Stories of Faith and Courage from World War II

by Larkin Spivey

  The truth sometimes hurts. It was certainly dismaying to the general to have it thrown in his face. Most of us would probably have been a little more tactful or even supportive of the views of such an exalted leader. This tendency is one of the great problems of anyone in authority, whether in the military, business, church, or family. When approaching the boss, many tend to cushion the bad news or paint a rosier picture than is warranted. Worse still, many leaders consciously or unconsciously promote this kind of behavior. The truth does sometimes hurt. But the truth is necessary for any group to effectively deal with its problems. Facing the truth is even more vital to our individual spiritual health.

  But whoever lives by the truth comes into the light, so that it may be seen plainly that what he has done has been done through God.

  —John 3:21

  April 21

  Red Oak

  By early 1943 the United States had been at war for just over a year. So far on the home front the war was remote and felt mainly as a void, with the absence of many friends, family members, and consumer goods. Little was known about the details of early setbacks in North Africa. The battle for control of the Kasserine Pass in Tunisia was fought in late February and proved disastrous for the Allied forces. There was no inkling of this at home until the Western Union telegrams began to arrive. Particularly hard hit was the little Iowa town of Red Oak, population 5,600.

  On March 6 more than two dozen telegrams arrived, almost at the same time, with the dreaded words: “The Secretary of the Army desires me to express his regret that your son…” A historian described the effect on this small town: On March 11, the Express printed a headline no one could dispute: “SW Iowa Is Hit Hard.” The photographs of missing boys just from Red Oak filled four rows above the fold on page one. “War consciousness mounted hourly in Red Oak, stunned by the flood of telegrams this week,” the article began. The busiest man in town was a boy, sixteen-year-old Billie Smaha, who delivered wires for Western Union. “They kind of dreaded me,” Billie later told the Saturday Evening Post. A New York Herald-Tribune reporter calculated that “if New York City were to suffer losses in the same proportion… its casualty list would include more than 17,000 names.”146

  Red Oak was a microcosm of what was happening across the nation. Instead of an abstraction, war had finally become real. Instead of newsreels of ships and tanks and newspapers with maps and arrows, war had become a matter of dead, wounded, and missing boys. War was finally experienced by the American public for the human disaster that it was then and will always continue to be.

  He makes wars cease to the ends of the earth; he breaks the bow and shatters the spear, he burns the shields with fire. “Be still, and know that I am God.“

  —Psalm 46:9–10

  April 22

  Rite of Purification

  Maj. Gen. Terry Allen was a division commander during the North African campaign. He was third generation Army and raised by his father to be a soldier. The young Allen was “Saddle-hardened before he was ten,” and learned “to ride, smoke, chew, cuss and fight at the earliest possible age.”147 Later on, hard drinking became another characteristic, and this got him into trouble. It came to the attention of Generals Marshall and Eisenhower that the attitude toward alcohol was somewhat loose within Allen’s division and that Allen himself was drinking too much. Allen was warned about the problem and had an encounter with General Patton, who didn’t care for Allen’s rather loose interpretation of uniform regulations.

  As Allen was about to go into battle, he tried to prepare himself by purging some of these stains. He described this in a letter to his wife explaining how he burned various personal records, including the letter in which Marshall had warned him about excessive drinking. By incinerating “all that stuff,” Allen told his wife, he hoped to purge all “rancor or ill-will in my mind or in my heart.” The little fire was like a rite of purification to give himself a clean slate going into combat.148

  This story reminds me of a little ceremony that I once experienced during a regular church service. Each person was asked to write down the one thing that he or she most regretted having done. Later in the service we were invited forward to give these little pieces of paper to God and to throw them into a fire beneath the cross, where they were consumed. This act was to dramatize how God will remove any stain if, through his Son, we confess it and ask for his forgiveness. It was a powerful reminder of God’s grace and of our standing as adopted children in his family. Through Jesus Christ, and him alone, we always have the opportunity to gain a clean slate.

  He forgave us all our sins, having canceled the written code, with its regulations, that was against us and that stood opposed to us; he took it away, nailing it to the cross.

  —Colossians 2:13–14

  April 23

  May I Fulfill My Duty

  Gen. Terry Allen had remarkable success leading two different divisions during World War II. British Field Marshal Sir Harold R. L. G. Alexander called him the “finest divisional commander he had seen in two wars.”149 When asked about the qualities of leadership that won such devotion from his troops, one of his officers replied: “It’s just because he’s so… honest.”150 He was honest about his affection for his men and his desire to keep casualties at a minimum. He knew that the combat infantrymen represented 20 percent of U.S. forces overseas, but suffered 70 percent of the casualties. He was a fierce combat leader, but was ever conscious of his responsibility to the men under him.

