The uncertainty of our destination was beginning to fray the nerves of the men in hatch No. 2. Another night in the hold had passed without mishap to the ship. The promise of a new day of grace was given us with the first faint glimmer of daylight finding its way down into the hold and there revealing quite a number of men already filling the limited space around the ladder leading up to fresh air. Only one man at a time had permission to leave the hold during the night. In the morning the officer on the bridge decided when it was safe to turn us all loose. We had been duly informed that all rules must be implicitly obeyed lest there should be any unfortunate accident. An armed guard was pacing back and forth all night on the iron deck above us.

"Which way are we heading this morning?" was the question directed to a man who had just returned to the hold from an early visit on deck.

"Still pointing her nose to the North Pole, and it is plenty chilly up there this morning," was his answer. It was going on seventeen days we had kept the same course, so a change would be news.

Now and then an impatient muttering was heard from some one in the crowded stairway about this useless prolongation of the long night confinement. Daylight was steadily pushing the dark shadows of night farther into the less accessible corners of the hold. Finally the officer in charge on the bridge shouted to the weary guard on the foredeck that the "gefangene" were now permitted on top.

There was a rush up the stairway and a scramble for the four or five galvanized buckets. Others hurried to the forecastle where they could get their cigarettes lit at an electric contrivance rigged up for that purpose, matches being on the "verboten" list. A few made for the cold shower bath, which had been such a boon to us in the warmer climate. A German sailor stood by the tub of fresh water and measured out to each man his allotted one liter of water for his daily ablution, shave, and sponge bath. Those who failed to get a pail, and most of them did, had to get their water in their enameled soup bowl. The inherent sense of sanitary necessity had to be greatly subdued.

May 13 was a regular day for us on the North Atlantic, except that this day we had a brand new rumor adrift among us. The news had originated on the women's side of the ship that we were to change course at noon. Surprisingly enough that rumor prove be true. At 12 o'clock we turned east.

We had hoped against all fears that we would not have to pass the British blockade of the European continent on a German ship. We knew now that the promises of the long days passed were not true. It became increasingly evident that our destination would be an occupied French port. The horrible reality of another sea battle as one-sided as the one we lived to witness on the Zamzam was not difficult to visualize. In fact it seemed more probable than improbable. Captain Jaeger had promised not to resist a British warship. In case of an encounter he would signal the information that he carried 300 noncombatants on his ship. We, however, felt that this promise could not be rated much higher than some of the other empty promises we had seen so confidently disregarded. We had seen him turn his ship around and flee on several occasions whenever the smoke from another vessel appeared over the horizon.

The unanswered questions in our minds were: How long would he attempt to get away in case of a pursuit? Would he stop before his ship was seriously crippled? He had also assured us that the British would never take his ship. He could blow it up by throwing a switch on the bridge. His temperament seemed in perfect agreement with that type of action. We had seen sailors put up a strong barricade around the bridge. Bales of hemp, heavy boards, and sand bags had been piled up to protect the men on the bridge. All such preparation did not indicate that the Germans intended to give up without a struggle.

The very careful lookout the Germans kept over the sea from the day we fell into their hands really merited our admiration. An even more diligent watch was now kept over the distant horizon all around us. Whatever happened they were not likely to be caught unawares.

We were told from now until we would land we must sleep fully dressed and with the life jacket always near at hand. It was not difficult to obey this command because by this time we were in an area of the Atlantic where it was cold and we needed all the clothes we could muster for our protection. The life jacket was a precious possession which no one despised. It served nicely as a pillow at night and as a soft seat when we were on deck. Each individual had his or her number stenciled on the life jacket so it would be difficult to claim your neighbor's jacket in case your own was lost.

The most likely attack at night would be by a submarine launching a torpedo at us, and that, we were assured, would come without warning. The German and Italian submarines would be informed of our whereabouts, but the officers could not promise anything about the actions of the British submarines. We were also instructed how to take cover in case a bombing plane came over us. According to Captain Jaeger a plane pilot of either side who would see a group of women and children on the decks would hold his fire, but occasionally there is an idiot in one of those planes who seems to delight in opening up on just such a target. If the captain had any personal experience with such an individual he did not say, but his advice to take cover was well received. A simple set of signals were explained to us whereby we might know what particular type of danger we were confronting.

Lifeboat drills became more frequent, and the captain took particular care that we should get out of the hold within one minute. Two extra-wide rope ladders were hung down into the hold to facilitate a hasty evacuation. We were told repeatedly that there would not be much time to clear out in case of an attack upon us. We could easily imagine what would happen in case a torpedo hit our hold. The only two lifeboats which the Germans saw fit to salvage from the Zamzam wrecks were repainted and hoisted up on special scaffolds with rope and tackles so that they could be launched by man power should the electric power of the ship fail us at the critical moment. The captain himself supervised all lifeboat drills, and he went the entire round each time.

Permission was now granted us to keep two of our own group as guards on the hatch at night. They were to assist in opening the hatch in case of need and to help get the men out. The Germans exercised meticulous care, but whatever they did it was always done with the same supreme confidence.

