The Black Horizon

By Herbert Scherer

Herbert Scherer was only nine years old when Adolf Hitler took power in Germany. World War II was declared in 1939. In 1942, he was drafted into the army, after which he was shipped to the Eastern front as an infantry soldier.

Following his capture a year and a half later, he spent four and a half years in the death camps of Siberia. Herbert survived. Millions of others did not.

• • •

Writing in the simple, uncluttered fashion of a soldier’s diary, Scherer describes the death camps of Siberia, and how their captives clung to life. Dwelling on those years, he finally took pen in hand in a cathartic quest to empty past traumas onto clean white sheets of paper, thus consigning them to the past, revisited.

• • •

“My story is about what I experienced, and the fact that I attribute my survival to a higher power. I drew upon that higher power to sustain me when there was really no hope; no rescue possible.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Feb 18, 2021
• ISBN: 9781698706214

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Copyright 2021 Herbert Scherer.

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ISBN: 978-1-6987-0620-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6987-0621-4 (e)

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Preface

1928 Recognition of a Higher Power.

It was challenging to experience the horrors of the battlefield, the deprivations of war, the inhumanities dealt on a daily basis, and connect them to the undeniable graces that came to my aid throughout this six year period. My story is what I experienced, and the fact that I attribute my survival to a higher power. I drew upon that higher power to sustain me when there was really no hope; no rescue possible.

Where does such power come from? When and how did it manifest itself?

I look back to the year 1928, when I was three and a half years old. My little sister, Gertrude, was only six and a half, and had just begun to attend school. For the first time in my short lifetime, I felt lonely. My mother reassured me that Gertrude would come home by noon to play with me. I waited. Finally, she arrived at eleven o’clock. She walked in importantly. Like a star. I was curious. I wanted to know exactly what she had learned at school, whether it was mathematics, or the art of writing. But to my surprise, she replied emphatically, None of that!

She explained to me that they learned about Jesus all morning. Gertrude was attending a Catholic convent and being taught by English nuns. It all sounded so interesting. I begged her to tell me everything she could about this Jesus.

My mother sat a little away from the table, listening attentively. I stood on her left side with my elbows on her leg; Gertrude was on the other side, telling us her story. Sometimes Mama corrected her, or added something.

After Gertrude finished her story, I was silent because what I heard shocked me. I was also sad and angry. I wanted to do something about what I heard, but I did not know what I could do.

Young as I was, I saw clearly how cruel and unjust this world could be. How was it possible that people could murder Jesus, who was born so humbly and who was the Son of God!?

He, who healed so many of the sick in his lifetime had been condemned to such a death as the crucifixion. It made no sense to me.

It was at this point that I decided to go visit Jesus to bring him comfort and to tell him how much I loved Him. But that would have to wait. Dusk came. I went to bed. Waiting for sleep, I had the feeling that peace, security and warmth could only be found in my parents’ home. Outside our front door was the raw, insensitive world, waiting to hurt me. Eventually sleep came over me, as it comes so readily to a child.

After breakfast the next morning I went out to play with the other children. It was just after Easter, and mild outside. But I really did not feel like playing. Instead I walked about a kilometer to our church. A child was safe walking alone in those years.

The church appeared immense to me. It was a twotower structure made of natural beige sandstone blocks, fitted perfectly into place. As I approached, I noticed that one of the huge, solid oak doors had been left ajar. I could never have opened it by myself. Even the handle was too high for me to reach. I entered the sanctuary. There was not a soul inside. I was happy that I could be alone here.

I walked slowly toward the front, where I chose to sit on the second bench. There was an enormous crucifix hanging on the wall behind the altar. As I looked at it, my sadness was overpowering. Then I smiled with relief as I remembered my sister’s story that on Easter Jesus came out of his grave and returned to his Heavenly Father. I knew then that He could hear me and that He knew all about me.

I felt that I was in His presence; that He was giving me time to settle down and treasure the moment.

I did not say a word for a long time. I felt that his eyes were on me. But He, also, was silent.

After awhile I told Him that I came because I loved Him, and that I was sad about His sufferings. I wanted to stay, hoping that He could find a little consolation and joy in my presence. Then I thought that perhaps I should have brought Him some kind of gift. But what, after all, could a little child bring? Besides, this was the time of the great depression, and we had so little to live on. I addressed him once more, Jesus, I have nothing to give You but my love and my friendship.

There was no answer, but I felt a reassurance that He was now my friend.

Since then, I went back often, and always found that same, profound peace and gentle love waiting for me. Mark: 10,15: Truly I say unto you, whoever does not receive the Kingdom of God like a child, will by no means enter into it.

