Grantville Gazette.Volume 22 Page 18

  "Now, about this young minister of yours, I must come with you sometime and meet this man."

  Late January 1634, Grantville, State of Thuringia, United States of Europe

  John Grover found himself whistling as he rode his horse away from the station that evening.

  Pesky little song, I just can't get it out of my head, he thought. But, I always did like "Will the Circle Be Unbroken?"

  That had been last Saturday night's featured song on the Ole Timey Radio Hour. If the mail received so far this week were any barometer, it would be as big of a hit as the first show's "Silent Night." Fischer and his bunch were really tuned into the market. Since they went on the air, mail to the station had more than doubled and that didn't count the mail directly to the show itself. Requests for more broadsides on how to build better crystal sets, requests for parts, requests for more commodity prices on the morning farm reports, it just went on and on. In fact, there didn't seem to be a category of station programming that didn't have more feedback and suggestions for improvement.

  He turned a corner. All this time on the air and we've only had one broadcast tube burn out. Way below Gayle's initial estimate but really close to what Art Berry had predicted if we would follow his advice about how to operate them, which we did. All in all, things are good. If that isn't enough to have me whistling a happy tune, there are the rest of the projects that GE is working on.

  ***

  "… Then Chief Dan Frost pulled out his guns and shot the evil horsemen as they galloped down the street toward him. All the townspeople, maybe some of your parents even, were up on the rooftops shooting at them until they were either dead or decided to give up.

  "Then they all hopped into their trucks and sped down to the school house to help out Jeff, Julie and Dr. Nichols and the others who had been holding off the other band of Croats all by themselves. And that's how Grantville fought off the Great Croat Raid."

  "So children, remember that in a democracy, everyone has to respect each others rights and stand up to defend them together. Now let us pray…"

  In the barracks of the Yellow Regiment, one of the troopers threw a boot at the wall. "Again he did it, Swen! You and I both were there at that damned schoolhouse and this Fischer didn't even mention the part we or Captain Gars played."

  "You're too sensitive, Henrik. It is just a story told to children. He doesn't mean anything by it."

  "But, he's never given any credit to the part we're playing in fighting this war on any of his shows. No credit at all. I think we should say something to Lieutenant Ivarsson."

  Chapter Twelve

  February 1634, Jena, State of Thuringia, United States of Europe

  Der Kronz was very pleased with himself and the results of this little trip to Jena. Add up all the new six-month ad buys and this was by far his best visit to this town yet. With the increased listenership, no one had even blinked at the latest rate increase. Sticking the folder containing this particular ad contract into his very thickly filled satchel was especially satisfying.

  "So, Mordechai, what is it with the 'Marc'? Isn't the name your mother gave you good enough for you now?"

  Marc grimaced. Cousins! Who could live with them? "I told you, Isaac. It's a perfectly normal and modern name for Jews in the twentieth century." Marc responded, "A very good name for dealing with all the up-timers around these days, and the Germans too for that matter."

  "Leave your cousin alone, Isaac! If Mordechai wants to be called Mordy or Mortimer or Marc or whatever else, it's his business as long as he's still looking for a good Jewish girl to settle down with and have kids." Marc had hoped to avoid that particular topic this trip, so to his way of thinking Rachael's defense was a double-edged sword.

  Marc was about to reply, when the door bell jingled as several burly, heavily dressed men walked in with grim expressions on their faces.

  "Good morning, gentlemen," Isaac said. "How may I help you?"

  "You can give us back our father's money that you stole for one thing, Jew." The man in the middle with the long blond beard snapped. "Franz Holstein. You and your dirty Jew usury ruined him."

  Isaac should have known that Franz Holstein would cause him trouble. Nothing but hate in his eyes every time he came into Isaac's door with his payment. Even when though Isaac regularly forgave him for being a few days late, never once did a thank you come out of his lips. But Isaac had been startled at the news of Holstein's suicide on Christmas night, the Lutheran Christmas just past.