(1) Mr. Chas. Murphy of Fortune magazine. Capt. Jaeger (center) of the Dresden. Capt. Smith of the Zamzam.	(2) Carl Norberg, Lawrence Danielson and Robert Buyse aboard the Dresden. Photos by V. Eugene Johnson.
Mealtime on the Dresden. Tin cups used for all purposes. Photos by V. Eugene Johnson

These were days and long nights of anxious care to those of us in particular who had loved ones in another part of the ship. We knew we could not expect to be of any assistance to them in case we should be subjected to another shelling by a warship. We had no means of appealing to any men for help. True, we were citizens of a mighty nation, but we could not get word to the men in authority of that nation. The prison ship carried a complete wireless equipment, but it was not placed at our disposal. But we did send many and frequent wireless messages to Him who still has all authority in heaven and on earth. Not even the military power in whose hands we were could stop us from sending those messages. We had the spiritual satisfaction of throwing all our problems before the Lord in prayer. We met as a group twice each day, and we noticed that a few who had not previously attended our prayer sessions came reverently and sat in with us as we waited upon the Lord. On one of the last Sundays on this prison ship at morning worship we heard a message from one of the missionaries on the topic: "Have Faith in God." How appropriate and how comforting it is to be reminded that we have a living Lord who looks after his own even in the dark valley.

"The darkness deepens; Lord with me abide!
When other helpers fail, and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, O abide with me."

He received and answered our messages. One of the business men said after we arrived in France: "Captain Jaeger may attribute his success in bringing us safely to port to his luck, but as for me I am convinced the Lord answered the prayers of the missionaries." Yes, we also saw the hand of the Lord in his dealings with us. We had not been on our course eastward long before we ran into stormy weather. We had not prayed for a storm. No, on the other hand, we were much perturbed as we beheld the rising waves and the bitterly cold wind with the rain and the mist narrowing down our little world. How hard it would be to take to the lifeboats in such a turbulent sea! Later we learned that it would have been nigh impossible for a submarine to operate against us in such a sea. The visibility for efficient airplane scouting was at its worst in such misty weather. The Lord most likely had something to do about it.

The captain now ceased coming down to the foredeck for his customary chats. He was busy on the bridge, where he spent most of his time, day and night. There may have been another reason for his nonappearance among us. He could not well have escaped understanding our keen disappointment over his apparent intention of taking us through the dangerous waters to a belligerent port in Europe contrary to his promises. He always justified his position by stating that he had to obey the orders of his superiors whenever one of his promises were obviously disregarded. We had our suspicions now that there had never been any change in the orders. Those false promises of being set ashore on a neutral island or on a neutral ship were given out simply to keep us in better humor on the long trip to France. In war human life is not the most important item. Military objectives and advantages of position come first. To get the Dresden to a home port safely was the prime objective in this case. The nuisance of 332 civilians on board was something to be tolerated, but could under no circumstances take on such importance as to swerve them from their objective.

A number of passengers still clung to the hope that we would be put off at a Portuguese or Spanish port. It made a great difference to our friends of other nationalities, such as the Canadians, British, Greeks, Belgians, and Egyptians, whether we went to a German-occupied port or to a neutral port. It was either freedom or the lot of a prisoner for the duration of the war. Even to us Americans it seemed much more desirable to be placed in a neutral port. Such good fortune was not to be expected.

On Sunday, May 18, we received the news from the captain that land would be sighted within twenty-four hours. The long dreadful suspense was actually drawing to a close! We had not seen land since we left Brazil on April 10. Many of us had never been on water that long before, and none of us had ever tried it under such trying conditions. What a comfortable feeling it would be to see green grass, trees, and even bare rocks once more. At one o'clock that afternoon the ship turned around and started retracing its steps. This time, however, we could see no sign of any approaching ship. To us there was no visible explanation for this strange action. True to human curiosity such a happening could not be left without a plausible explanation. The wiser members of our party did not delay long in offering a workable hypothesis. The ship had traveled faster than had been expected of it, and as this would upset the schedule of our arrival, we had to waste the time at sea.

It would be very dangerous to stay still in this particular part of the ocean, so a retracing of our course would be more feasible. This assumption was not universally accepted. Whatever the reason for this strange maneuver the ship was turned back to its eastern course after two hours of waywardness, and everyone felt much better.

Shortly after sunset that same day while getting our last fill of fresh air on deck before the inevitable order to get down into the hold, we noticed a faint flicker of light on the horizon ahead from our starboard side. After examining it more intently we decided it must be a signal of some kind. It came at regular intervals and from the very same spot. Could it possibly be a lighthouse! More people were called to verify our hopes and before long the entire group was staring at this strange phenomena. The captain on the bridge, who had previously been notified about the lighthouse by his lookout in the crow's nest, called down to us and said: "What is all the excitement about below? Did I not tell you we would see land within twenty-four hours?" He was implying we should have harbored no doubts about his veracity.

