Stories of Faith and Courage From World War II (35 page)

Later, a search was conducted for Flechter’s body, but nothing was ever found. He was listed as missing in action, bringing uncertainty and grief to a family in Kansas. Over time his parents and siblings simply had to accept the fact that he wasn’t coming home, and a funeral service was held with an empty casket.

Closure for the Flechter family came in 2005, when a group of Italian civilians found human remains on Mount Battaglia. They also found shoe fragments, pieces of a watch, C-ration cans, and a Catholic prayer card. The card was made of fabric with an image of Jesus Christ left on a protective plastic sheet. DNA and the prayer card identified Harold Flechter. Of all the men missing in his unit, he was the only Catholic. “We thought it was a miracle,” his brother said of the discovery and identification.
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Peace came to this heroic soldier’s family on several levels. They finally knew exactly what happened to Flechter and were able to bury his remains at the foot of his headstone. More importantly, they were comforted by the fact that he did not die alone. His Savior was close at hand with the comfort that only he can give: assurance of a place at his side with God throughout eternity.

Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Jesus answered him, “I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise.”

—Luke 23:42–43

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UNE 23

Still Small Voice

In 1943 Dean Willard Sperry of Harvard University published a small booklet titled, Prayers for Private Devotions in War-Time. One of his prayers, dated to the seventh century, addressed the “Spirit of Prayer”:

Dispel for this hour, O Lord, the manifold distractions of the world; that we may be able with quiet minds to receive the promptings of thy still small voice.
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The inspiration for this prayer clearly comes from a story in the Old Testament about the prophet Elijah’s encounter with God on Mount Horeb:

The L
ORD
said, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the L
ORD
, for the L
ORD
is about to pass by.” Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the L
ORD
, but the L
ORD
was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the L
ORD
was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the L
ORD
was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gently whisper. When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave. Then a voice said to him, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” ~1 Kings 19:11–13

This story in no way limits how God communicates to man. He can and does speak in any way he pleases. He has revealed himself in Scripture and often speaks to us as we read and study it. He used thunder when addressing Moses. If he ever speaks to us that way, we don’t have to worry about hearing him. However, we know that God speaks most often to us quietly as we pray. He wants us to come to him in prayer and wants us to listen to him in return. Unfortunately, we often allow God’s voice to be drowned out by the noise in our lives. Today, it is even worse than when Dean Sperry offered his prayer in wartime. Today we are bombarded by news, entertainment, and advertising media that have made a science of commanding our attention. Our “manifold distractions” have multiplied many times over. To have a meaningful relationship with our heavenly Father we must make quiet time and a “quiet mind” our absolutely first priorities.

Be still, and know that I am God.

—Psalm 46:10

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UNE 24

Shaken but Grateful

The bombing run over Ploesti was a disaster. Vaughn Gordy’s B-24 was riddled with flak and two engines were knocked out. One crew member was killed and several others were wounded. As the aircraft started losing speed and altitude, a decision had to be made about the five-hundred-mile flight home over water. Could they make it on two engines? The pilot and engineer finally decided they could. Gordy said, “ With fingers crossed and an appeal to God’s help we headed across the Adriatic.”
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The crew started throwing every loose item overboard to lighten the ship.

Forty miles later, one of the remaining engines caught fire, and the pilot immediately announced, “We’re going to ditch.”
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As the B-24 struck the water with a violent crash, Gordy was knocked unconscious for a moment and woke up to find himself in shoulder-deep water. Someone helped him out the top hatch and into a rubber raft where he soon saw his airplane sink beneath the surface. Fortunately, rescue came soon as an Air Force seaplane appeared over the horizon. Gordy summed up the incident:

Four hours after the crash we were back in Italy. Final tally: our tail-gunner was killed in the crash and went down with the plane; our waist-gunner was seriously injured, but survived; but the rest of the crew went back to work the next day, shaken but grateful.
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After ditching at sea, some time off would seem to be in order. Bomber Command, however, seemed to believe that crash survivors should just get over the trauma and get back to work. It is undoubtedly true that the longer you brood about a pain or fear, the harder it will be to get over it later. This applies especially in our relationships. It is always better to clear the air sooner rather than later. Instead of letting a sore spot fester, forgive someone or ask them for forgiveness, and get on with your next assignment.

Still another said, “I will follow you, Lord; but first let me go back and say good-by to my family.” Jesus replied, “No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God.”

—Luke 9:61–62

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UNE 25

Three Hymn Books

Horace Maycock was taken prisoner on Christmas morning 1942. He soon arrived in Camp 70, south of Rome, with thousands of other captured soldiers. Describing this traumatic experience, he said:

It is difficult to convey the true meaning of loss of liberty. Those who have experienced it can fully understand the complete turnaround involved, in which a name becomes a number, the man a machine. It is not easy to adapt to an inflicted mechanical atmosphere, to be thrust suddenly into a world that, at first sight, appears devoid of any understanding of human rights and feelings.
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Under the brutal conditions of captivity, this soldier did find a way to fill the void of human understanding. He and many others made their way to the “churches” organized in their camp. There were Wesleyan, Anglican, and Catholic groups, each of which was a source of strength and encouragement to those who participated.