  Terry Allen was also devoutly religious and prayed strenuously for his troops before every battle. He contributed the following prayer to the Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Prayer Book:

  May I Fulfill My Duty

  O Jesus, Prince of soldiers, through many terrible days thou hast protected me. For this I thank thee with all my heart but, all the while, I am thinking of the soldiers who fought valiantly with me and fell bravely at my side. Give them rest and peace and the rewards thou hast reserved for the brave. Comfort their loved ones by the sweetness of thy Grace.

  But there are other battles ahead and I feel more than ever the need of being close to thee. However rigorous the task that awaits me, may I fulfill my duty faithfully. Give me strength to lead and inspire my soldiers with daring and courage.

  May our tears and sweat and blood, in this struggle, be acceptable in thine eyes unto the remission of our sins, for the glory of thy Name and for the preservation of our beloved Country. Amen.151

  Now all has been heard; here is the conclusion of the matter: Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man.

  —Ecclesiastes 12:13

  April 24

  Seventeen Minutes

  There are moments when time slows down. Capt. Robert Crisp of the British 3rd Royal Tank Regiment led his squadron of tanks into action near Tobruk in November 1941. The order to advance came at exactly 1:00 p.m., sending his unit into an attack against a German formation about one thousand yards away. After penetrating the enemy position, Crisp had to halt his tank on the edge of a steep embankment where he continued firing.

  Suddenly he was showered with water and realized that the water cans stored on the back of his turret had been hit. Looking back he saw a German anti-tank gun only fifty yards away loading for another shot. He could only stare in amazement as the gun ejected a puff of smoke, and he felt his tank shudder from the hit. He looked down in his turret to see a gaping hole and a wounded gunner. With only seconds before the anti-tank gun could reload, he frantically ordered his driver over the precipice. The tank dropped out of the line of fire and continued down a dry wadi until eventually emerging at a point away from the battle. Crisp recalled later:

  We followed the wadi southwards as it grew shallower, eventually disgorging us unobtrusively on to the plateau over which we had charged so bravely… when? An hour ago? Today? Yesterday? And how many lives ago? My wrist watch was staring me in the face as we paused on the rim of the depression. The hands pointed to 17 minutes past one. 1
7 minutes.152

  I have seen men age years after being under fire for minutes. Time is relative from our human perspective, passing faster or slower in different situations. But what about God’s perspective? We know that God created time itself and is not constrained by it. He lives outside it. The old hymn says it well: “A thousand ages in Thy sight are like an evening gone.”153 If we can keep God’s perspective in mind, the significance of our time on Earth will shrink in comparison with our eternal future.

  He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end.

  —Ecclesiastes 3:11

  April 25

  It Might Have Come Off

  From his new vantage point Captain Crisp looked over a scene of destruction not more than five hundred yards distant. Columns of smoke billowed up from four of his disabled tanks. Three others were immobile and abandoned. A line of German anti-tank guns and their crews lined the drop-off that he had just gone over. Men were running about among the vehicles. He saw groups of his own men herded together by gesticulating Germans. It all made him sick at heart:

  Was there nothing I could do? My mind moved round the prospect of a sudden charge into that line of anti-tank guns, over-running them before they could get their sights on me. If I had had a gunner to fire the Browning, perhaps I might have. As it was I was grateful for the opportunity of rejecting it as impossible, and so prolonging my life and those of my crew. But who knows? It might have come off.154

  I will always remember one notable occasion when I had to make a somewhat similar decision in the heat of combat. Could I take the hill or not? I decided not, undoubtedly saving many lives, not to mention my own. Through the years I have wrestled with my conscience over that decision. I have to admit that I was also grateful for the opportunity of rejecting an action that seemed impossible. I strongly identify with the doubts of this British officer in another war. Since becoming a Christian I have come to believe strongly that God protected me on that day and during many dangerous times when I was not a Christian. This is an essential element of my faith. My spiritual life is motivated by gratitude for his faithfulness in blessing me even while I was blind to him.

  This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins.

  —1 John 4:10

  April 26

  Straightforward Job

  Throughout the war General Eisenhower would be challenged to select and direct the men best suited for command. Having to contend with disparate personalities like Patton, Bradley, Fredenhall, Clark, and Montgomery, his abilities were tested repeatedly. This was especially true in the early stages of the North African campaign when many of these subordinates were unknown quantities. Eisenhower gradually developed his own approach to evaluating those under him. In March 1943 he wrote his son at West Point: “ I have observed very frequently that it is not the man who is so brilliant (who) delivers in time of stress and strain, but rather the man who can keep on going indefinitely, doing a good straightforward job.”155

  This statement is revealing in that it also describes Eisenhower’s own qualities as commander in chief. Early in the war, even though many of his deficiencies were exposed, he was honest with himself and worked methodically to improve. He became more and more effective as he honed his own uncomplicated style and began to focus on simple themes: Allied unity and the certainty of victory.

  Fortunately, God does not always require brilliance from us in service to his kingdom. When we humbly seek to determine his will, we may find times when we are called to great tasks. More often, however, it is the simple work in support of our family, friends, and church that needs to be done with patience and consistency. A dependable, straightforward job is usually the key to pleasing God.

