The double baby shower on Saturday afternoon was a rousing success; here's the loaf I baked for the occasion- pumpkin with chocolate chips and walnuts: Our usual Sunday family dinner at the homestead was off this past weekend due to a number of Sunday School play practices. I'm only peripherally involved- making costumes- and didn't need to be in attendance, so I told my parents to come over to my place for lunch after church. I didn't have time for anything fancy after I got home Saturday evening, so just roasted chicken and baby potatoes after tossing them with some olive oil and spices. I served them with steamed broccoli and biscuits, and made a blackberry cobbler for dessert. As mentioned, the baby shower was fun, and I got to hold my new nephew for the first time: Concerts and pageants are, of course, a staple of the Christmas season and I've participated in a great many of them, one way and another, over the years. And again for many years, there's been a children's story about a church Sunday School concert run amok which I've always enjoyed, at first reading it myself as a youngster, now reading it with assorted nephews and nieces. It's one of those books which is enjoyable for all ages, especially if you've ever been involved in children's ministry in any capacity. My review of The Best Christmas Pageant Ever:
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I finally started the novel my online reading group is doing- a bit late, but what can you do? In my defense, I've been really busy, and a bunch of other group members were late getting started on it, too. But I put a good dent in it yesterday morning while I was waiting for the harvest loaf I was baking for the baby shower to come out of the oven. The Violent Bear It Away is Flannery O'Connor's second novel, written in 1960. I've never read anything by O'Connor before, and didn't know anything about this book before I started reading it, but so far it's pretty interesting. The protagonist is a fourteen year old boy named Francis Marion Tarwater who, when he was a baby, was kidnapped by his crazy great uncle who lived out in the wilderness and believed himself to be a prophet. A prophet who sells moonshine on the side. Francis never attends public school- Mason runs off a social worker and fools a truant officer into thinking Francis is simpleminded. He teaches Francis himself, intending that the lad will one day take over being the prophet- Elisha to his Elijah, as it were- although Francis, despite this upbringing, is never really sold on the idea. Then, one day, Francis' great uncle Mason dies while sitting at the breakfast table (he's 84) and, leaving him there, Francis attempts to dig a grave for him. A voice inside him is telling Francis to leave and go to the city; he knows his uncle whom he was stolen from lives there. While labouring at the grave, a black couple arrive to buy moonshine and, being told that Mason is dead, try to comfort the teen who is having none of it. He gruffly takes their jug to the still to fill it but, once there, decides to drink the moonshine himself; he gets drunk and passes out, later found there by the fellow who'd been waiting for his booze. He takes it upon himself to finish digging the grave and bury Uncle Mason while Francis is in a drunken stupor. When the boy comes to, he decides that he is, indeed, going to head for the city. Thinking that his great uncle's body is still in the shack they lived in, Francis sets fire to it and then, as it burns, heads to the main road where he hitches a ride with a traveling salesman who is driving to the city where his uncle lives. That's as far as I got yesterday... more to come later after I read more of it this week. Related Posts: So I looked at the calendar this past week and divided the amount of time we have before Christmas by the number of projects I've got to complete in that time and came up with a rather alarming result. Consequently I've dropped just about everything else and started sewing. As mentioned previously, I've got a double baby shower to attend this weekend, so made a few flannel burp cloths and will go out after work today and get some baby supplies to go with them. The burp cloths are three layers: printed flannel on one side, a contrasting solid colour flannel on the other, and a layer of cotton batting in between. Cute, useful, and with the added bonus of being a very quick sewing project. I need to bake squares or something for the shower as well, but haven't decided what yet... I don't have time to go grocery shopping before Saturday, what with one thing and another, so it'll have to be something I have the ingredients for on hand. Speaking of baking, I was down at my parents' place last Sunday and, while waiting for some late running family members to arrive, I baked tea biscuits to go with my Mum's dinner of oven BBQ chicken and potatoes. I got the biscuit recipe from my mother's Five Roses cook book; I'm a third generation