Stories of Faith and Courage from World War II

by Larkin Spivey

  The Lord our God has shown us his glory and his majesty, and we have heard his voice from the fire.

  —Deuteronomy 5:24

  February 28

  Spruance

  After the war, Mitsuo Fuchida, the leader of the attack on Pearl Harbor, coauthored a book about the Battle of Midway. The book contains a foreword written by Adm. Raymond Spruance, the officer most responsible for the success of the U.S. forces during the battle. In the foreword Admiral Spruance makes this comment:

  In reading the account of what happened on June 4th, I am more than ever impressed with the part that good or bad fortune sometimes plays in tactical engagements. The authors give us credit, where no credit is due, for being able to choose the exact time for our attack on the Japanese carriers when they were at their greatest disadvantage—flight decks full of aircraft fueled, armed, and ready to go.80

  Admiral Spruance displays a sense of humility unique to a military hero. He makes an unusual concession that the actions of the leaders involved were not the determining factor in this great victory. He attributes the amazing timing of his own attack to “good fortune,” which, for a nonreligious person, would be a perfectly adequate explanation. It is my belief, however, that, instead of a series of “lucky” incidents at Midway we have seen a pattern of events that shows evidence of God’s hand acting on behalf of the American forces at this crucial moment of the war. It is difficult to imagine the long-range consequence of a different outcome to this battle. If the Japanese had achieved mastery of the Pacific, America would have been forced to drastically alter its commitment to the war in Europe. The shape of Europe and the world after the war would not have been the same.

  When the trumpets sounded, the people shouted, and at the sound of the trumpet, when the people gave a loud shout, the wall collapsed; so every man charged straight in, and they took the city.

  —Joshua 6:20

  Big guns firing from U.S. warship. (National Archives)

  March

  BATTLE OF THE ATLANTIC

  During the 1930s, isolationist sentiment against involvement in the growing European conflict was strong. Negative public opinion and budget restrictions resulted in a meager allocation of resources to the U.S. military establishment. Up until 1940, the comfortable assumption prevailed that the army of France and the navy of Great Britain could successfully contain Nazi Germany in Europe. When this illusion was shattered, the United States, while continuing to profess “neutrality,” adopted a more open role designed to “keep England in the war” and to prepare herself for war.

  Walking a political tightrope, President Roosevelt entered into base-sharing agreements with Canada and Great Britain, and pushed a “Lend-Lease” program through Congress to provide ships and materiel to the beleaguered British. On the day that Paris fell, the president signed a naval expansion bill that had been in debate for months, in effect doubling the size of the U.S. Navy.81 Unfortunately, it would take two years to bring this expansion on line. In September 1940 the Selective Training and Service Act was passed creating the military draft.

  From the beginning, the German submarine (U-boat) threat to U.S. and British shipping had been serious. With the fall of France, however, the Germans were able to establish bases on the French coast, almost doubling the effective range of their submarines. Admiral Donitz, the German commander of U-boat operations, initiated a new concept called Rudeltaktik, or “wolf-pack” tactics, enabling groups of submarines to force their way through escort screens to effectively attack merchant convoys. The toll on Allied shipping began to rise ominously. During late 1940, 217 merchant vessels were sunk, representing more than a million tons of shipping. Britain’s survival became ever more tenuous. Winston Churchill declared, “The only thing that ever really frightened me during the war was the U-boat peril.”82

  The Battle of the Atlantic continued furiously for the duration of the war. Allied losses continued to be heavy during 1942 and 1943. Upon America’s official entry into the war, German operations also moved into American waters, inflicting heavy losses on coastal shipping and commerce in the Western Hemisphere. Progress countering this threat was painfully slow. Escorted convoys were the preferred countermeasure against submarines. There just weren’t enough escorts. Slowly, more destroyers became available, as Britain, Canada, and the United States were able to commit more resources to this theater of the war. Land-based air coverage was gradually extended, and the final gap eventually filled by escort carriers after 1943.

  The climax of the Battle of the Atlantic came in late April 1943 when a forty-two-ship Allied convoy came against a U-boat picket line of fifty-one submarines off Iceland. Cdr. P. W. Gretton, RN, fought a decisive action over nine days in the worst possible weather. With nine ships he sank five U-boats, while aircraft disposed of two more.83 The German high command had to reappraise strategy. After this battle, most submarine activity was directed toward less defended, and less strategic, shipping lanes.

  March 1

  Sink the Bismarck

  Revenge was the order of the day. The German battleship Bismarck had destroyed HMS Hood in the Denmark Strait. The British battle cruiser was the pride of the Royal Navy, and her sudden loss was one of the most shocking events of World War II. The British high command devoted every available resource to find and sink the Bismarck. The battle was joined on May 26, 1941, when a squadron of Swordfish aircraft from HMS Ark Royal found the enemy battleship and made a torpedo strike that damaged her steering. The next morning a group of British warships closed in with a withering surface attack that sank the Bismarck in less than two hours.