  His work will be shown for what it is, because the Day will bring it to light. It will be revealed with fire, and the fire will test the quality of each man’s work.

  —1 Corinthians 3:13

  April 27

  The Desert

  Alan Moorehead was a renowned war correspondent for the London Daily Express and one of the most successful British writers of World War II. He eloquently described the setting of the war in North Africa:

  Yellow rocks, saltbush, grey earth and this perfect beach was the eternal background wherever you looked in the north of the Western Desert. Except at spots along the coast and far inland it never even achieved those picturesque rolling sandhills which Europeans seem always to associate with deserts. It had fresh colours in the morning, and immense sunsets. One clear hot cloudless day followed another in endless progression. A breeze stirred sometimes in the early morning, and again at night when one lay on a camp bed in the open, gazing up into a vaster and more brilliant sky than one could ever have conceived in Europe… there was a sense of rest and relaxation in the tremendous silence, especially at night, and now the silence is still the best thing I remember of the desert, the silence, the cool nights, the clear hot days and the eternal flatness of everything.156

  When I first read this description, I was impressed with its almost biblical quality. On reflection, this is no accident. The historical events presented in the Bible take place over practically the same desert as the one described here. The desert was not only the scene of many biblical events, it was also a powerful metaphor. Practically surrounding Israel, it was a place of hardship, punishment, and testing. God’s salvation was likened to the gift of water and new life to a parched earth. The desert was a place of special significance to Jesus, where he found respite and a place of blessed solitude. Just like each one of us, he needed alone time, to reflect and to pray, and to renew his relationship with the Father. We should each seek out our own ‘desert time’ in contemplative prayer.

  And he said unto them, Come ye yourselves apart into a desert place, and rest a while: for there were many coming and going, and they had no leisure so much as to eat.

  —Mark 6:31 (KJV)

  April 28

  Greatest Cathedrals

  Chaplains serving in war zones seldom saw the inside of church buildings. A lot of ingenuity was required to get their special work done. One combat chaplain described his places of worship:

  Outdoor Cathedral (National Archives)

  During these months I held services in every conceivable location—on the open deck, in the men’s mess hall, aboard ship, on the cargo hatch of a sunken Liberty ship, aboard a floating pier, ashore, in the open, in the rain, and under tarpaulined shelter… These services were in many ways far more real than those held in the greatest cathedrals.157

  During my military career I marched in countless ceremonies. The ultimate in pageantry was an evening parade under spotlights on the White House lawn. I also vividly recall another parade of the same military format, but devoid of pageantry. On Okinawa, where my Marine ancestors fought during World War II, I marched in a combat review with other Marines about to deploy for combat. This parade featured helmets, packs, weapons, and camouflage. Even though the audience was small, it was one of my most moving experiences.

  The common denominator of these stories is found in the attitude of the participants. When soldiers or saints face the urgency of their mission and realize their vulnerability, their ceremonies become intensely meaningful. At the same time, the outward form loses significance. When we know what we have to do, and we realize that the capacity to do it can only come from God, worship becomes urgent and real. This is the attitude we need every time we come before his altar. It makes no difference whether that altar is in a tent or a cathedral.

  Yet a time is coming and has now come when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for they are the kind of worshipers the Father seeks.

  —John 4:23

  April 29

  Ernie Pyle

  From 1935 until his death on Okinawa in 1945, Ernie Pyle was a roving correspondent for the Scripps Howard newspaper chain. He was never a “bi
g picture” kind of guy. Before the war his stories focused on out-of-the-way places and the people who lived in them. His style had the flavor of personal letters home. During the war he traveled with U.S. forces in just about every theater, and he never changed his approach. Early in the war, United Press writer Reynolds Packard, who considered himself a “more serious” war correspondent, gave him some advice:

  “You’re on the wrong track. Nobody cares about these GI stories you write from the line. You’ve got to learn how to analyze the communiqués that come out of Eisenhower’s headquarters. That’s the secret of being a war correspondent. Figuring out from all that what is really going on.”

  “You’re right, Pack, absolutely right,” said Ernie Pyle miserably. “I’m a lousy correspondent. I know it. I’m trying. Believe me. I’m trying. But I just can’t seem to get that stuff straight.”

  “I know,” said Packard heroically. “It takes a lot of experience.”158

  Pyle may have made a conscientious effort to better understand the “big picture” of politics and strategy, but, fortunately, he continued to focus his stories on the ordinary soldiers fighting the war. He said, “ I love the infantry because they are the underdogs… they have no comforts… and in the end they are the guys that wars can’t be won without. ”159

  When he was killed on Okinawa, the soldiers erected a simple plaque: “ At this spot, the 77th Infantry Division lost a buddy, Ernie Pyle, 18 April 1945.”160 Ernie Pyle’s personal humility and empathy toward others made him a beloved figure to the soldiers he wrote about and to readers in four hundred daily newspapers.