user of it... as you can tell, it's seen considerable use over the years and has really stood the test of time. I used it a lot when I lived at home, and never found a recipe in it that didn't work. Well done, Five Roses! Of course, I have quite a bit of sewing to do for Christmas- I should have started long ago- and took a break between burp cloths to sew the first of a number of pillowcases I have to get done for some nephews: And one of my sisters just texted me yesterday to ask if I could sew a costume for their church's Sunday School Christmas play. I mean, you can't exactly say 'no' to that... at least I have more warning this time than I did when they needed a couple costumes for Easter. In the meantime, I haven't been getting much reading- or blogging done, but hope to get myself more organized and back on track this coming week. Related Posts:One of my sisters had her baby yesterday- a wee boy to go with the three little girls she and her husband already have. How cute is this kid? And I'm an aunt for the 29th time... it'll be 30 come January, as that's when one of my other sisters is due to have her baby. Funnily enough, she and her husband have four boys and are now having a baby girl. "I doubt if anyone of any tenderness or imagination can see the hand of a child and not be a little frightened of it. It is awful to think of the essential human energy moving so tiny a thing; it is like imagining that human nature could live in the wing of a butterfly or the leaf of a tree. When we look upon lives so human and yet so small... We feel the same kind of obligation to these creatures that a deity might feel..." -Gilbert K. Chesterton I know that many societies aren't producing replacement numbers of children anymore, but you couldn't prove it by my family- or my church family, for that matter. The nursery at our church is over crowded and overrun right now, with so many toddlers and babies that they've had to extend it into the fellowship hall with a fenced in area for the toddlers to play in. And there are more on the way, with nine of the ladies at the church pregnant... oops, seven now, because my sister and one of the others have had their babies. I'm actually going to another double baby shower at the church this Saturday... all these babies are getting expensive. There are also a large number of kids of above nursery age, which makes for a lively congregation. There's a sizeable copse of trees to one side of the church's parking lot, and generally when I arrive, there are numerous children climbing, hanging out of, and playing under them. Several of them- generally the ones hanging from the trees- are, admittedly, my nephews. Loud and chaotic? Sometimes. Vibrant and a blessing? Always. There's nothing better than congregational singing when you can hear the voices of children lifted in song, enthusiastic if not always on key, blending with the voices of adults of all ages. I'll never understand weirdos who don't like kids; they're a hoot, and I struggle to think of any occasion which they don't make more interesting, one way or another. Well, maybe funerals (I could tell you a few stories) but pretty much anything else- Christmas, weddings, etc.- are in my opinion vastly improved by the presence of children. If you don't have any in your life, I feel sorry for you. "The most extraordinary thing in the world is an ordinary man and an ordinary woman and their ordinary children." -Gilbert K. Chesterton Related Posts: For Canadians, Thanksgiving is in the rear view mirror as we motor at an ever-increasing pace towards Christmas. For Americans however Thanksgiving is directly ahead and, to any of them who may be looking for a family movie for the occasion, may I recommend You Can't Take It With You. While not specifically a Thanksgiving film, its themes certainly lend themselves to the occasion and it has the added bonus of being hysterically funny. I introduced this movie to my family years ago when I was in high school and found a battered VHS copy in a used book store (the type of hangout I frequented in my wild teen years). I didn't know anything about it at the time, but bought it because it was directed by Frank Capra and starred Jimmy Stewart. It immediately became a family favourite and preferred Thanksgiving viewing. Prospective spouses of various siblings were forced... ahem, encouraged... to watch with us as, to our way of thinking, people who don't like You Can't Take It With You are to be regarded with suspicion. We quote from it to each other all the time, and it's never not funny. It's really too bad that this movie isn't better known, although it won two Academy Awards in 1938- Best Picture and Director- when that still meant something. The play it's based on won the Pulitzer Prize, back when that still meant something, too. I've read the play- which is by George Kaufman and Moss Hart- and it's also delightful, with some characters who didn't make it into the film. One of these