but for the moment at least your immortal soul has been entrusted to my care. After death, peace and quiet returned to the Samuel household. But a month later it became apparent once more that someone was helping himself to the contents of the sugar in the locked up bowl. And this time Samuel decided to act with greater circumspection than before. So he hid himself in the living room till all the households seemed to be asleep. And then with his own eyes he saw Johann commit the awful crime right before his eyes. But Samuel didn't let Johann know he had been observed until the next morning. Johann, answer me truthfully. Did you once more sin against one of God's holy commandments and steal what did not belong to you? No, my hair. I did not. Johann, did you steal the sugar? No, my hair. Johann, you lie. No, my hair. I speak the truth. Johann, I saw you myself. No, my hair. Johann, sit down. Well, I'll read you another of God's holy commandments. Listen. Thou shalt not bear false witness. Do you understand that? Do you? Thou shalt not bear false witness. I did not do it. And who then may have done it? How should I know? Why don't you ask your son? He lives in this house too. Johann, it stands, read. Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor. I caught you in the act. I saw you steal the sugar. And now you bear false witness against your own foster brother. God would never forgive me if I spared you now. Come here to me. No, I... But get away from me, you sinful boy. Poor little boy. How could you be such a brute? Look what has happened. He's hit his head against the door frame where he fell. It is what he deserved. No, the boy did wrong. But that was no reason to kill him as I think you have done. In that case, he will go forth to meet his lord with a clear conscience. A bit of water will bring him too soon enough. After that, he can go to school. That little Johann didn't go to school that day. Now, instead, he must up his clothes. He dirtied his chubby face. He tore his collar open. He combed his hair in such a way that the bump on his head showed clearly. And then he took himself to the town hall where he searched until he found the burglar master's office. When he was assured that he was outside the right door, he burst out crying so pitifully it would have broken the hardest heart. And the burglar master in great alarm sent it once for the chief of police. In between them, they tried to soothe the battered youngster. Oh, there, there, my boy. You mustn't cry like that. You burglar master. Yes? Do you not recognize the little fellow? It is the little nut who has been staying at the Samuel's, Your Honor. Look what heavens it is. He looks as though he'd been beaten within an inch of his life. This is terrible, Chief. Terrible. This may have the makings of an international incident. That is true. All foster parents were warned that under no circumstances were they to use corporal punishment upon these little German refugees. Oh, what are we to do? Oh, there, there, little boy. Here is a quarter for you. Thank you, my dear. Oh, do not cry, so tell me what happened to you. It is my foster father, Samuel. He treats me badly. He will not give me enough to eat. Oh, now, my boy, that can hardly be true. For me, you look well taken care of. But he beat me. He beat me. He said I stole his sugar and I did not. That's better. Now listen to me, my boy. I promise you that it will never happen again during your stay at Neustadt. So let's forget all about it, shall we? Yes, Your Honor. Whatever you say, Your Honor. That's the idea. Here. Here's another quarter to buy yourself chocolate. Oh, thank you, my dear. Now you run home and be a good boy and do not mention this to anybody. Not to anybody, promise? Yes, Your Honor. I thank Your Honor for his kindness and I promise you, Your Honor, that I will never mention this to anyone. Ever. The big ones is lots of chocolate. The Burkermaster just now gave me two quarters to make me forget about the turbo beating my hair. Samuel gave me. Oh, my goodness. See? There is where he struck me on the head and all over my body I am black and blue and I am so lame I can hardly walk. Oh, my. Did you hear? He beat the little moth within an inch of his life. Well, it seems the boy was beaten for refusing to take part in some religious hocus-pocus that Samuel goes in for. It's old Samuel's religious bigotry. That's what it is. I hear he's into the boy's spine. He'll be a bedridden invalid for life. That despotic old man. Somebody ought to do something about it. Yes, it became a very famous case. There were pictures in the town paper, resolutions in the town council, and old Samuel, poor old Samuel, was partially on the road and poor old Samuel was partially ostracized. But he, in his quiet way, pretended not to notice. Then all was quiet again, and on the appointed day, Johann along with all the other little refugees, he climbed aboard the train. They all went back to Germany, fat little versions of the starving children who had arrived in Neustadt a month before. But all the Samuel family heard from their little Johann the postcard they received when he returned home. A card that carried his brief message. I am so grateful that you can be sure I shall never forget anything. You're loving Johann. Well, the years passed by. Old Samuel's wife died. The old man was quite alone. He tended to what little business remained to him, and he read his Bible between times. And then one day, the door of his shop opened and in came a blond young giant. The young giant walked to old Samuel and threw both his arms around him. Lieberpapa, Lieberpapa! Yeah? My boy, my boy, it is good to see you and looking so fine and prosperous too. No longer will we be able to call you our little Johann. But I still am your little Johann. Nothing has changed, Lieberpapa. I love you just as much as ever. And what brings you here so unexpectedly, business? Not at all. I have a splendid job and our wonderful new Germany we all have jobs. But I have worked so hard that my employer insisted on my taking a short furlough. I mean a little holiday. And I thought, why not do now what I've always wanted to do? Visit my dear old home in Neustadt, where I was so happy as a child. They had thought my boy does you credit and I hope you will stay with us. Tell me, where is my little sister? Oh, she's married and lives in Breskens just across the skelter. Oh, and my brother? He's with the army doing his year service. That's interesting. Where is he stationed? In Bergen-Apsum. You remember the town where the railroad leaves the mainland? How wonderful. Then I can visit him. It's not necessary, Johann. He comes home every Sunday. Oh, but that's not enough. I loved him dearly. I must go to Bergen-Apsum and look him up. That might not be so easy, Johann. You see, they've been rather strict with