  Isaac replied cautiously, "I heard about your father. I'm very sorry, but I assure you his unfortunate death had nothing to do with the loan. I offered to forgive him the last quarters interest and put him on a new payment…"

  "Shut up, you Goddamned lying Jew." The man on the left slammed the palm of his hand down on the counter top. "Martin Luther was right! He called it. All of you are just poisoned, envenomed worms who should be expelled for all time. Well, this is the day, thief! We're here to take back all the money you stole from good Christians, just as Luther instructed."

  All three men whipped out their down-time, single shot pistols and aimed them at Isaac and Marc.

  Isaac raised his hands above his head as he slowly backed away from the counter. The pistols these men were brandishing were only accurate at a very close range. His chances were better further away.

  "Gentlemen, please! Calm down! There's no need to do anything rash," Isaac began, using his gentlest tone, "Very well. You shall have your father's money. There is no need for bloodshed. Rachael, go to the back and bring out all the money we received from Mr. Holstein. Bring the accounting book as well, so these gentlemen can see for themselves it's all there."

  Rachael, hands still raised, started backing toward the door to the back room.

  The blond, bearded brother barked, "Stop, you Jew whore! My brother told you. All your money! Franz, go with the bitch. Make sure they have nothing left."

  The third brother, evidently the youngest, tried to vault over the counter. His right boot landed awkwardly on the side of a stool behind the counter, tipping it over and losing his balance.

  His pistol discharged. The loud sound rumbled through the small office as its shot burrowed it's way into a ceiling joist, startling the other brothers who responded by jerking the triggers of their pistols.

  At the sound of the first shot, Marc raised his satchel to protect himself as Rachael screamed and dived for the open doorway behind her. While Franz struggled to regain his feet, the other brothers were at a loss as to what they should do next. Isaac heard one of the bullets buzz past his right ear, and quickly reached for the small of his back where he carried his modern Walther PPK/S pistol.

  "Freeze, Holsteins!" Isaac he flipped off the safety and, using the two handed grip he had been taught, pointed the weapon at the nearest, now frozen, brother.

  The front door crashed open, ringing its bell madly. "Committee of Correspondence! Lower your weapons and surrender!"

  ***

  "Is everyone okay, Marc?" John Grover was still stunned at the close call that his sales manager had just relayed.

  Marc nodded. He'd just arrived back in Grantville, following the aborted robbery attempt. Naturally, he'd first hurried to the station to turn in his contracts before retreating to his home for a very long and very hot bath to relax his tense muscles.

  When he walked into the station, Maria Kurger and Fischer were finishing up double-checking the week's mail receipts with Helga Armbruster and John Grover. He collapsed in the nearest chair and blurted out the entire story.

  "My God!" Fischer called out, "They quoted Martin Luther? Marc, I'm so sorry. So many things that man did that were so good, then just three years before his death a hateful publication like that."

  In January 1543, in a spasm of emotion, Martin Luther had written his pamphlet, "On the Jews and Their Lies," a virulent and impassioned denunciation of Jews that spewed forth Luther's premise that Jews couldn't be counted on to ever convert to Christ
ianity. It charged that all their belongings had been stolen from Christian families by the use of lies and usurious lending practices prohibited to good Christians. His proposed solution included that their synagogues and schools be set on fire, prayer books destroyed, rabbis forbidden to preach, homes razed, and property and money confiscated. Luther argued that Jews should be shown no mercy or kindness, have no legal protection, and should all be drafted to forced labor or expelled for all time. Four centuries later, the Nazis used quotations from this pamphlet to justify the Final Solution.

  The prevailing view among historians after World War II was that Luther's expressions of anti-Jewish sentiment had been a persistent influence in the centuries since the Reformation. A minority, before Grantville had arrived in this time to find out the truth, believed that Luther's anti-Jewish writings were largely ignored after the sixteenth century, before being rediscovered by anti-Semites in the twentieth. They argued that even the banishments of Jews in some German states were no more common than similar banishments of Christian denominations during the Post Reformation period. The Ring of Fire had proved that minority right. Unfortunately for Marc and his family, not right enough.

