Stories of Faith and Courage From World War II (55 page)

—Ephesians 6:19

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CTOBER 7

Moment of Reckoning

Shortly before 11:30 p.m. the converted Royal Air Force bomber began rolling down the runway at Keevil airfield. Members of the 12
^th

Yorkshire Parachute Battalion, laden with their equipment and weapons, were huddled in the bay, deep in their own thoughts. As the wheels of the aircraft ceased to roll, Capt. Philip Burkinshaw realized they were airborne. He vividly recalled his thoughts at that moment:

My mind was awhirl with mixed emotions and, I must confess, some fears, particularly the fear of being afraid. Would we be dropped on or near to the dropping zone, or perhaps due to change in the weather or wind speed, or a fault in navigation, well behind enemy lines; would I find the rendezvous; how would I shape up in front of my platoon in the stark reality and unaccustomed horrors of battle, and would I command and guide them as they deserved. The moment of reckoning was inexorably approaching for me, as it was for thousands of others in the air, on land and on sea.
⁴¹⁹

Anyone who has experienced combat can identify with Captain Burkinshaw’s fears. Most would agree that the fear of not measuring up in the eyes of others is acute, especially before going into action for the first time. No one knows how he or she will react in a crisis until that “moment of reckoning.” We should all realize, of course, that such a moment is ahead for every human being. We are all approaching the end of life and the great unknown at a speed we cannot measure. Our last moment may arrive in due course or unexpectedly. God has provided the one and only way to alleviate our instinctive fear of this event. Through his Son, we are assured that our “moment of reckoning” will be a joyous reunion, as we take our place with him in eternity.

But now that you have been set free from sin and have become slaves to God, the benefit you reap leads to holiness, and the result is eternal life. For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.

—Romans 6:22–23

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CTOBER 8

Lips Moving Wordlessly

The British war correspondent sat nervously in the eerie glow of the aircraft’s interior red lights. The paratroopers’ faces appeared slightly blue and the tips of their cigarettes white as they joked among themselves and waited. After a sharp turn over the coast the exterior lights and rotating beacons of all the aircraft in the formation were extinguished, giving them a ghostlike quality as they headed out over the Channel toward their Normandy drop zones. The correspondent described the final minutes before this group of men would start the invasion of Europe:

Someone called out: “Ten minutes to go.” The paratroop commander talked quietly to his men. A final briefing. I shall never forget the scene up there in those last fateful minutes, those long lines of motionless, grimfaced young men burdened like pack-horses so that they could hardly stand unaided. Just waiting… So young they looked, on the edge of the unknown. And somehow, so sad. Most sat with eyes closed as the seconds ticked by. They seemed to be asleep, but I could see lips moving wordlessly. I wasn’t consciously thinking of anything in particular, but suddenly I found the phrase “Thy rod and Thy staff” moving through my mind again and again. Just that and no more.
⁴²⁰

The apparent tranquility of this scene is betrayed by the many lips “moving wordlessly” in the semidarkness. Who can imagine the inner turmoil of a group of men facing a night parachute drop into enemy territory? The dangers multiply as each man visualizes all that can happen. I have great empathy for the unfortunate souls who had only the cold comfort of their own thoughts in these moments. Fortunately, we know there were many who had a place to go outside themselves. Moving lips is sure evidence that some were seeking God in this fearful moment. Prayer is the only activity I know of that guarantees us a way outside ourselves. We need to build this bridge with God during the quiet times in our lives so that it will be there during those fearful moments when our minds want to multiply the dangers ahead.

Because Jesus lives forever, he has a permanent priesthood. Therefore he is able to save completely those who come to God through him, because he always lives to intercede for them.

—Hebrews 7:24–25

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CTOBER 9

Trees

As the C-47 neared the drop zone it was bouncing furiously. Turbulent air and flak were giving the paratroopers a rough ride. Malcolm Brannon was number 15 in a stick of eighteen jumpers, and, with all his gear, weighed about three hundred pounds. To stand up and hook up to the static line were not easy tasks, and to remain standing was almost impossible as the aircraft rose and fell violently. As the light flashed green and the jumpmaster shouted, “Go!” he pushed those in front as he was pushed from behind, out the door into the darkness.

Within seconds Brannon felt the sharp and reassuring jolt of his opening canopy. Enemy tracers were lacing the air around him, and he began praying for his friends and for himself. As he neared the ground he became aware that he was drifting backwards. Fearing a bad landing with his heavy equipment, he tried unsuccessfully to maneuver his parachute so that he could hit the ground facing forward. As time ran out, he tensed for the worst. Suddenly there was a swish as he passed through the limbs of a tree and a slow deceleration as he came to a stop one foot from the ground. He said later, “I was under HIS guidance I knew and I said, ‘Thanks.’”
⁴²¹
Amazingly, he was also reminded in that moment of an old poem expressing reverence for the same thing that had saved him:

I think that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree that looks at God all day, And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
Poems are made by fools like me, But only God can make a tree.
⁴²²

Only God can make a tree, and only God can give a frightened soldier the faith that a greater power is with him in the midst of danger.