foreigners and there's been all this talk of war. Oh, but you forget mine, Liebervader. I am not really a foreigner. At heart I am still your own little Dutch boy. I speak the language fluently. So much so that in the train everybody took me for a Dutchman. And now, Lieberpapa, do you want me to really enjoy my holiday? Of course, my boy. Of course. What can I do for you? Well, I want you to go up and pay several visits to my foster brother. At least I'd like to go at the army camp. And I want to take some pictures of the dear old countryside which I remember so fondly. So I shall... Well, I'll need a bicycle and a good camera. And then I shall like to use your basement as a dark room to develop my snapshots. Of course, my boy. Of course. Ah, my Liebervader, you are wonderful. Yes, I shall have such a worthwhile vacation and I shall be more indebted to you than you will ever know. Well, I'm sure you can guess at the rest but even so we'll continue a little longer. Eight days later a strange Dutchman appeared at Samuel's picture frame shop. Ah, that is unfortunate. He left suddenly last night. He didn't even have time to say goodbye to me. But he did leave me a note thanking me for making his holiday a success. Ah, just what I was afraid of. He got away with pictures of bridges, roads, army encampments, airfields, everything. I do not understand. Your foster son, her Samuel, is a German spy in the bay of the general staff of the German army. My dear God, protect this boy. Grant that he may see how wicked his heart is. I have tried to love him as my own son, dear heavenly father. I implore thee, if possible, bring him to a realization of the fate that awaits him unless he changes his ways. Amen. Warsaw, the phony war is over. Germany turns to the west. Holland is on the alert. The good queen stands firm on the ramparts of her realm. Our ministers counsel the most careful neutrality. Holland is worried. Holland is very worried. My maker, Samuel, heard this broadcast of the Fuhrer and he believed it. He went upstairs and humbly thanked his God for the fact that his son was still safe, his soldier's son. He didn't know that at that very moment Samuel, Jr. was lying dead with a bullet through his heart. The last of a half a dozen men who had died trying to defend the dyke that led from the mainland to Zeeland. He didn't know that his son and his mates had been shot in the back by a company of German soldiers dressed in Dutch uniforms. The German soldiers who knew the Dutch language well because years before, they had been children of charity who were saved from the grave by the big-hearted fathers and mothers of these very men they now murdered. Jochen, my dear foster son, and a sergeant too, my son. How dare you! You are speaking to your conqueror, you Dutch swine! You don't expect me to forget the time you nearly beat me to death, do you? You are under arrest, you old tham singing Dutchman! You dare to try to murder an innocent German child, do you? Your answer to German justice! But Samuel was to learn that even German justice can sometimes be temperate, though never with mercy. Yes, sir. Sit down, Samuel. Be at your ease. Sit down, my dear. Yes, yes, sit down. I'm going to surprise you more than that, Samuel. I'm going to tell you this. You are going to be a free man. I see that staggers you. And well, it might. The charge against you is very serious. German children are sacred and must be protected. Now, as in the past and in the future. Especially when those children have grown into loyal party members. Since I have set forth in my deposition, my near, I thrashed little Johann for lying to me. Yes, yes, yes. I know. I read all the evidence. And I've come to the conclusion that he deserved it. But you must remember this. Sergeant Johann sits well with the party High Command. So much so that he's been spying on me, his superior officer. That is why I've had him transferred to the Polish front before I called your case. And he is no longer here when you start? No, he's not. He'll never see Holland or you again if I have my way. So that brings me to my point. The whole affair happened many years ago. There are no witnesses today who will remember it. You are an old man and old people are... they all have to forget. So suppose you pretend you've forgotten what happened, eh? But I have not forgotten my near, the captain. Now, here I have a slip of paper and it reads... let me read it to you. The opponent, under oath, declares that the incident of his attack on the German child entrusted to his care never took place. Now you sign this Samuel and it'll be the sergeant's word against yours. Here you are. Now here's the fountain pen. Just sign it and you can walk out of here, free man. Sorry, my near, the captain. But I could not do that. I punished the boy for bearing false witness. I could not now bear false witness myself, merely to save my life. What? But listen to reason, you old fool. You, you hopeless old idiot. Do you know what it means if you don't sign? Do you realize what our laws are? Do you realize that a foreigner who was, dared to lift a hand against the German child will be shot? Must be shot? Yes, my near, the captain. Well then, then sign. I cannot, my near. I cannot bear false witness. Not even to save your life? It stands writ. Thou shalt not bear false witness. It stands writ, stands writ. Nevertheless, my near, it so stands writ. And then that is your last word? It is, my near. God knows I did my best. I would like to shake hands with you, Samuel. Gladly, my near. No, your heart feelings? None at all, none at all, my near. You are merely doing your duty, and I pray that God will forgive you, as I hope he will forgive me for doing mine. Goodbye, Samuels. An hour later, old Samuel the Framemaker must stood up against the wall of the prison yard of the city of Neustadt, and he was shot to death. Words at war has presented tonight Hendrick Willem von Lawn's The Ninth Commandment, one of ten short novels of Hitler's War Against the Moral Code, written by ten world-famous authors and published in the volume called The Ten Commandments. Our script was prepared by Richard Madonna, and Hendrick Willem von Lawn appeared as the storyteller. Others in the cast were Raymond E. Johnson as Mr. Samuel, Elizabeth Morgan as Mrs. Samuel, and Nicholas played Johann as a child. Dayton Allen was Johann the young man. The music was arranged and played by William A. Meader, and the entire production was directed by Anton Leder. Next week, Words at War will present They Shall Inherit the Earth by Otto Zoff. Another in this series of war book adaptations brought to you in cooperation with the Council on Books in Wartime by the National Broadcasting Company in cooperation with the independent radio stations affiliated with the NBC network. This is the National Broadcasting Company.