Der Musiker von Stalingrad
I first was told the story of The Musician of Stalingrad by my father, long before I had the wisdom to appreciate such a story.
As my father told it, on Christmas Eve 1942 a gaunt, unshaven landser stood up in a cold cellar packed with similar men and began to play a violin. No one knew his name, nor where he manged to find such a fragile instrument intact in the ruins of that time and place. Yet somehow he must have, and he began to play "Stiller Nacht." "Silent Night."
As the man played he began to move about the cellar past the huddled groups of men. Someone clicked off a photograph. When he reached the stairwell he stopped, bowed, then went up and out into the night.
No officer tried to stop him.
Out in the street he began to play again. Walking in slow steps, the soft strains of "Silent Night" in contrast to the stucco of small arms fire and the crump of mortars.
No sniper fired on him.
And my father said he played until the man and the song faded in the distance.
This story was reprised for me when I returned to Germany in 1972. While discussing what tall tales we had been told by our fathers about the war, I mentioned The Musician of Stalingrad to a cousin, who quickly dug into a stack of magazines and until he found the one which had recently published the same story as a Christmas feature. Set in the center of the text was a black and white photo of the Der Musiker von Stalingrad.
The article stated that scores of German survivors of Der Kessel claim to have heard "Silent Night" played that Christmas Eve on a violin, even though these men were scattered at points spread far and between. A few even claim to have seen the helmeted musician stroll by them playing, as if in a dream.
The stories as to how the photograph arrived back in Germany varied from being brought out by a one of the last of the wounded evacuated, to having been smuggled in by an escapee from the POW camps. There appeared to be no definitive answer.
One thing all survivors seemed to agree on. Not one knew the name of the man who played "Silent Night" for them that Christmas Eve, and no one saw him again after.
I was reminded of this story last week as one I had told an old friend, who seemed fascinated by it. I managed to grab some down time a work to do a hard target net search on the Musician of Stalingrad. All I could could find was the above photograph, the same one I believe I once saw in a German magazine.
I figured I would share it, and the story to it, with some new friends.
Not a leader. Not a general. Not even a name. But I think you'll agree The Musician of Stalingrad was a World War II personality that deserves mention here.





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