  Fischer went over and placed his hand on Marc's shoulder. "My friend, my elder brother in the faith of the One God, I promise you I shall do something about this. You have my word."

  Marc just nodded and opened his satchel, preparing to turn his paperwork over to Helga. Looking closely at it for the first time since the incident, he tensed noticeably. There, just under the flap, was a small round hole. As he pulled out the folders within, a small round piece of lead fell out and rolled across the floor.

  ***

  "What a wonderful performance Sister Jennifer gave tonight, my friends! And now, it's just about time for us to leave you again until next week. But my heart is heavy with a message that I need to share with you." Fischer paused while he decided which was the best inflection to use in delivering the message he had worked out in his head the previous afternoon.

  "Friends, if there is one thing that we've all learned from Grantville, it's that it's the little things that make a difference in our lives. It's the little things, like adding legumes to the crop rotation. It's the little things, like using standard-sized pallets to more quickly ship goods to market. It's the little things!

  "Little things like the printed thoughts and the works of great men yet unborn that have been brought back to us from that other future. If you're looking for the blessings of God, it's the little things!"

  Now Fischer moved closer to the mike as he delivered the money line, "Yes, and God says, it's the little things that make the difference in our lives as well. The little things, like loving your neighbors and honoring God instead of worrying how you think others honor Him. Don't you know that Jesus taught us God is faithful in all things, even in the little things?

  "Once He makes a covenant, He lives by it for eternity. What's more, he expects us to live by every little covenant we make as well."

  By now, Fischer clearly understood the influence he was having on the unseen radio listener out there. He could almost see each listener nodding their head, understanding and following along with the pacing and the logic that Fischer was employing.

  "But sometimes, even the greatest men made little mistakes. I want to talk about a little mistake that a great man made that we now understand thanks to our friends from the future.

  "I've consulted with pastors and elders of every major branch of the Protestant faith who have come back to our time through the Ring of Fire on this. I have consulted with the up-time Lutherans such as Herr Lambert, who is known to you at the Leahy Medical Center, and Herr Koch, who is known to you from the mine. They all tell me that in the future all the Lutherans, from the Lutheran churches of Bavaria and Austria, to the Missouri Synod and Evangelical Lutheran Church in America have issued statements repudiating this one mistake of Reverend Luther, while continuing to honor the caring and positive statements and actions toward Jews that had been taken by Luther throughout his long life up till then.

  "My friends, this week I remind you of your duty to follow Martin Luther's lead throughout most of his life towards our elder brothers in the faith of the One God and to respect them as fellow citizens of our new nation."

  As Fischer's "elder brothers" remarks finally came to their logical, yet emotionally powerful, end the night's closing song welled up in the background.

  Chapter Thirteen

  "Don't worry, mein Liebling. I'll stay safe." Hans Kurger kissed his wife Maria and hugged her tightly before swinging his duffle bag over his shoulder and stepping up to board the passenger train to Magdeburg. The Grantville Terminal was bustling with people. He turned to give a final goodbye to all the friends who had gathered to give him a send off to the war. "Praise God that He's given me such good friends as you. May He keep us all safe until we see one another again!"

  "Amen, Brother!" "Halleluiah!" "God bless you too, Hans!" A chorus of responses responded to Hans' blessing. Maria fought to hold back her tears. Pete Enriquez stood behind Maria and placed his hands gently on her shoulders while Susannah Becker held her hand. Behind them, the crowd from the church and other friends of the Kurgers stood trying to show confident smiles, but feeling the anguish of knowing that a loved one was going to war and might not come back.