is an actress who Penny meets on a bus and brings home to help her write her play, not realizing that the woman is drunk. When the actress falls into a stupor, Penny innocently thinks she must have been really tired and puts her in one of the bedrooms to sleep (it off). The actress later wakes up and staggers out- right into the already uncomfortable dinner scene with the Kirbys with predictably disastrous results. It's a good read, and I'd love to see a production of it some day, but I just adore the movie; the cast is great: James Stewart, Jean Arthur, Lionel Barrymore, Ann Miller, Edward Arnold, Dub Taylor... the list goes on. And Frank Capra directs them all with his usual adept mix of heart and humour. Speaking of Lionel Barrymore, his character is really the heart of You Can't Take It With You, and it's a testament to his acting ability that you love him in this movie as much as you loathe him in It's A Wonderful Life. It's difficult to describe the absolute charm of You Can't Take It With You as a whole, that's something which has to be experienced. But here are a couple of scenes from it: And here are the links to my review of You Can't Take It With You, along with one to my review of Moss Hart's autobiography, Act I:
This past weekend was a pretty busy one. Saturday was of course Remembrance Day, and I, two of my sisters, and my parents all travelled down to the Valley to attend the service at Acadia along with another sister and her family. After the service we went to my sister's place for lunch and hung out all afternoon before heading back into town. We brought two of the young nephews with us so that they could spend some time with their cousins over the long weekend. Sunday was church of course, then off to the homestead for Sunday lunch with a variety of family members. I returned home that evening, while my two sisters took four nephews to their place for a sleepover at which, I am informed, not much sleeping was done. I joined them the next day- Monday, which was a holiday because Remembrance Day was on the weekend- for bowling, something I haven't done in ages. The game has changed a bit... you don't even have to keep score anymore: just bowl, and the number of pins you knock down immediately appears on the scoreboard. None of us are very good (I scored in the eighties) but had a lot of fun. The alley attendant helpfully informed us that we could get our scores emailed to us, but I struggle to see what the purpose of that would be. I suppose if you were a serious bowler you might want to keep track of your scores, but when you bowl on average about once every five years or so, nah. Afterwards we got the boys some lunch and then took them to the mall because the two Valley nephews wanted to ride the escalators. The malls in the Valley are small and all on one level; there aren't any escalators, so it's a bit of a novelty for them. And of course, they did do other stuff there as well. Woody the Talking Christmas Tree is back, though not "awake" yet. This year, they've bizarrely added a top hat... it's like they're trying to make him as garish as possible. I mean, at least old Woody had that retro '70's homeliness vibe going on; refurbished Woody just looks kinda strange, and the hat's not helping. After that, it was back home for the boys and sadly, yesterday it was back to work for me. But it was a good long weekend. Related Posts: Stalag 17 started out as a Broadway play which was written by Donald Bevan and Edmund Trzcinski, two men who knew a thing or two about POW camps: they had both been prisoners at the real Stalag 17-B. While incarcerated there, the two collaborated to keep up prisoner morale by running a makeshift theatre, writing and performing sketches and even putting on some plays. After the war, the two wrote the play Stalag 17, drawing heavily from their experiences as prisoners of war; it opened in 1951 and won a Tony for its director, Jose Ferrer. Incidentally, Edmund Trzcinski has a small part as one of the POWs in the film. The movie was directed by Billy Wilder, who also adapted the screenplay. While he was working on it, one of the Paramount Studio executives suggested that Wilder change the prison guards from German to Polish, in order to make the film more attractive to the burgeoning West German market. Wilder, whose mother and stepfather had both died in concentration camps, furiously refused to do so. The guards and camp commandant remained German, but the incident hastened Wilder's departure from Paramount. Speaking of camp commandant Colonel von Scherbach, he was played by director extaordinaire Otto Preminger. William Holden, who played J.J. Sefton, won an Academy Award for his performance which is rather ironic because he never wanted the role. He thought the character was too unpleasant and asked for it to be rewritten but this request was refused. He then turned down the part but was forced into it by his studio. Holden was right about Sefton being