Stories of Faith and Courage From World War II (38 page)

No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him.

—1 Corinthians 2:9

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ULY 8

Better Off Angry

It was comforting to see the fighter escort nearby, but, unfortunately, they would not be there long. As the

Luscious Lady flew further into France, Merlin Miller became more and more nervous at his tail-gun position. This was his second raid on Schweinfurt, deep in German territory, and he knew it would probably be as bad as the first. Alone with his thoughts, there wasn’t much to do other than anticipate what lay ahead. As the escorting P-47s peeled off, he went through a familiar mental exercise:

I said to myself, ‘Merlin, get mad, get angry.’ I started thinking about the Germans, what they were trying to do to us, what I was going to do to them, anything to stir up my blood and get anger coursing through my system, anything to take away from that feeling of fear I otherwise would have had. By this time I figured out that it was difficult for a person to feel two emotions at the same time. In combat I thought I was better off being angry than afraid.
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This airman’s strategy for dealing with fear was effective, and it is not uncommon to see athletes use the same approach as they try to get “psyched up” for a big game. However, we should consider war and football the exceptions rather the rule. Anger is usually a destructive emotion and counterproductive to solving our problems. It is always a bad idea to take action against others when upset. We need to be especially careful when we find ourselves with feelings of anger toward God. He is not the cause of our problems, but rather the solution. We are usually the problem. In our relationship with him, we are better off being afraid than angry.

The fear of the L
ORD
is the beginning of wisdom; all who follow his precepts have good understanding. To him belongs eternal praise.

—Psalm 111:10

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ULY 9

Hogie and Wac

My twin uncles were pilot and copilot of a B-26 medium bomber. They took off from Rougham, England, on May 17, 1943, to bomb a power plant in Holland, and, with the rest of their entire squadron, never returned. Edward and Arthur Norton, nicknamed “Hogie” and “Wac” were the proud sons of my mother’s parents, pioneers of aviation in the small town of Conway, South Carolina, and hometown heroes. They left Clemson College in 1941 to join the Army Air Corps, seeking to answer the call of a nation at war and to pursue their love of flying. At their own insistence, they were together in the same airplane. The deaths of these promising young men was a tragedy for an entire community and my family.

My grandmother was the daughter of a minister and a lifelong pillar of the Presbyterian Church. She made sure her family was well grounded in the Christian faith and faithful in their Christian duties. Even so, this event was a blow that she and my grandfather felt forever after. When the war was over, they sent a poem to be read at a memorial service for another pilot who died with their sons. It captures the devastation that they felt, but also a determination to find a higher meaning in the tragedy:

As we trail the weary pathway down the sunset slope of life
As we pass through grievous shadows in this war torn world of strife.
Then our thoughts turn slowly backward to a better, brighter day
When we were building castles and watching you at play.
We had dreams and hopes and visions for your busy little feet
Now we know those dreams and visions never-more your lives shall meet.
And now lonely, sad and stricken our one debt to you is plain
To prove that your great sacrifice shall not have been in vain.
So tis us you left behind you who must carry on
Take up the fight you died for till the last great battle’s won.
And to you we pledge our promise in the peace that is to be
That we shall never falter that the whole world may be free.
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The righteous perish, and no one ponders it in his heart; devout men are taken away, and no one understands that the righteous are taken away to be spared from evil. Those who walk uprightly enter into peace; they find rest as they lie in death.

—Isaiah 57:12

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ULY 10

The Weaver

Bert Ramsey was killed in 1943 when his B-26 medium bomber collided with another aircraft during a low-level attack on a power plant in Holland. A Dutch family buried him there, and his parents later held a memorial service at home in his honor. The service was conducted on November 25, 1945, at the Statesboro, Georgia, Methodist Church. After the congregation sang “Onward, Christian Soldiers,” The Reverend Charles Jackson prayed and gave a sermon. A series of tributes to Ramsey and poems to comfort the family were then read. Mrs. Sanford Schulert, whose husband had been killed in the same raid, recited a poem with a special message for the grieving family:
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My life is but a weaving Between my Lord and me.
I cannot choose the colors He worketh steadily.
Oft times He weaveth sorrow And I, in foolish pride,
Forget He sees the upper and I the underside.
Not til the loom is silent And the shuttles cease to fly,
Shall God unroll the canvas And explain the reason why.
The dark threads are as needful In the Weaver’s skillful hand
As the threads of gold and silver In the pattern He has planned.

This well-known poem provides a unique insight into our relationship with God. God interacts with us as we pray, study, and work together with him to weave the pattern of our lives. This weaving process presents an issue of perspective. Ours is limited by our human nature as we experience events only as they affect us. God’s perspective is all encompassing and eternal. A tragedy to us may simply be part of God’s plan and even a cause for heavenly celebration. We need to rest in the assurance that God sees the completed tapestry as it unfolds according to his design.

This third I will bring into the fire; I will refine them like silver and test them like gold. They will call my name and I will answer them; I will say, “They are my people,” and they will say, “The L
ORD
is our God.”