The feeling we experienced in seeing this lighthouse is indescribable. We asked the captain if the women, who had already been locked up for the night, could not be notified about this happy turn of events. This was granted, and all of us rested with much less anxiety than had been our lot for many nights. Prayers of thanksgiving and praise ascended to the Almighty from this prison ship that night.

On May 19, 1941, which some have designated as Black Monday because they learned that day that the Zamzam had been sunk, its passengers and crew, who had been rescued from a watery grave, were still aboard the prison ship. It was just then completing the long voyage from Capetown, and was running the British blockade. Were you one of the thousands of friends who prayed for the safety of both passengers and crew? God answered your prayer. In the evening we saw the lights of Finisterre, and the next day we were escorted by three destroyers to St. Jean-de-Luz.

Seventy long days had passed since we bade farewell to loved ones in Minneapolis and vicinity. After two trying months of sea travel we were eager to set our feet on land. Our few possessions were excitedly packed before daylight so that we could be free to view the picturesque French town at which we were to disembark. Perhaps we embarrassed the German sailors of three mine sweepers by watching their attempt to get the grounded Dresden off a sand bar.

The attractive seaside resort of St. Jean-de-Luz seemed entirely deserted in the early gray morning. Later we saw a company of German soldiers march to their barracks. Then a truck rumbled heavily along the highway. We wanted to know more about this place, so we tried to secure information from two of the passengers who had visited the town. As usual we were kept in ignorance of our next move, so we could make no plans except to trust the Lord moment by moment that He would direct us to the place of His choosing. The children talked about the castles they would build in the sand, the flowers they would pluck, and about the races they would run as soon as their feet touched land.

The joy of landing was, however, to be mingled with sorrow. About midafternoon the passengers traveling on American passports were shocked to learn that all other members of the passengers and crew would be kept on the Dresden and taken to Bordeaux. We pleaded with the officers, but we could not secure the release of our dear friends. Our hearts sorrowed as we saw husbands separated from their wives. We could scarcely say good-by to our dear co-workers in the Lord and other friends. The children could not understand why only twenty-eight of their group had permission to leave the Dresden.

"Why do they have to remain prisoners?" my older son asked.

We descended the gangplank, waved a sad farewell, and were quickly transported to the docks. Behind the large, imposing hotels, which stood like silent sentinels along the deserted seaside, we found hundreds of sad-faced French people living under the iron heel of their oppressors. We were wards of the German Navy and guests of the German Red Cross. The Dresden had arrived one day sooner than expected, which necessitated a rush to empty three hotels of their occupants, in order that our group of one hundred and seventeen could be kept together as one prison group. We rode in buses from St. Jean-de-Luz via Bayonne to Biarritz.

The once gay playground of kings and princes of Europe did not present a happy picture. For two days we were confined to our hotels and the street just outside. Though we found a good air-raid shelter near our hotel, we did not have to make use of it. Food was scarce even in that favored corner of Europe. About eleven o'clock that first evening we were called to supper. A complete blackout was observed, so we groped our way down seven flights of steps, then across a narrow street to the dining hail, where we feasted on bread, butter, sausage, and coffee. It was good to sit together again as a family at a small table, and to praise the Lord for His mercy to the children of men. The children were almost asleep before we groped through the rain and blackness up to our hotel again.

The German authorities warned us against conversing with the townspeople. The first time I opened our New Testament in the hotel room my eye was caught by the command in Acts 18. 9-10, "Be not afraid, but speak and hold not thy peace: for I am with thee, and no man shall set on thee to harm thee: for I have much people in this city." Knowing that we ought to obey God rather than men, I decided to comfort others with the same word of God by which we had been comforted as God placed opportunities before us.

More than once I saw hungry children and old people rummage in the garbage cans behind the hotels in which the German soldiers were living. I saw no wasted scraps in any other section. There was the usual scarcity of men so noticeable to strangers in war-torn countries. Hundreds of older adults and children wore mourning bands. There were no smiling faces and no songs among the French people. A spirit of sadness pervaded the land. No public meetings were advertised. All the news was censored, as well as the mail.

Only the conquerors sang as they marched with their hobnailed shoes or boots resounding through the streets. The natural beauty with which God clothes His creation healed our wounded hearts. After many weary hours spent in interviewing the authorities, we were finally granted exit visas to Spain and Portugal. We had been interviewed by the Gestapo police, who posed as journalists. Our movements had been carefully watched, and our every word carefully weighed. Freedom held a new meaning for us.

Again we made ready to move and packed our little cases carefully. Our joy was greatly decreased when we learned that twenty-two American ambulance boys, in the noncombatant service, were to remain prisoners. The French people sent warmest greetings to America as we departed in buses. We were escorted to Spanish soil by representatives of the United States embassy in Madrid. Truly a wonderful Memorial Day came to us Americans on May 30, when we were released from German domination, and turned our eyes toward the freedom and joy which awaited us in our beloved homeland.

On Friday evening, May 30, Velura and I came back from a walk to a French cemetery in Biarritz. The others had good news for us.

