In one little town, St. Nick is always American

Editor’s note: The Center Square is republishing this piece by columnist William Haupt III. It initially appeared on Dec. 24, 2018.

It was the night before Christmas in the small Luxembourg town of Wiltz, as World War II paused one day. Throughout the town, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. But no stockings were hung by the chimney with care. Because of the war, the children had no hopes St. Nicholas would be there that Christmas.
As the children lay restlessly huddled in their beds, there were no sugarplum fairies dancing in their heads. The only thing within their heads was the continual sounds of the non-stop Nazi war machine instead. As they drifted off to sleep, they prayed for one gift on the next morrow’s Christmas Day: That Saint Nicholas would deliver peace and make all wars – forever – go far away.
Millions of battlefront children were victimized during World War II. They endured starvation, rationing, gas mask shortages, abuse and molestation while living with strangers and enemies they did not trust.
Children accounted for 10% of the deaths during World War II The physical and emotional impact on battlefield children robbed them of their childhood. They only remember huddling in safe places to escape the bombing, the stench of the dead in the streets and the fear of being left all alone as they ran from one shelter to another. They never knew if they’d have food the next day, and who in their family would be the next to die. Each day was a living hell and they wondered why:
The small town of Wiltz, Luxembourg, had been occupied by Germans for four years and was the object of brutal reprisals. Resisters were executed or sent to concentration camps. This hell on earth took a sabbatical in September 1944 before the town’s liberation. The impoverished people had nothing to celebrate during the German occupation, especially Christmas.
But for a short while, that would change when the 112th Regiment of the Pennsylvania National Guard was sent there to heal their battle-ridden bodies and bury their dead. They welcomed this opportunity after suffering heavy casualties during the battle of Huertgen Forest in Germany.
As Cpl. Richard Brookins peered into the dim lights of the village, he saw dead plants on balconies in the ruins of demolished homes. There were remnants of store signs and street markers dotted with temporary food carts in the town square. But there was nary a sign of Christmas anywhere.
Yet this town had celebrated every year with a St. Nicholas Day parade. Corporal Harry Stutz, a friend of Brookins’, turned to him and remarked: “Hey Dick! I think we should give this town a Christmas party, on St. Nicholas Day.”
Brookins agreed. “Yes, let’s make it happen. The children look so sad and it’s Christmas time!”
For centuries, they celebrated on Dec. 5 on the eve of St. Nicholas Day, when a man dressed as St. Nick pranced through town giving the children treats. But they had not done this for five years and many kids had never seen St. Nick. With a little divine intervention, they persuaded Father Wolffe to lend them his cassock, cape, and miter hat. They fashioned a beard out of rope. Soldiers donated candy and the cooks baked cakes. But they had a big problem. Who was tall enough to wear the cassock? By default, Cpl. Richard Brookins got the honor.
Women and children along with men from the 28th Division lined the streets. One played songs on a guitar as children sang and danced. As the jeep arrived, the children’s faces glowed as bright as the star of Bethlehem! The American St. Nicholas greeted each child in broken German and dished out the tasty rations the soldiers provided. When they returned to the convent, Mother Superior thanked Saint Nicholas: “The children are very happy. They will remember this as long as we all shall live.”
Everyone in Luxembourg celebrates St. Nicholas Day, but Wiltz’s St. Nicolas is an American. Each year, someone is chosen to be “American Saint Nicholas.” And he goes through the town greeting children and giving treats. The celebration ends before mass at the convent. Brookins returned in 1977 and 2009 to be their GI St. Nick again. At 92 in 2014, he was St. Nick on the 70th anniversary of the GIs sharing their love with the terror-stricken, war-torn children of Wiltz.