—Zechariah 13:9

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ULY 11

Holes in the Fuselage

Their first mission was supposed to be a “milk run.” They were flying in support of ground troops near Caen, and someone had even decided that flak jackets and helmets wouldn’t be needed. Since the flight path was close to the English Channel, Bill Frankhouser looked forward to an easy first day as navigator on his B-17. However, as they approached the target area at an altitude of 14,000 feet, the picture began to change. Bill started to notice tracers coming up from below, although well under his formation. Then a few black puffs appeared closer to their altitude. Suddenly, he found out that he was at war:

I noticed a one to two-inch-diameter hole as it opened in the aluminum hull close to my right-side gun, and small metallic shavings were propelled inward. This was my first realization that we really were in combat. The Germans were shooting big guns and the plane’s hull offered no protection!
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This story brought back memories of my first time under fire in a helicopter. We were hovering over a hillside in Vietnam, hoisting a wounded Marine through jungle canopy. Suddenly, holes began appearing in the skin of the helicopter. The gunfire was unheard because of the engine noise, making the sensation especially eerie and frightening. Those few moments of being utterly defenseless are burned in my memory. I can’t imagine the courage required of these World War II airmen who had to face this extreme vulnerability day after day, week after week. It is gratifying to know that so many of them had a strong faith on which to lean. True comfort during such fearful times can only be found in an eternal perspective and in the assurance of an ultimate safe haven in God’s eternal kingdom.

Lord, you have been our dwelling place throughout all generations. Before the mountains were born or you brought forth the earth and the world, from everlasting to everlasting you are God.

—Psalm 90:12

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ULY 12

Brownie’s Faith

The coast of England finally came into view, but they knew they weren’t going to make it. The B-17 was unable to hold its altitude on its one remaining engine, and settled ever closer to the waves below. Expecting to ditch at any moment, the crew assembled in the radio room and braced themselves for a crash landing. Each became lost in his own thoughts as they looked at each other and waited for the inevitable. One of the crewmen, Elmer Brown, started praying. George Hoyt, the radio operator, remained at his console, sending SOS signals in Morse code. Hoyt looked over at his praying friend for reassurance, and he was not disappointed:

Brownie’s faith shone as bright as the very sun itself. I remembered him giving me a smile as big as all outdoors. Out my window I saw the choppy and rough sea coming towards us, closer and closer, and I prayed fervently as I continued to beat out those SOS signals.
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Hoyt and others in the crew went on to describe an amazing peace that settled over the group in this tense moment: As we were waiting to hit the water, a complete calm came over us as if ‘all is well.’ A feeling of absolute calm, just like I was laying under a tree back on the farm…(I felt) a great calm take possession of me which language can’t describe. I experienced a peace that surpasses all imagination as I watched the whitecaps now flicking by under the wing… I called to Brownie and the boys, ‘This is it!’
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This smile for a friend in a moment of extreme stress is a strong witness to the power of faith. The faith of this one airman not only reassured him, but, when he let it show outwardly, brought peace to his friends as well. We should always look to our heavenly Father during times of stress with faith that he will hear our pleas. Then, we should also be ready to share a smile with a friend to bear witness to the reassuring power of our faith.

In the same way, let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven.

—Matthew 5:16

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ULY 13

Commitment

Bud Mahurin’s perspective on war began to change in his first dogfight. A burst from his machine guns hit the ME-110 and, as the enemy aircraft trailed smoke and spiraled down, he could see the tail-gunner slumped over and wounded. He realized suddenly that,

“We’re chasing after other human beings, and not just a machine that’s flying in the air.”
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In March 1944 Mahurin himself was shot down and had to bail out of his P-47 behind enemy lines. He came down near Orleans, France, more than 130 miles from the coast. He hid in a field for a day and then made his way to a French farmhouse. The farmer took him to a local member of the Resistance.

During the days that followed he was hidden in haystacks, barns, and basements. Every night he was moved and handed off to another Resistance group. Finally, the difficult arrangements were made for a light plane to pick him up in a field at night. After several failed attempts, he was successfully rescued and flown back to England. His experience gave him another new perspective on war and the dedication of the people who helped him:

The Gestapo and German Army were always looking for downed American and British pilots. Whenever the Germans saw a parachute coming down or they found one of our planes wrecked but no body in it they would flood the area with search parties. If I got caught, I’d be sent to a POW camp. But if the Resistance guys got caught, they would be executed on the spot.
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This is the measure of true commitment, to be prepared to give your life for a cause. Dying for our faith may be a remote possibility, but, if we are committed to our faith, we need to resolve how we will act when things get difficult. My Bible provides an essay with some pointed advice on this subject: “In essence, we must consistently choose to love and obey God, even when doing so is hard or mundane. Like a marriage partner, we choose to stick with God ‘for better or for worse.’ God blesses those who consistently come to him.”
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“Because he loves me,” says the L
ORD
, “I will rescue him; I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name. He will call upon me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver him and honor him.”

—Psalm 91:14–15

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ULY 14

Every Day Is Monday

Whit Hill received his draft notice in September 1941 and promptly enlisted in the Army Air Corps. He was sent to sheet metal repair school to learn the skills needed to fix damaged aircraft fuselages. He went to England with the 91
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