an unpleasant character; from the start he is shown to be selfish and self-serving, out for himself without concern for the other POWs. One could argue that in such a situation, it's every man for himself and he should do whatever it takes to increase his chances for survival. I don't really see it that way, however; the war is still on, and they are still soldiers, even if they are currently imprisoned. In my opinion, your fellow POWs should be regarded as brothers in arms still, whether or not you're actually armed. On a purely practical note, I should think that knowing others will have your back and will help you when you're sick or otherwise incapacitated, whether it's to rations or whatever, would actually increase your chances of survival- more so than going it alone. Sefton however, doesn't just decide to be a lone wolf; he often seems to go out of his way to antagonize his barracks mates. For example, callously wagering over the lives of two soldiers attempting an escape- and betting against them- is a sure fire method of raising the ire of the rest of the barracks, especially when the two men in question are indeed killed by the guards. As for bartering with the German guards, well, that was an actual thing that went on, and I can't say that I particularly disapprove, if it's for something which will increase chances of survival such as food, disinfectant, or soap, for example. Sefton though squanders a lot of his accumulated wealth on riotous living, bribing the guards to let him spend time in the Russian women's compound. Such a waste of resources, and an action which which is guaranteed to increase the suspicion the others already harbour about Sefton and his wheeling and dealing. We also see that Sefton is not above petty resentments and holding grudges when Lieutenant Dunbar arrives and Sefton immediately badmouths him, suggesting that he only received his rank as an officer because his family is wealthy. Whether or not this is true, Dunbar has since proven himself by taking out a Nazi train and its line, something Sefton doesn't even acknowledge because he's fixated on the fact that he was passed over while Dunbar was promoted. He blames Dunbar for this, though it seems likely to me that Sefton's character- that of a loner who places self-interest over that of the troop- was probably not considered officer material. It's also clear that Sefton has no desire to lead the men, so his anger seems to be more bruised ego than anything else. And it's always easier to place the blame for failure on outward forces rather than accepting personal responsibility. All of this makes it an interesting choice to have Sefton save the day rather than a more stereotypical heroic character. And let's be clear: Sefton hasn't suddenly become a completely reformed character because he's done the right thing and exposed the actual spy. I don't think he suddenly had a 'road to Damascus' moment, though he quite possibly may have, while recuperating from his beating, engaged some introspection as to why his fellow POWs found it so easy to believe that he would betray all of them: he's a massive jerk and everyone (except Cookie) actively dislikes him. But we shouldn't discount his anger at obviously being used by whoever the real traitor is, and his instinct for self preservation: his life is going to be a living hell if the others remain convinced he betrayed them and sent at least two to their deaths, as well as Dunbar. Though, if the men were thinking clearly and not blinded by rage, they would realize that it would be counter productive for an informant to make himself as widely despised and suspected as Sefton has, because people are unlikely to confide in him if they have any choice in the matter. Someone who gives every appearance of being likable, trustworthy and loyal is a much more successful mole. In the end, it is Sefton who figures out who it is because, besides being abrasive and self-serving, he's also smart and observant with a knack for reading people- which is why he's been so successful at fleecing the other men out of their cigarettes, etc. This has made them resent him, but also stands him in good stead in sussing out the real traitor, and working out a plan on the fly for dealing with him and saving Dunbar. The ironic fact is, some of the qualities which make Sefton unsuited to leadership would make him an excellent spy or, if the situation were reversed, mole. Stalag 17 is frequently described as a comedic suspense movie; I have to say that, in my opinion, the suspense is a lot more successful than the comedy. Especially the broad humour of "Animal" Kuzawa which frankly, I mostly just find annoying. But even his character has unsuspected depths, as we see in his interactions with Joey. Joey is one of the POWs who has some sort of brain injury; we're never told whether it's physical or mental, but he spends most of his time just sitting, staring into space, unresponsive. The loud, boisterous, rough