In November 1943 Maycock was moved to Germany with sixty other prisoners to work on a railroad construction site. As Christmas approached, he took it upon himself to organize a church for this small group. They were all billeted in one room, and this became the sanctuary. He made a rough wooden cross. His only other resources were three old hymnbooks, from which he copied songs onto sheets of black-out paper. With one violin for accompaniment, he held the first service on Christmas morning.

The image of this worship service comes to mind when I am sitting comfortably in my own Episcopal church, surrounded by stained glass, organ music, silver, and linen. I wonder if we come close to the spiritual depth of these men worshipping under much more austere conditions. Probably not. In their circumstance, the need for God was obvious and urgent. Truly, in this sense, blessed are the poor in spirit. We can only approximate this urgency by reminding ourselves of our fallen nature and our constant need for the forgiveness and grace of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

For where two or three come together in my name, there am I with them.

—Matthew 18:20

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UNE 26

We Need to Care

Albert Thomas saw a lot during his service with the 366
^th

Infantry Division. He was a frontline infantryman, sniper, winch operator, and truck driver. With assignments in Italy, France, and the South Pacific, he was never in one place for long. The worst time for him was in the Po Valley during the Allied drive north of Rome. He saw a lot of men wounded and killed, including a good friend whom he was not able to help during the heat of battle. His feelings of sadness and regret stayed with him:

When it comes down to it we are all just humans here to help each other. Seeing this devastation every day for years takes its toll on you. You come home to things and people don’t understand you. You’re messed up from all the sadness and cruelty you see. I wish today we could care about each other the way we use [sic] to. No matter the money or things you have we are the same. You only live for so long we need to care about each other. That’s what I discovered to be the most important from being in the war.
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We can each benefit from the insights of this veteran who found his own way to cope with suffering. He saw all of war’s destruction: cities and countryside devastated, soldiers wounded and killed, civilians rendered destitute. He struggled with all this and eventually concluded that the most important thing for him was to help other people. It is a blessing to see a good man’s thoughtful reaction to the horrors of war. It gives us hope that we can each struggle through our trials and disappointments to a better day, focusing less on our own misery, and more on caring for those around us.

“Do you understand what I have done for you?” he asked them. “You call me ‘Teacher’ and ‘Lord,’ and rightly so, for that is what I am. Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you.”

—John 13:12–15

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UNE 27

He Knew No Enemy

Chaplains had to keep records, and the most important were those of deaths and burials. Chaplain Wallace Hale’s files grew quite large during his service with the 88
^th

Infantry Division in North Africa and Italy. His combat workbook eventually listed more than a thousand soldiers, with name, rank, serial number, denomination, and location of burial. Many years later, a colleague referred to this workbook while eulogizing Chaplain Hale:

If you took that manual, you would find page after page after page of German soldiers: their names, their ranks, their units, their location of burial, because Wallace buried them in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Wallace knew no enemy. Wallace saw people as either the sons and daughters of the Living God through Jesus Christ, or he saw them as potential sons and daughters of the Living God. No enemy. They were treated as lovingly, as tenderly, as each and every American soldier.
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Hale himself described his role as a chaplain: “ I was a regular army Chaplain who tried to use his religious experiences and knowledge to build men up… I stood for fairness, for justice, and for forgiveness in an organization that, at times, tried to ignore these concepts.”
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In a military organization highly focused on its combat mission and the material aspects of war, this man brought a deep concern for individual human beings, regardless of their religious condition or nationality. This is an example that Christians must follow. Jesus died for all mankind and focused his own ministry on those most in need. He was criticized for associating with prostitutes and tax collectors, but said, “The Son of Man came to seek and to save what was lost” (Luke 19:10). Without Jesus we are all lost, and we share this status with every other human being. We should look at all others as “potential sons and daughters of the Living God.”

Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.

—1 Timothy 1:15

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UNE 28

God Bless America

Irving Berlin was a Jewish immigrant who came to the United States when he was five years old. He wrote the great patriotic song “God Bless America” during World War I while serving in the U.S. Army at Camp Upton, New York.
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Composed for a musical revue, but not used at the time, the song languished in his files for years. In 1938, as war was spreading through Europe, he reintroduced it in an Armistice Day broadcast on the Kate Smith radio show. He included an introduction that is now rarely heard, urging listeners to “swear allegiance to a land that’s free” and “be grateful for a land so fair as we raise our voices in a solemn prayer.”
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