"Be ready before nine in the morning," they said, "for the Germans are sending buses to take us to the Spanish border."

We were thrilled at their words. Soon we would be free! We would be able to send messages to our dear ones. We would, no doubt, soon be on our way to Africa.

Hendaye, France, was reached on Saturday morning after a short bus ride. From there we traveled by train to San Sebastian, Spain. Large open Red Cross trucks met us at the depot. Reporters and photographers swarmed around us. For the first time in months we heard news of the world.

The beautiful hotel, the Maria Christina, was to be our home that first afternoon of freedom. As we rode down the San Sebastian streets we stared with nearly unbelieving eyes at all we saw. Here we were in Spain, we who had started for Africa.

The entire fourth floor of the hotel had been allowed for our use. Such elegance after prison ships and France! Dinner was served in the spacious dining room, soup, fish, meat, potatoes, custard. Oh, so good! Already the white enamel bowls and tin cups seemed remote.

Resting and sightseeing occupied the afternoon, and in the early evening we boarded the train for Lisbon. Cars had been reserved for us all and everything was done for our comfort. During the night, coaches were changed, and when all were settled again, several of us had no places to sit. The young assistant from the consul's office who was traveling with us and helping in every possible way took us up to a coach far ahead in the train. We passed through car after car, packed with Spanish people, sitting as closely as they could on the seats and on the floor, standing up in the aisles and on the platforms. Everywhere they were. We were told that many people in Spain carry their few belongings on their backs and go this way from place to place. Third-class railroad tickets are cheap, and they ride from one town to another, begging or working a few days and then going on again.

Our Saturday supper and Sunday breakfast had been packed in individual lunch boxes by the good friends in San Sebastian. The whole-wheat rolls, which we ate with such relish, had been baked in the kitchen of the American ambassador's home. The flour had been left from a shipment by the American Red Cross to Spain during the Civil War there.

As we went through one town after the other, nestled there on the hillsides, we saw children and older people at the depots, touching their mouths and then holding their empty hands out to us in a most beseeching way. Their thin faces and bodies showed plainly the lack of food. We had been warned against spending in Spain. They did not need American money, but they did need every bit of food they had.

Poor Spain! The damage done by bombing in their late conflict had not yet been repaired. They seemed to lack both funds and spirit for this needed reconstruction.

On and up we went into the night. It was good to see lighted windows in the homes we passed, good to be away from the blackouts in occupied France.

Sunday, June first. Pentecost Day.

We spent it in a crowded compartment of a Spanish train. We read again the glorious birthday story of the Christian Church and asked God to fill us with His Spirit that we might be used to His honor.

Our noon meal was eaten at a railroad station restaurant. The wood-burning locomotive made remarkably good time, and soon we were in Portugal.

New sights kept us at the windows. Olive orchards, vineyards, herds of bulls, carefully terraced plots (not a bit of precious land could be wasted), groups of staring people at the stations-it was all so fascinatingly strange.

At about eight o'clock the train slowed down, and we were at the little town of Mangualde. So many were at the station, it seemed that the entire community had turned out to greet the Americans. And such a greeting!

A long table had been placed on the platform. It was laden with roses, strawberries, cherries, sponge cakes, and just as the train stopped the last dishes were filled with steaming soup. We could hardly believe our eyes. This was true Portuguese hospitality and what a good time they had serving us. The townspeople stood as close as they dared, little folks, big folks, their smiles of welcome told us all they could not say in words.

Such delicious food, course after course-but what was best of all, their joy at being able to do this for us. Pentecost Day, 1941. Who of us will ever forget that day!

After we had eaten, Mrs. Muir, a missionary from Portuguese East Africa, thanked them in Portuguese for all of us, and then there were shouts of "Long live America!" and "Long live Portugal!" In too short a time we had to go back to the train, and as it pulled slowly away we waved our thanks and smiled through grateful tears to these new, kind friends.

The next morning we reached Lisbon and rode in buses to Sintra, a gemlike little place twenty miles outside the capital city.

Now we were guests of the American Red Cross. We were given comfortable rooms in hotels, and such delicious food! White bread, potatoes, fruit, as much of everything as we could eat. Roses blooming in riotous profusion everywhere. Windows were lighted at night and seemed to speak quietly of peace and security. There was singing, there was laughter, there was beauty on every hand. Lovely little Portugal!

Every effort was made to secure passage from Lisbon to Africa. One day a cable from our State Department ordered the Zamzam survivors to return to America. When the Government orders, American citizens obey. We were keenly disappointed. We had wanted so much to go to Africa.

It was very unlikely that we would ever be in Portugal again, so we tried to see as much as we possibly could.

We tramped up to the Pena Palace where the king spent his last night in Portugal, and explored the Moorish fortifications built to protect the palace from the invaders. At the exquisitely beautiful Monserrate Gardens we found trees and plants from every part of the world. We picked cork off trees, that surpassed our wildest dreams. In ultra-modern Estaril, the Portuguese exposition and the president's home were most interesting sights.

One Monday we visited a Roman Catholic Academy, a private school and a public school. At the latter we were surprised to see the children stand and salute us. Then they sang, with spirit and strength. Each child pays a tuition fee of about eight cents per week. We saw some outside who lacked the needed coins, and their indifference at not being able to get in was a strange contrast to our American children who come running to school, all eager to get there on time.

Lisbon, the largest open port in Europe, was a busy cosmopolitan city. To see outlying parts of it, we would ride street cars to the end of the line and then back again. When we passed their elaborate building projects, it was easy to imagine ourselves in America.

We had heard of the Lisbon Art Gallery and were dismayed to find it closed the afternoon we went to visit. But when the director heard that we were Americans from the ill-fated Zamzam, the museum was opened and Velura and I enjoyed to the full our privately escorted tour.

On Sunday, June 8, we had Sunday school on the veranda of one of the hotels, and after that a service in the living room. As a group of missionaries we had had many services together. This was our last, for on Tuesday, the twenty-six "unattached ones" were to go to Lisbon to board a ship for America.

That afternoon our Augustana Synod "Nineteen" had our last coffee together and strengthened with pleasant fellowship the hands of love which had been made strong through common suffering and still stronger as we rejoiced over God's wonderful deliverance. And now, when the time of separation was near, it was good to remember that hitherto the Lord had helped us and no matter what the future held we could be assured of the guidance of our Saviour, who had promised to be with us always.

In these lines there is a note of expectancy and joy to the adventurer who has saturated and satisfied himself with the glories of the old world, but to the missionary whose face is set toward Africa and whose heart is bent upon the "business of the King," they have a different ring. They were orders from the State Department that defeated our purpose. There was no alternative. We must obey.

With heavy hearts we began to fold and pack the few belongings we had saved. As we worked our minds questioned.

Why had our plans for service come to naught?

Were we not within God's will?

Had we not prayed enough?

Why should the evil one have the victory when those in Africa are still waiting to hear the Word of Life?

We knelt to pray about it, and as we waited in His presence the answer came. "My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are my ways your ways . . . . For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts higher than your thoughts" (Isaiah 55. 9). So this turning homeward was not defeat. It only meant that God had a different plan for us. We were comforted, and I could now say with Paul, "Forgetting the things which are behind, and stretching forward to the things that are before, I press on toward the goal." The Lord would yet lead us into paths of service.

This He did much sooner than I had expected, for we were to find a mission field on the boat that was to carry us home.

Passage had been arranged for us by the American consul. We knew but little about it. The boat was one on a Portuguese line. It was clean and white. The decks were teeming with people. We deposited our luggage quickly in the cabin and returned to the deck to get a last look at beautiful Lisbon harbor. The white buildings with red-tiled roofs made a pleasant picture under the warm June sun. The waterfront below is one of the busiest in all Europe. Boats from Sweden, America, and Spain had dropped anchor there. Not for long did I interest myself in the landscape, for, beautiful though it was, people are the crown of God's creation. I turned to see them. They were well-dressed people with interesting, intelligent faces. I liked them. Their manners were charming, almost courtly. Their emotions were unrestrained. Tears flowed freely as they bade good-by to the loved ones on the shore. I wondered about them.

Who were they? Why was the parting so difficult? Why don't the visitors get off? Can't they see we are beginning to move?

But they were not getting off! They were all passengers bound for America. What a crowd! Seven hundred where three hundred should have been! We were soon to grow so fond of them that we all agreed, "There's not one too many." They were Jewish refugees who had broken all ties with the past and had set their faces toward America. Unhappy faces they were. Deep sorrow was written there. My heart grew light. Here was the mission field I had asked the Lord to lead me to. Oh, it was not a field white unto harvest, but certainly one fertile for the sowing.

I resolved to serve Jesus among them, to live for Him and to speak of Him.

Then the evil one spoke, "They will resent attention from a Gentile. You will antagonize them if you speak your Saviour's name. Presenting the gospel to the Jews is a very specialized service; only those who have studied the psychology of the Hebrew would dare approach them. You can not do this."

It is so the devil works.

But it is Jesus who said, "Will ye hide your light under a bushel?" "All day long have I held out my hands to a disobedient and gainsaying people."

They needed Jesus! They must hear His loving invitation, "Come unto me." I would confess Him.

At first our only service was to be the epistle written in flesh and blood. How they blossomed to sincere love and kindly interest. They are not so different from others after all. One dear little black-eyed Jewess accepted a small attention in almost breathless surprise, and expressed her appreciation, saying, "Oh, it's so good to be treated like a human being again." I'm sure it was. Dogs even know better treatment.

The evening meal was pleasant. I do not know what we ate, but we were getting acquainted with our people. We commented upon them as they entered the dining room.

"Here is Rachael."

The one in blue is Rachael.

"The thin little fellow with the eager eyes is Benjamin."

And at the table beyond sat a venerable old man with a long beard. He was Isaac.

I loved them all. They were His own.

(1) Mrs. C. Einar Norberg, Miss Esther Olson, Mrs. V. Eugene Johnson, and Miss Velura Kinnan at Sintra, Portugal.	(2) Mrs. Johnson at the castle in Sintra, Portugal.	(3) Arrival at Maria Kristina Hotel, San Sebastian, Spain. Photos by V. Eugene Johnson.

(1) Unmarried women embarking from Lisbon on Portuguese ship Monzinho, June 10, 1941.	(2) All aboard for Lisbon and America from Sintra, Portugal. Photos by V. Eugene Johnson.

The days that followed were busy days. One hundred and sixteen of the passengers were little children. Their fathers were either in concentration camps or had died there. They were being transported to America to be parcelled out to relatives, to institutions, or to homes which desired them. The woman who had them in charge was an efficient little Russian Jewess, who had just secured her master's degree from Paris. We asked her if we might help her. In rather broken English she replied, "Oh, will you help? The children want to learn 'The Star Spangled Banner,' and then it would be fine if you would help them with their English." Of course we would help! The hour for the meeting was set. There were no late comers. When we reached the salon, these little would-be Americans had packed the place. When Miss Olson sat down at the piano, they cheered enthusiastically. They liked good music and listened with pleasure as Esther struck the majestic chords of our national anthem. They began to struggle with the difficult words. But Jews have a will to work. They copied the words. They worked between rehearsals. They wanted to be good Americans in this "land of the free and home of the brave." Then came the English classes. Their manners were pleasing, and their eagerness to learn made them interesting pupils. But we wanted to tell them of Jesus. They would learn "The Star Spangled Banner" once they reached our shores. There would be many who would teach them to speak English, but who would tell them of Jesus? We longed to claim them for Him.

On the following day we asked the Madam, "May we tell the children of our Saviour." She consented readily, but said, "They won't understand enough English for that." With many of them that was true, but then we took them by guile. I called a missionary friend who told the story very simply in German. We were overjoyed at their response. These children have been so neglected that they have not been taught to hate Jesus or to close their hearts to the gospel. I repeat, it was "a field fertile for the sowing."

But it was not always to be so easy. Their traditional religion had failed to satisfy. Many were skeptics.

One day the testimony was made to a newspaper correspondent and his wife. They listened patiently and kindly, but replied, "Yes, but we are not religious people."

One day Miss Olson spoke to a class of adults. The discussion concerned American money. She pointed out the inscription, "In God We Trust," and then spoke of her faith "built on nothing less than Jesus' blood and righteousness." After class a brilliant doctor, an exile from Paris, approached her saying, "I admire your zeal for your religion, but for myself I want none of it. When I reach America, I only ask that I may have a strong body, a clear mind, and a good job."

Esther told him she hoped he might have all these good gifts in America, and then in a simple, clear way told him how he might possess "The Pearl of Great Price," too. But the prince of this world had closed his heart, and like the rich, young ruler he went sadly away. Pray for him.

One afternoon a young Jew showed us the tickets he must present in order to buy food. They were small, yellow tickets, each marked with a red J to indicate that the customer was Jewish. He explained that Jews could make purchases only between the hours of four and five o'clock in the afternoon. Should he enter a minute before the hour or stay a minute afterward, he was subject to punishment. Fresh fruits, fresh vegetables, milk, chocolates, and sweets were never sold to persons whose tickets bore the red J. Many were the hardships inflicted by this ordinance. There were no Kosher markets, and many of the most orthodox Jews had not eaten meat for five or six years.

I had often been fascinated by a dark-skinned young Jewess. Her features were finely chiseled. She would have been beautiful had it not been for lines of bitterness around her mouth. I wondered what her story might be. One day she told me with pride, "I am an artist." When she saw my interest, she said, "Come, and see my things." Truly she was an artist! God had richly blessed her. She came from a family of artists. Her home held many art treasures. With tears in her eyes she told how young Nazis had entered their home, broken the glass from their windows, and then began to tear the pictures from the wall. When they approached the portrait of her grandmother, she rushed at them and pleaded, "That is a work of art. We can never replace it. It has been in our family for years!"

They were not to be stopped. They destroyed the picture before her eyes, saying, "Why should I save it? It's only an old picture of a Jew."

Little Wolfgang was seven years old. He loved music like the great man for whom he was named. He played selections from the old masters with some ability and much assurance. One day he asked us to meet his mother. She told of taking the child to the dentist in Lisbon. The dentist in fun said to little Wolfgang, "Let me hear how you say 'Heil Hitler.'" Wolfgang stood tall, clicked his heels and said with pride, "I am a Hebrew. Heil Roosevelt!"

When their Sabbath day arrived, I attended their evening service. The rabbi was a serious young man from Luxemburg. The service was long and ritualistic. It seemed a tiresome service to even the most devout. I was amazed at how few attended. The salon was not large, yet there was room to spare. We respected their day of rest and invited them to attend our morning devotion. To our surprise about twenty-five came inside. Others stood at the windows. I am sure the Jewish women observed with a feeling akin to envy the part our girls took in the devotion. During their service the women stood without the glass door. We had no pastor on our boat, so there could be no liturgy or sermon, but there was a Bible study, a few personal testimonies and much singing of hymns of praise.