and tumble Animal is very quiet and gentle with Joey and in fact, one of the saddest moments of the film occur between them. The men have received Christmas letters from family and Animal is reading Joey's to him. It becomes obvious that the men have been writing to Joey's parents for him, because their letter expresses relief that he is well, and how they look forward to him returning home after the war and resuming law school. This is heartbreaking because it's obvious that, even if he does make it home, there will be no resumption of his former life. Actually, the humour involving Sgt. Schulz, their barracks guard, takes on a rather sinister aspect as the film goes on. He presents himself as jovial, full of bonhomie, even as he does things- like remove their stove in midwinter as punishment- which cause the men misery. The casual cruelty combined with a pretense of genial goodwill is rather sick-making. And, of course, it is he who is leaving and retrieving messages for and from the informant... evil with a smile is no less evil and frankly, even harder to swallow than evil which doesn't pretend to be anything else. The film occasionally reminds me of The Great Escape: the tunnel under the stove, the failed escape attempt, the men working together to keep the camp guards from knowing about their plotting. Or perhaps I should say, The Great Escape reminds me of Stalag 17, since it was made first. As I said, the suspense is very well done; we are shown over the course of the film how the informant's messages are being relayed and signaled but are left in the dark as to who it is. It's very obviously not Sefton, just because he is such an obvious suspect. But of course, this leaves us with the unpalatable fact that one of these other characters whom we're getting to know and like is actually a sneaky German spy. And wondering which of these seemingly open and honest guys is actually a betrayer- could it even be Joey, feigning a brain injury? The movie keeps you guessing almost to the end. To sum up, Stalag 17 is a good movie. It's not my favourite war film by any stretch, but certainly one worth watching and one that will keep you guessing as to just who is the Nazi collaborator. Related Posts:
Stalag IXA was a POW camp near Ziegenhain, Germany during World War II. It was here that Master Sergeant Roderick Edmonds, a native of Tennessee, was sent after he was captured by German troops during the Battle of the Bulge in mid-December 1944. As it turned out, Edmonds was the highest ranking non-commissioned officer at Stalag IXA and so he became senior commander of the camp. The Nazis had a strict anti-Jew policy for their POW camps; earlier in the war captured Jewish soldiers would be separated from the other POWs and sent to extermination camps. At this late stage in the war, though, the death camps were no longer fully operational so Jewish prisoners were being sent to slave labour camps where most perished. Jewish Allied soldiers were advised to, if captured, destroy their dog tags and anything else that might identify them as being Jews. In January it was announced over the camp loudspeaker that, the following morning, only the Jewish POWs were to fall out. Roddie Edmonds knew what that meant and immediately said to his fellow prisoners, "We are not going to do that." He sent orders through the camp barracks that all of the men were to fall out in the morning, as usual. And so, early the following day, all 1275 men were out standing in front of their barracks in defiance of the Nazi order. The German camp commandant Major Siegmann, furious, stalked up to Edmonds and said, "They cannot all be Jews." Edmonds- a devout Methodist- replied, "We are all Jews here." Siegmann demanded that Edmonds order his Jewish men to step forward, to which Edmonds responded, "According to the Geneva Convention all that is required is name, rank and serial number." At this, Siegmann drew his pistol and pressed it against Roddie Edmond's head and told the 25 year old sergeant that, if he didn't order the Jews to step forward, he would shoot him in the head. Edmonds didn't waver: "If you are going to shoot, you are going to have to shoot all of us because we know who you are and you’ll be tried for war crimes when we win this war." The two men stared each other down then, after what seemed a long time, Siegmann re-holstered his gun and walked away. No Jews- and there were between 200-300 in the camp- were identified or removed. After the war was over, Roderick Edmonds returned home and quietly resumed civilian life, later fighting in the Korean War. He never told anyone about the incident, not even his own family. His son Chris, a Baptist minister, only found out about it after Edmond's death when he happened to read a newspaper article about a Jewish man (Lester Tanner) who had been one of the POWs at Stalag IXA and had related the story to Richard Nixon, mentioning that the name of the young sergeant had been