The Shadow of His Wings

This is an excerpt from my favorite book, "The Shadow of His Wings."  It's the autobiography of Fr. Gereon Goldmann, a German seminarian drafted into the S.S. in WWII:

     Finally, one of them asked if I were a "black" man or a "brown" one - with the black standing for the priests and the brown for the Nazis.  I could hardly keep a straight face as I firmly replied, "I am a brown man."
     This surprised them.  "When did you become a member?" they asked, meaning, of course, a member of the party.
     I answered that I joined the browns in 1936.
     "Where?"
     "In the monastery of the Franciscans in Fulda.  They have worn brown habits for six hundred years, far longer, you will agree, than the other browns have been in existence."
     The result was an uproar of fury and laughter.  I knew, of course, and so did my companions, that this sort of impudence could get me in trouble; but my politics and my faith were in deep conflict with the goals of the Nazis, and to remain silent in the midst of such hatred was more than I could stand.  I really do not believe that I was more courageous than my comrades - simply more outspoken by nature, and perhaps a little more foolhardy!
     Reprisals were not long in coming.  First thing the next morning, during drill, the young officers who commanded our group shouted, "Where are the priests?"
     No one moved.  We did not feel that we must answer that question, since none of us was in actuality a priest.
     Then he cried out, "Let the priests step forward!"  We did not budge.
     Finally, one of the men who heard us the night before pointed to the two of us.  The officer bellowed, "Didn't you hear me say the priests should step forward?"
     In a loud voice, I said, "I am not a priest!  I am a student of theology.  Applying the term 'priest' to me is an insult to the Catholic Church and our Christian nation."  All were silent.
     The young lieutenant, younger even than I, turned white and screamed to me and the other seminarian who had been pointed out to him: "Up a tree - quick, march!  Promptly, tongues in cheek, we obeyed the command and climbed the nearest tree.  We found comfortable perches on handy cross branches and peered down.  Somehow our expressions did not seem to the lieutenant to be suitable; we were not contrite but triumphant, and so once again he gave a command: "Sing a hymn!"
     With all the dignity at our command, considering our perch, we loudly sang Te Deum - in Latin of Course. [Listen to Te Deum here and read English lyrics here.  Beautiful hymn]  The poor lieutenant understood only his army German and roared, "What was that?  I ordered you to sing a church song!"
     "But, lieutenant," I replied loudly, so that the others, who were standing around showing various emotions at this spectacle, could hear, "that was a church song.  We are sorry that you so not understand it.  But, of course, the language of the church is Latin, or Greek, or Hebrew.  Those who do not understand these languages cannot, unfortunately, understand the songs of the church."
     Laughter echoed along the entire front ranks drawn up beneath us.  The young officer was made to look ridiculous  and, pressing our advantage, we began again to sing the Te Deum.
     When the lieutenant yelled, "Stop! Descend!" we pretended that we didn't hear him but remained in our tree, still singing, the sonorous and beautiful music rolling out across the parade ground.  Fortunately, we both had good lungs.
     When we finally came down, he began his attempt at revenge, which included ever ridiculous or difficult command he could come up with.  While trying to put us through our paces and exhaust and show us up at the same time, he succeeded only in appearing even more ridiculous, for our year in the camps had made us hard and strong.  We took to the army drill as if we were made of iron.
     At last, when we had had enough, we followed his command to run east into the forest by running so fast and so far that we lost the sound of his voice.  At the end of two hours, we had plunged completely through the forest, laughing all the while of the lieutenant's misfortune in having us for recruits.  We surmised, correctly, that eventually they would have to come and search for us.  We sat idly on the edge of the road at the other side of the forest, and, sure enough, after a while an auto came along.
     When we were publically scolded for "not using our heads and realizing we should have stopped at some point", we reminded him that we had been told again and again as recruits, "Leave the thinking to the officers or to the horses; they have bigger heads."

Y'all should really buy and read the book.