And the L
ORD
God made all kinds of trees grow out of the ground trees that were pleasing to the eye and good for food. In the middle of the garden were the tree of life and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.

—Genesis 2:9

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CTOBER 10

Broken

The young French girl was fast asleep when the walls of her house seemed to shake. She then heard loud voices and got out of bed to see what was happening. The nine-year-old Marie-T Lavieille opened the door to the kitchen and saw a strange sight. A large man was seated in the middle of the room. His face was painted black, and he was wearing a helmet with leaves and a khaki uniform full of pockets. He was holding his right arm and speaking words that she could not understand. Her mother and brothers stood around him as he kept saying over and over, “Broken, broken.” After a while, the injured man bandaged his own shoulder and gave Marie a chocolate bar from one of his pockets. One of her brothers drove him somewhere to get medical attention. It was a night she would never forget. Her family had helped an American paratrooper of the 82
^nd
Airborne Division. Marie later said of the incident:

‘Broken’—this first English word remains burned in my memory. For me, I was just 9 years old—and because of this extraordinary experience—I became an English professor, often serving as an interpreter during ceremonies of the anniversary of D-Day.
⁴²³

Sometimes we forget how impressionable a child can be. My wife and I once met an extremely talented illustrator of children’s books. I will never forget his concern for how a young mind might perceive his artwork. He was convinced that a violent image could be fixed in the memory of a child, with lasting consequences. In our present age of television and video games this seems like an almost quaint notion: to guard the images and protect the minds of our children. The story of Marie and the paratrooper is a reminder of how important it is to keep trying, no matter how difficult is seems. A child’s images are lasting. We need to make sure that as many as possible are wholesome and uplifting.

But if anyone causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a large millstone hung around his neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea.

—Matthew 18:6

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CTOBER 11

Forward Observer

Hours before daylight on D-Day four men in a rubber boat approached Omaha Beach. Three Navy frogmen dropped off into the water. The fourth man, Lt. William Smith, continued to the beach where he crawled ashore in darkness and dug a shallow foxhole for protection. His dangerous mission was to get to the beach undetected and to adjust naval gunfire by radio.

Lieutenant Smith, or “Smitty” as he was called, understood his overwhelming responsibility. He had landed in North Africa and Sicily, and knew what the weapons hidden above him could do to troops and landing craft. He was a twenty-seven-year-old veteran, handpicked for this new and untried assignment, and had trained for weeks in the difficult art of coordinating the fire of moving ships against stationary targets.

Smitty was also a very religious man. When he packed his duffel bag, the last thing in and the first thing out was his Bible. When he wasn’t on the job, his first priority was reading it, and he did this every night without fail. He also turned to God frequently in prayer. His son later described how he prepared for his D-Day mission:

He had long ago resolved himself to the near certainty of his own death. He was going to call fire as long as he had a single breath in his body. He would leave his own fate, and thus the fate of many of those coming ashore in his sector, to God… he asked only that God look out for them. As usual, there was no thought of his personal safety. On this day God certainly had more important things to think about than him.
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At the end of a long and harrowing day on Omaha Beach, Smitty turned off his radio and thanked God, not for his own survival, but that he had been able to do his job successfully. He also said a prayer for “those brave, brave men that had fallen in service to their nation, and their God.”
⁴²⁵
He was awarded the Bronze Star for his heroic actions on D-Day.

Sing to the L
ORD
a new song, for he has done marvelous things; his right hand and his holy arm have worked salvation for him.

—Psalms 98:1

Field Marshal Rommel inspecting beach defenses. (Eisenhower Presidential Library)

Landing craft ramp goes down on a Normandy beach. (National Archives)

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CTOBER 12

I Didn’t Feel Too Good

The boat ride to Omaha Beach was somewhat peaceful until the ramp of the landing craft went down. Sgt. Hy Haas looked out on a scene of pure terror. Smoke and machine-gun bullets filled the air. The sound of mortar and artillery shells exploding was ear-splitting. Haas went into the water first to scout for mines, and then drove his self-propelled anti-aircraft gun off the landing craft into the water. It was pandemonium. He had been on the beach only a few minutes when an officer ran up to him gesturing to a point ahead. There was a German bunker blocking the advance to the bluff overlooking the beach. Through a clearing in the smoke, Haas got a clear shot at the bunker and destroyed it.