Roderick Edmonds. Chris had his father's war diaries, which mentioned the incident but not his part in it, and so he contacted Tanner and then another one of the other former POWs (Paul Stern); they both had the same account of his father's brave actions. Stern said that, even 70 years later, the events of that day were burned into his memory, especially the words spoken by Edmonds to the German commander: "We are all Jews here." We are living through a particularly dark time right now when, after the worst slaughter of Jewish people since World War II, many have taken to the streets around the world to cheer on their murderers rather than console the victims. Jewish businesses, synagogues, and schools have been targeted, Jewish people physically attacked- even murdered- and once again they are being advised not to wear outward signs of their faith for their own safety. We in the west should be deeply ashamed. We should also be furiously angry, not only at the savages and moral midgets who are actively participating in these acts of evil, but at our leaders as well, who have for years actively promoted racial and cultural animus for political gain, or passively stood by and allowed it to happen. Our educational institutions are now run by amoral radicals who indoctrinate rather than educate. People who hate western- really Judeo-Christian- values have been indiscriminately and in ever increasing numbers imported into our countries, and our educators, political, and cultural elites are busily attempting to imbue the younger generations with this way of thinking: that it is better to tear down and destroy than build up and create, that there is no right and wrong, only victims and victimizers. And now the antisemitic, anti-west chickens are coming home to roost. As always, our glorious leaders have proven unequal to the occasion, Justin Trudeau bleating incontinently about "Islamophobia" while Jewish schools are shot at and a synagogue fire bombed, condemning the actual violence almost as an afterthought. He's always fighting the imaginary enemies he wishes we had instead of the ones we actually do; it's so much easier than calling out his ideological fellow travelers. However we got here, this is where and what we are now. The question is, what are we going to do about it. There's no point in looking to political leaders of any stripe; they are not going to deal with the barbarians at the gate let alone the ones within it. Obviously, damage done to society over the course of decades is not going to be reversed or repaired overnight, or even over the course of a few years. We must resolve to see it done, though, and institutions- like public schools and universities- must be abandoned if they cannot be reformed. These are long term goals, however; what do we do here and now when our fellow citizens are under attack? The obvious answer is that we must support them and stand with them, and be seen to do so. Almost everyone I know is disgusted by what is happening, but most are quietly so. It's past time for that. We must adopt the attitude of Roddie Edmonds that, in the face of these terrible events, we are all Jews now and will act accordingly. We should do this because it is the moral thing to do, but also because it is in our own best interests as well because I guarantee you, those who come for the Jews will not restrict themselves to only the Jews. The Hamas butchers killed Israeli Arabs and foreign workers with as much savagery and blood lust as they did Jews. They will not hesitate to do the same to anyone standing opposed to them, Christian or atheist, or any other religion or creed; they will eventually treat us similarly, so we might as well stand with Jews now as later. Stalag 17 is a fictional German prisoner of war camp located somewhere on the Danube during World War II. One of the camp compounds houses captured American airmen; the film focusses on the inmates of Barracks 4 and takes place in December 1944 and is narrated by one of the prisoners, Clarence "Cookie" Cook. In the opening scene, two of the prisoners are attempting to escape through a short tunnel under the barracks. As they make their way through the small space, one of the other men, J.J. Sefton, places a bet that they won't make it out successfully. Sadly, he wins the bet; the two men are gunned down by German sentries as soon as they make it under the fence. It's almost as though the Germans knew about their plan and were waiting for them. This turns out to be true, as the barracks supervisor, Feldwebel Schultz, reveals that he knows about the tunnel, hidden under their stove... he then removes their stove as punishment. Due to this as well as a number of other incidents when the Germans mysteriously know about things which occurred in the barracks, convinces the men that they have an informer in their midst, collaborating with the enemy. And most of them think that it's Sefton. J.J. Sefton is a hustler. He runs a variety of