  Hans had explained to Reverends Chalker and Fischer why he had decided to join the army for this year's campaign. After Chalker had proclaimed Hans fit to take his vows to the ministry, Chalker had asked him what mission did he feel called to perform. "Brothers, God has given me so much since Maria and I came to Grantville. But Magdeburg is still our hometown and with Maria safe here with all of you, I feel that I am being called to help defend it once again.

  "Besides," he continued, "It is time that I got on with spreading the Word with my deeds as well. After this war is finally over, having served as a chaplain, I'll be in a much better position to bring new souls to Christ." He grinned. "Which we cannot doubt that even some members of the Committees of Correspondence need."

  He climbed the remaining steps to the main aisle and found a window seat about midway down the old converted school bus. The seat was next to a patch in the body. From the shape of it, it had probably been put there to repair damage caused by the Croat raiders as they tried to get past the bus barricade to the high school almost two years ago. While the tires of so many of those school buses ruined, several had been enlisted to furnish passenger service for the newly completed rail line to Magdeburg. In case the bus was needed for off-rail transport along the line, several stops had a set of jacks on the siding track and a set of tires so the rail wheels could be swapped out if necessary.

  With his final passenger now on board, the driver pulled the lever closing the door, started his engine, and slowly pulled away from the new downtown Grantville station. Behind, he towed three down-time built cargo trail cars and a flatbed, which carried some sort of vehicle that was covered with a green tarp. A heavily bundled, uniformed guard rode on top of each rail car, cradling their SRG rifles in their arms and a shotgun strapped across their backs to protect the train along the journey to the temporary end of the rail at Eisleben.

  As the train disappeared around the bend, Fischer turned to Chalker, who was seated in his wheelchair being hovered over by Georg Fleitner. "Well, Brother Chalker, our first missionary has been dispatched."

  Chalker nodded, rubbing his swollen legs. Still solemnly looking down the now empty tracks, he observed, "Praise the Lord, Brother Fischer. The Holy Ghost has chosen well."

  "Amen to that, brothers!" Pete chimed in. "You did give him the other copy for Terrell. Didn't you, Fischer?"

  Fischer nodded. The copy Pete referred to was the book the church had just published, "A Pentecostal Commentary and Concordance" by Reverend John Chalker as translated to German by Reverend Dieter Fischer. Of the initial press run of one thousand, Chalker had reserved the first thirteen copies for himself and w
hat he liked to call his new apostles. These would be the first twelve ministers to spread the Pentecostal Word to the ends of this new world. Fischer had insisted that Hans, as the newest ordained minister in the faith, should receive the first copy to take with him. The other copy Hans was taking with him was destined for Terrell Nemeth, who had also accepted the call to take up the ministry.

  This was the book that Chalker and Fischer had worked on so long and hard since Fischer's arrival in Grantville. With Chalker continuing to conduct his Bible studies as his strength would allow, Fischer scribbled down his notes. Then, he carefully translated them into the common dialect that he and Chalker had selected to best reflect the common Germans to whom they were reaching out.

  Meanwhile, a committee of down-timer members had tackled the job of translating the concordance from the up-time Bible that Chalker had brought through the Ring of Fire with him. Since Chalker also added personal notes and struck passages that didn't reflect his beliefs, this was also finely tuned to his faith.

  The finished book was filled with the loving humor and keen insight into the human condition Chalker had developed in his years as a country preacher back up-time and now here in the seventeenth century. Wonderful stories, all tied to specific verses of the Bible, all designed to guide the reader into letting go and allowing the Holy Ghost in their own heart to take control of their life.

  Nothing quite like this book had existed in this world. Unknown to the Pentecostal ministers, of the remainder that had been put on sale; a Jesuit priest in town had purchased the next dozen and shipped eleven back to Rome. Others were already finding their way to various Imperial cities, electorates, and principalities throughout the Germanies, Paris, Vienna, Denmark, and even Madrid. All in all, the book was about to be read by all the finest people. None of whom were likely candidates for conversion.