  Lt. Ludovic Kennedy was on the bridge of HMS Tartar and watched the final moments of the great warship. His thoughts were conflicted:

  It was not a pretty sight. Bismarck was a menace that had to be destroyed, a dragon that would have severed the arteries that kept Britain alive. And yet to see her now, this beautiful ship, surrounded by enemies on all sides, hopelessly outgunned and out maneuvered, being slowly battered to a wreck, filled one with awe and pity… George Whaley, our Canadian lieutenant, wrote, “What that ship was like inside did not bear thinking of; her guns smashed, the ship full of fire, her people hurt; and surely all men are much the same when hurt.” It was a thought shared by many British sailors that day.84

  It is somehow comforting to hear these conflicting emotions in a moment of triumph. The climax of this battle was surely satisfying to every British seaman. At the same time, there were pangs of conscience at the suffering of enemy counterparts. It is reassuring to know that such humanity existed then and that it is there within each one of us now. Jesus said, “I desire mercy, not sacrifice”(Matthew 9:13). In our moments of success we must open our hearts to him and let ourselves be the vessels of his mercy. This kind of loving humility is only possible through our Lord, Jesus Christ.

  Yet when they were ill, I put on sackcloth and humbled myself with fasting… I went about mourning as though for my friend or brother. I bowed my head in grief.

  —Psalm 35:13, 14

  March 2

  At Sea on a Corvette

  Corvettes were small naval vessels built early in the war to fill the urgent need for convoy escorts. Even smaller than destroyers, they were a violent ride in heavy seas. Actually designed for coastal duty, they were often pressed into the service of ocean-going convoys. Frank Curry spent much of the war on the HMCS Kamsack, a Canadian Navy corvette operating out of Newfoundland and Nova Scotia. Unending days at sea aboard these little ships was a true test of human endurance. From Curry’s diary:

  Now I know something of the meaning of rough seas. Mountainous seas are breaking completely over the ship, and it is turning into massive coatings of ice as it hits. We are sheathed in sixteen inches of ice and I do not know what keeps us from going to the bottom of the Atlantic as we pitch, toss, roll and everything else imaginable.

  Just as we were about to head back to Sydney, we received urgent orders to proceed to the rescue of a
torpedoed ship in the Gulf. So off we went into the very teeth of terrific seas. Boy, are they ever huge green ones. Going on watch at 10:00 p.m., I stood for a few minutes by the wheelhouse which is all of 20 feet above the water line, and looked straight up at mountainous seas that made our little corvette seem very insignificant indeed—I hung on for dear life as I made my way in pitch dark with the roaring gales tearing at me every foot of the way, up to the bridge. How can anyone know what a night like this is at sea who has never actually experienced it.85

  Sometimes when we study history we focus on the big picture of military campaigns and strategy, and lose sight of the “little” picture: the toll on each man and woman who has to implement those strategies. The life of the corvette sailor is a reminder of the individual sacrifice and hardship endured for years by thousands during the Battle of the Atlantic. Their struggle gives special meaning to the words of the “Navy Hymn”:

  Eternal Father, strong to save, whose arm hath bound the restless wave,

  Who bidd’st the mighty ocean deep its own appointed limits keep;

  Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee, for those in peril on the sea!86

  They saw the works of the Lord, his wonderful deeds in the deep. For he spoke and stirred up a tempest that lifted high the waves.

  —Psalm 107:24–25

  March 3

  The Old Sailing Rule

  Frank Curry continued his harrowing account of rescuing a torpedoed ship in the Gulf of St. Lawrence during a winter storm:

  Terrible seas still running as we pounded our way into them. We are bouncing all over creation. Somehow we found the merchant ship at 0200 of the wildest darkest night imaginable, and got a line aboard her. Headed slowly back to Sydney from close to St. Paul’s Island. It is rougher than I ever dreamt the ocean could be. Our mess decks are knee-deep in bitterly cold sea water, everything possible is afloat from spilled tins of jam to best uniforms, hats, sea-biscuits, letters and books. No one gives it a second thought—for it seems all-important to think of survival. Arms and legs and joints are screaming for even a moment’s relaxation from the jarring and pitching and beating. One has to go back to the old sailing rule of one hand for the ship, one hand for yourself, particularly on the upper deck where one false move means the end.87

  The “old sailing rule” originated with an old salt who wisely realized that aboard ship the best intentions are useless if you get injured or lost at sea because you neglected the violent movements of the ship itself. No matter the importance of the task at hand, you have to first make sure that you are physically secure in your surroundings. This is a great analogy for our spiritual lives. Our spiritual anchor point is our Savior, Jesus Christ. We always have to have one hand out for him, to support us and guide us as we tackle the vexing problems of our daily lives. Without him, we will be battered by our problems and lost in our spiritual journey.

  He said to his disciples, “Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?” They were terrified and asked each other, “Who is this? Even the wind and the waves obey him!”