We thank God for everyone who came. There was, of course, the language barrier, but they could not but feel that there was joy and hope and satisfaction in the hearts of the believers in Jesus.

One Hebrew said, "Oh, these American girls are always happy. They are always having a good time." A missionary explained, "They are truly happy because they have Jesus in their hearts." How we praise God and give Him all the glory for the one Hebrew woman who invited Jesus into her heart while on this voyage! Faithfully pray for her!

One day at the children's hour we had the children do exercises to the rhythm of the music. It somehow did not go off well and became very funny. The children laughed, and even the serious, anxious faces of their elders broke into smiles and then turned to hearty laughter. Afterward one dear Hebrew mother said, "It's so good you make us laugh. I have not laughed for many years." She believed America would be a good land where they could laugh and be happy and forget the cares of the Old World.

There was much talk of citizenship among the newfound friends. Many were homesick for their native land. They had left loved ones behind. Others looked forward eagerly to America, and spoke hopefully of the time when they would become citizens.

On our second night out a baby boy was born. One of the Jewess women inquired next day, "What nationality do you think the baby will be?" I remembered, "His people were Jews. They were citizens of Germany. He was born on a Portuguese boat and they were sailing to America."

I told her quite honestly, "I did not know what his nationality would be."

She replied eagerly, "Oh, I'm sure his mother would like for him to be an American."

How much they were expecting of America! How eagerly they looked forward to citizenship in our land! How they anticipated the day of our arrival! The decks were lined with dark forms at 8:80 in the morning. They were searching in the dusk for the first lights of New York City. My heart yearned over them as I looked upon their expectant faces. I knew so well how soon American citizenship, good though that is, would fail to completely satisfy. Oh, that they might know that citizenship which is in heaven where Jesus is King and where peace is real and is eternal! Oh, that they might know liberty in Christ Jesus and claim the abundant life He came to bring! But how shall they hear without a teacher?

Now the dim shadows of New York's magnificent skyline came into full view. It was time to say good-by. It was hard to leave these dear children of Israel. They are strangers in a strange land. They are as sheep having no shepherd.

Oh, Augustana Synod, let us pray for the peace of Jerusalem and so experience the truth of His promise, "They shall prosper that bless thee." Let us work in the field that has been thrust into our very midst. It means something, does it not, when a Jewish woman will put her arms about a Gentile girl and say, "Pray for my husband"? Oh, let us not be idle while the enemy sows the tares! Let us work while it is day. Night cometh when no man can work.

In company with this party of refugees we began to disembark. Was it not good to be home? It truly gladdened our hearts to know that so soon we should see those whom we love, those who had spent anxious hours in our behalf.

We were anxious that they should see us and be assured that the Lord had truly kept watch above His own.

But stronger in my heart was the feeling of disappointment at not reaching Africa. Yet we know "He doeth all things well." His ways are past tracing out. We know, too, that though the way to Africa is closed, the way to the mercy seat is ever open. We ask that the Lord may keep us faithful in prayer for this field so dear to our hearts, knowing that "more things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of." Let us pray from the depths of our hearts, "Thy kingdom come!"

After shelling and shipwreck, and weeks on prison ship, and other long days in France and Portugal, the day at last came when the outline of lower New York's skyscrapers met their eyes. Again their eyes looked upon the Statue of Liberty, a gift from a proud land which has lost its liberty and where they but recently had been prisoners of war.

How did it feel to be safely home again?

We shall let the missionaries tell us something about their impressions at being "home again."

We reached New York on the S. S. Mouzinho, Saturday, June 21. Pastor Swanson had come all the way from Minneapolis to meet us. How good it was to see him! And he gave us money, gifts from our good friends in the Augustana Synod who love the Lord Jesus and His cause of missions. We bought clothes and other necessities. We are so grateful to all for this token of love.

The Bethlehem Church in Brooklyn had arranged a farewell service for us in March, and now in less than four months they had a lovely "Welcome Home" for us. The next noon, Wednesday, June 25, we arrived in Jamestown. So many were at the station to meet us. As they sang "Praise God from whom all blessings flow," our hearts thanked Him again.

The good ladies at First Lutheran had prepared a bountiful chicken dinner and we did enjoy it so much. That evening the First Lutheran Church was filled with friends who had cared and now rejoiced.

We had to leave early the next morning for Chicago, and from the time we reached there until we left, the members of the Austin Messiah congregation outdid themselves to welcome us. At the church that evening the choir sang "Thanks Be to God," and the whole service was just that, a great thanksgiving feast to our God and Father.

On Friday evening, Dr. P. O. Bersell and a crowded church greeted us at Messiah in Minneapolis. When we realized what the disaster had meant to him and Pastor Swanson and our Foreign Mission Board, we could only thank God again for bringing us, "Nineteen," safely home.

On Sunday evening the Gustavus Adolphus Church in St. Paul welcomed us. The choir sang "Praise to the Lord, the Almighty, the King of Creation," and truly we can do nothing else. We can praise and adore Him, even if we did not reach Africa. Some day we will understand the why of all. Let us be busy now in praying that this experience may "fall out to the furtherance of the gospel" and that we of the Augustana Synod may pray as we have never done before that the "Amen may sound from His people again," the countless numbers over all the world who will hear the gospel and adore the Lord of lords and King of kings!

A feeling of infinite hope and security was unmistakably evident in the facial expression of most of the passengers on the Serpa Pinto as we drew near to the Ambrose Lightship outside New York harbor. One of the refugees, a young professor of economics, said as he beheld the peaceful shoreline: "You Americans are simply returning home to that which is commonplace and really belongs to you, but to us this means a new life of hope and freedom, which, we have not known for years and had very nearly despaired of ever experiencing again."

After spending a beautiful Sunday on this Portuguese ship in New York harbor we were indeed happy and ready to land on Monday morning. A person can not escape noticing the many contrasts this country presents to almost any other country in the world, even in normal times. How much more apparent it was to us at this unexpected return to America. The experiences we so recently had had on the sea, on the German prison ship, and in the parts of Europe which we saw on our way back, made us more perceptive of the numerous blessings we enjoy in this country. Fear and bitter disappointment, brought on by the horrors of war, are stamped on the countenances of the people in most places where they have had direct contact with the war. Even children bear a stamp of seriousness about them which could only be produced by a chronic calamity.

We had not been in America long before we experienced the truth of the words spoken by the professor of economics on the Serpa Pinto. We had come home to friends and relatives. Dr. S. Hjalmar Swanson was at the pier to meet us. He had arranged for several meetings where we could witness of God's protecting care over us, beginning at Brooklyn, and stopping over at Jamestown and Chicago on our way back to Minneapolis. St. Paul, Duluth, Eau Claire, Center City, and many other places were visited later. Everywhere we met many friends and supporters of our mission work.

We were keenly disappointed in our failure to reach Africa. God permitted this sidetracking for some good reason. He took Moses out into the desert for a period of forty years after Moses had taken it into his own hands to right the wrongs suffered by the Israelites. We pray that we may by our experience learn patience and a willingness to submit to God's wisdom.

It was about 10 P.M. March 20. We were standing on the deck of the S. S Zamzam, watching the clearly illuminated Statue of Liberty and the fantastic lights of Manhattan fade out of view. We were on our way back to Africa. We would not again see these home shores for at least five years.

But here we are back home again! We reached the home waters Sunday, June 22. How good it seemed to see the "land of the free" once more! We had seen some of the pathos and subjection of the Frenchmen, the penury of the Spanish, and had felt the sternness of the Nazi grip.

A group of eight Zamzam survivor families were on the S. S. Serpa Pinto. All had started out for Africa with full equipment and supplies to last them four to five years. Yes, we were happy to be home, but nevertheless a bit stunned and bewildered over our shattered hopes. Our plans to return to Africa had at first prospered and grown. Just as these plans were about to mature, they were cut down. We had not reached our old homes in Africa.

God sees not only yesterday and today, but also the tomorrow. He never makes a mistake. Our plans can not take precedence over God's plan. We must let each pruning help us grow a little sweeter, a little more tender.

It did seem so good to see Rev. S. Hjalmar Swanson waiting to greet us. His words of welcome were of true cheer. Dr. Emery Ross, secretary of the Foreign Missions Conference of North America, together with his wife, was also there.

The New York Lutheran Home for Women was again thrown open to us. It was the first sense of home feeling we had had since we bade good-by to the kind friends there March 19.

A package of letters was handed us, letters of "welcome home," and full of praises to God for our deliverance. There were letters from Mother and from each of the brothers and sisters, and from other relatives and friends. What an anxious day May 19 had been for them all! Again, we paused to thank God for answered prayers. A prayer often heard among us at our prayer meetings on the prison ship was that God somehow might make our friends and loved ones at home have the comforting assurance that we were alive and well. How wonderfully God answers prayer. We had been on the prison ship thirty-two days before the folks at home even heard of our disaster. May 19 we were sailing along the uneven coastline of Spain, winding our way to St. Jean-de-Luz in occupied France, ready to land.

Relatives and friends have been so very kind to us. We have been touched by their deep concern over our welfare. Above all others, the Friend of all friends is constantly with us.

"Child of My love, fear not the unknown morrow,
Dread not the new demand life make of thee;
Thy ignorance doth hold no cause for sorrow
Since what thou knowest not is known to Me.
"One step thou seest, then go forward boldly,
One step is far enough for faith to see;
Take that, and thy next duty shall be told thee,
For step by step the Lord is leading thee."

FRANK J. EXLEY, D.D. (From "Step by Step.")

The Rainbow Dawn, continued
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