profit-making ventures in the barracks, such as rat races for which he's the bookie, a makeshift distillery for rotgut liquor, and a telescope for which the other men pay him to peep at the women in the Russian compound which is on the other side of the fence. He uses these payments- mostly cigarettes and such- to buy luxuries and favours for himself from the German guards. The other men- besides Cookie, who admires him- despise Sefton for fraternizing with the enemy and figure that he wouldn't be opposed to selling info to the Germans as well. Things come to a head the week before Christmas when two new men are housed in their barracks: Sgt. Bagradian and Lieutenant Dunbar, who is just supposed to be there until he's transferred to an officer's camp. It turns out that Sefton knows Dunbar from back in the States and there's no love lost between them. Dunbar comes from a wealthy family; when he was made an officer and Sefton wasn't, Sefton assumed it was because of influence and resents Dunbar for it. He makes a point of needling Dunbar whenever he can. While chatting with the other men, Bagradian reveals that, before they were caught, Dunbar had rigged a time delayed bomb and blown up a German munitions train. He's warned by several of the men not to talk about it, because they might have a mole. The following day, one of the men looking through the telescope reports incredulously that Sefton is actually in the Russian women's compound, openly, and the guards are turning a blind eye. While he's over there, Shultz arrives at the barracks and somehow knows exactly where their hidden radio is, confiscating it gleefully. The men are positive that Sefton must have told Schultz about the radio and been rewarded with a trip to the women's compound, but Sefton insists when he returns- finally- that he just bribed the guards with a huge amount of cigarettes. He might have managed to calm everyone down, except at that moment Colonel von Scherbach, the camp warden, shows up and tells Dunbar that it has come to his attention that he was responsible for the recent munitions explosion which crippled an important German train line. He takes Dunbar away for "questioning". The men are now more convinced than ever that Sefton is the informant, since he made no secret of his resentment for Dunbar. Enraged, a group of them surround him and give him a vicious beating. Dunbar is questioned repeatedly while being subjected to sleep deprivation but doesn't admit to anything. It's at this time that an inspector arrives to make sure the Geneva Conventions are being upheld. They're not, but the men are warned not to complain about anything or they will pay for it afterwards. One of them mentions Dunbar, though, demanding to know what's happening to him. The inspector warns Colonel von Scherbach that if he has Dunbar killed without proof, he could be subject to a war crime trial after the war. The Colonel gives Sgt. Schultz a message to pass on to their informant in Barracks 4, telling him to get Bagradian talking about how Dunbar pulled the train job. Schultz hides the note in a hollowed out chess piece, which is how he's been getting info from the mole all along, switching out a king on the barrack's chess board then setting the signal, which is tying a knot in the cord of the light bulb hanging from the ceiling. On Christmas Eve, the men are drinking and holding a "dance" which gives the informant time to retrieve the note and reset the signal unnoticed. Sefton, however, is laid up in his bunk, recovering from the brutal beating he received, and witnesses this. Always a quick thinker, he realizes what this means and ponders what to do with his newfound knowledge. The next morning- Christmas Day- some members of the SS arrive and the men are shocked to find out that Dunbar is going to be taken to Berlin. Hoffman, the barracks chief comes up with a quick but effective plan: the men stage a riot and set off smoke bombs to distract the guards. Then a couple of them grab Dunbar and hide him in the water tower above the latrine. Sefton has been kept under guard in the barracks by Price, who acts as barracks "security" because everyone- except the real traitor, of course- still believes him to be the mole. But Sefton is aware now of the identity of the man who's actually selling them out, and who'll be looking for an opportunity to tell Schultz where Dunbar is in hiding. Will the men manage to get Dunbar out of the camp before the guards find him, or he freezes to death in the water tower? Will Sefton act in the best interest of the group for once? And, if he unmasks the real informant, will the others believe him? And how will they deal with him if they do, without alerting the German guards? I won't spoil the ending, so if you've never seen Stalag 17, you should watch it to find out how it all turns out. In my next post, I'll discuss my thoughts on the film. Related Posts: |
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