  —Mark 4:40–41

  March 4

  A Child’s Perspective

  In March 1943 eleven-year-old Joan Corbin wrote to her uncle, Walter Kellogg, serving aboard ship in the North Atlantic:

  Dear Uncle Joe:

  Is it fun on your boat? I hope so. I am in Maryland but am going home very soon. It’s very warm; 70 degrees today! We waded in the woods even! I have made lips here. Mine! I have kissed them. You kiss them too. The love will carry. I hope you will come home safely. I am telling God to keep you in His grace. Please remember me. I won’t forget you, or the job you are doing for your country.

  Love, Joanie88

  I’m sure it was best that little Joanie didn’t know the details of her uncle’s service at sea. In fact, this is one of the main objectives of all servicemen in war, to protect their loved ones, especially the children, at home. It is also refreshing to hear a child’s perspective on some things that we take so seriously as adults.

  During my time in Vietnam, we received many letters from grade school children. Their honesty and naîveté were always uplifting. It is wonderful to catch glimpses of their perspective on the world, especially the innocence and wonder that we too often lose as adults. We know that Jesus honored the children and that he exhorts us to maintain a childlike attitude. This doesn’t mean that we stop thinking or reasoning. It does mean that our faith has to be simple and complete, as a child’s love of a parent or an uncle at sea.

  Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these.

  —Mark 10:14

  March 5

  Armed Guard

  In 1941 my thirty-six-year-old father was a businessman in Conway, South Carolina. He wanted to join the war effort and went to great lengths to go on active duty with some military service. Finally successful in obtaining a commission in the Naval Reserve, he was assigned to the newly organized Armed Guard of the Navy where he took detachments of Navy sailors aboard merchant vessels as gun crews for submarine and air defense. He saw sea duty with convoys to England, North Africa, and South America.

  Early in the war the merchant seamen viewed these detachments suspiciously. The merchantmen were professionals at their business and rightfully considered these sailors as out of their element. They especially resented young Armed Guard officers who tried to throw their weight around by dictating to the ship’s crew. It was soon found that a special type of officer was needed for this type of duty:

  Emphasis soon shifted away from the procurement of the very young officer and especially of the person who knew or thought he knew too much about running merchant ships. The ideal Armed guard officer was a tactful person who could look after the interests of his men and at the same time keep relations smooth between the Navy complement and master, officers and crew of the merchant ship. He was a man who could get along with people who were under great mental strain and who could win their confidence. His relations with his gunners was close. He was a kind of doctor, chaplain and commanding officer at the same time. The highly nervous individual did not last in the Armed Guard.89

  I must admit to a feeling of pride in reading these qualities of an Armed Guard officer, which I feel are very descriptive of my father. He was a Citadel graduate with military experience and a broad range of civic, business, and family responsibilities. He was an active man and able to get any job done while taking care of those under him. In later life he often repeated his favorite advice on leadership, which he said was “straight out of the Bible.” I learned later that these were actually the words of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ:

  Whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be your slave just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.

  —Matthew 20:26–28

  March 6

  Sighted Sub

  Early in the war, an affectionate epithet for the Armed Guard circulated in Navy circles: “Sighted Sub—Glub Glub.” This uncomplimentary perception changed as the war wore on and these units proved their effectiveness. The phrase itself was a takeoff from one of the most famous phrases in U.S. naval history.

  On January 28, 1942, Donald Mason was piloting a Lockheed Hudson twin-engine aircraft on antisubmarine patrol out of Argentia, Newfoundland. After hours of boredom staring at an empty sea, an alert crewman spotted the thin, characteristic wake of a submarine periscope breaking the surface. Mason attacked at once, dropping two bombs from an altitude of about 25 feet, straddling the periscope. With the detonation of the bombs the submarine was seen to lift out of the water and then to sink vertically. Minutes later an oil slick was observed bubbling to the surface.90 Shortly thereafter Mason radioed an historic four-word message back to base: “Sighted sub, sank same.”91

  Donald Mason was probably following protocol to keep radio traffic to a minimum. How
ever, he gives us a lesson in effective word power. Fewer is usually better. The apostle John was able to communicate the complete Christian gospel in only twenty-six words, showing the beauty and simplicity of Christ’s message in a way that makes it easy for us to succinctly share the good news with others:

  For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.

  —John 3:16

  March 7

  Attack of the Minesweepers

  HMS Harrier was one of four minesweepers in Kola Inlet when a radio message came in that the cruiser HMS Edinburgh had been torpedoed and was trying to reach Murmansk. The Harrier and other minesweepers quickly got under way to help. The little minesweepers just had time to deploy around the Edinburgh when three German destroyers opened fire from a distance. Cdr. Eric Hinton immediately turned Harrier toward the enemy, put on maximum speed, and opened fire with his single four-inch gun. Two British destroyers soon joined him, and, together, they caused the Germans to break off the attack. One of Hinton’s subordinates later wrote: