“Travel with God,” Liahona, Oct. 2024.
Latter-day Saint Voices
Travel with God
“Halt!” the soldier shouted, pointing a large rifle straight at my father.
Illustration by Michael J. Bingham
After World War II, my parents wanted to join the Saints in America. But first they had to escape with their five children from East Germany to West Germany.
My father, Walter, went by himself to determine where it was safest to cross the border. He traveled light but felt prompted to take his violin with him. An accomplished violinist, he had a spiritual impression that his violin would somehow aid him in his journey.
In February 1949, Dad took a train to a town still many miles from the border. After arriving, he ducked out of town, taking a path that led him into a wintry forest. Anyone caught heading toward the West German border was under suspicion of escaping and would be arrested.
Along the way, Dad saw another man trying to escape to West Germany. They decided to travel as a pair. Four watchful eyes would be better than two.
They proceeded cautiously as they passed a lookout tower. Suddenly, from behind a bush, a young Russian soldier jumped out and shouted, “Halt!”
My father and his new friend froze in horror as the soldier pointed a large rifle at them. The soldier said they were under arrest.
Slowly, my dad’s new friend opened his suitcase, revealing several fine food items. He motioned to the soldier that he could have them if he would let them go, but the soldier would not budge.
In broken Russian, my father told the soldier he loved Russian folk music. He pointed to his violin case and said he would like to play for him.
Dad took out his violin and started to play a sentimental Russian melody. After a short time, he saw tears forming in the young man’s eyes. When Dad finished the tune, the soldier asked him if he knew other Russian melodies.
Dad then played another melody. When he finished, the soldier was weeping. Hoisting his gun back onto his shoulder, the soldier said in Russian, “Travel with God.” Then he let both men continue their escape to the West.
My father soon returned safely to East Germany, thankful for inspiration that had led to his protection. Three years later, he escaped with his family by traveling to East Berlin and crossing the border there into West Berlin.