*****

A child has many doors opened by chance, and by a willingness to receive with an open mind.

One night, when I was four years old, I was transported by means of an unexpectedly meaningful dream to a place too beautiful to describe.

My first sensation was mildness, followed by a wonderful, sweet fragrance. I was in a strange place. The trees all had coloured leaves. Strangely, the sky was not blue, nor did the sun shine down upon me, but a warm light shone from a honey-colored sky. Several beings dressed in pure white robes walked slowly but steadily toward me, their arms invitingly extended. They had different hair styles and skin colors. They called to me by name, saying they were expecting me.

How could this be?

Taking me by the hand they brought me to a place where we could all sit in a circle. Their faces radiated love, calm and goodness. Physically, they appeared to be young women about twenty years of age, and their skin, hair and eyes appeared to be perfect and healthy. I felt absolutely safe and secure. Night did not fall and I was never tired.

For a moment I believed that I had died and gone to heaven. In all my joy, I forgot the real world. But the real world had not forgotten me. As quickly as the dream began, it ended.

Upon awakening I wondered what had just happened to me. I knew I was back in my room, and I knew I was alive. Within three short hours the sun would rise again, and my daily chores would resume. Reluctant to let go of the beautiful dream, I was forced to accept the reality. I cried, but not loudly enough to wake my parents sleeping in the adjacent bedroom.

What a strange dream. Yet, it was so powerful. So real!

This experience came back to me over and over again until I reached the age of nineteen. Then it never returned.

But what could be the significance of such a dream?

Matthew 11:25: At that time, Jesus said in response: I publicly praise you Father, Lord of Heaven and earth because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intellectual, yet have revealed them to babes.

*****

1929

At age fi ve my greatest fear was that someday, someone would come and prove to me that God did not exist. Could it be possible that God was only a legend, like Santa Clause?

If that should be, the world would certainly become a cold star for me. It would no longer offer security or love. Yes, if God did not exist I believed that mankind was doomed. Only He could bring a measure of dignity and justice to the world.

*****

Acknowledgement

I wish to take this opportunity to thank God for all that He has done for me throughout my life. He has helped me to accomplish my mission on earth through His love, His power, and His grace. Without Him, I could never have survived. He had His plan for me.

The song below depicts how I feel. It may also reflect how you feel.

Amazing Grace

1. Amazing grace how sweet the sound

   That saved a wretch like me!

   I once was lost, but now I am found,

   Was blind, but now I see.

2. ‘Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,

    And grace my fears relieved;

    How precious did that grace appear

    The hour I first believed!

3. The Lord has promised good to me,

    His word my hope secures;

    He will my shield and portion be

   As long as life endures.

4. Through many dangers toils and snares.

   I have already come;

   ‘Tis grace has brought me safe thus far,

   And grace will lead me home.

5. When we’ve been there ten thousand years,

   Bright shining as the sun,

   We’ve no less days to sing God’s praise

   Than when we’d fi rst begun.

John Newton, 1725-1807

Dedication

This book is dedicated to God, who, in His love, has worked many miracles to keep me alive, even though I did not expect it. Especially where survival seemed no longer possible. Also, I dedicate this work to my grandfather, who was always there in my life, supporting me, and waiting for me to come back from the torturous Siberian death camps. Unfortunately, he died three months before I returned home.

My Special Prayer

Please Lord, give me the strength to continue on the path

of my life.

Let me walk humbly in your light. I praise you, my Lord, and I declare your love and righteousness without fear.

Amen

Herbert Scherer

Table of Contents

Chapter One Germany

Chapter Two The Front Line

Chapter Three In the Trenches

Chapter Four Christmas

Chapter Five On the Move

Chapter Six Captured

Chapter Seven Hell on Earth

Chapter Eight Camp 185

Chapter Nine Train to Siberia

Chapter Ten The Barracks

Chapter Eleven Camp 2

Chapter Twelve Labour Camps

Chapter Thirteen Potato Harvest

Chapter Fourteen Garlic

Chapter Fifteen Good News

Chapter Sixteen Chosen

Chapter Seventeen Anticipation of Home

Chapter Eighteen Canada

Chapter One

Germany

1933

I was only nine years old when Adolph Hitler came to power in 1933. But children grow up quickly in hard times, and I was old enough to realize what he stood for in Germany: Might is Right.

I also realized, even with my child’s vision, that politics was a dirty and dangerous game. Political envy and conflict arose from the fact that the Western nations could not provide