Acts of decency in war
by Stan Lowe, Chairman (retired), Wyoming Veterans’ Commission
It is often said, “War is hell,” and it is.
The loud, deafening explosions, the blood and gore of mutilated bodies and dying men, the screams of pain, the extreme fear that blots out rationality and substitutes instinct for survival.
Despite all of the destruction, mayhem and killing, though, decency occasionally is seen even in the worst wars, which grants a short, blessed relief from their barbarity.
Ordinarily, individual soldiers are the ones who do unexpected acts of decency, but once during World War I, all warring armies’ troops on Europe’s Western Front joined together to stop fighting temporarily to celebrate Christmas in 1914.
Several days before, the Germans, singing carols, erected Christmas trees by their trenches, accumulated lots of beer and Christmas food and shouted across no man’s land, inviting the British and French troops to join them.
Everybody liked the idea, and officers of both sides met and arranged it. The men had a wonderful time. They even played soccer.
Understandably, the armies’ officers had trouble afterward persuading their men to resume shooting at each other.
The book “Flyboys” by James Bradley tells about a very unique individual act of decency prompted by barbarism on a Pacific island north of Iwo Jima called Chichi Jima, which was loaded with communication facilities vital for Japan’s defense.
U.S. Navy bombers made several raids on Chichi Jima. That heavily fortified island’s anti-aircraft guns downed some of the Navy planes, and surviving crewmembers were captured and held as POWs.
Seven were murdered, and their livers were cooked and eaten by Japanese officers supposedly to make them better warriors. One was a pilot named Warren Earl Vaughn.
Before his death, Warren was put to work in a radio station intercepting American broadcasts. He worked with a Japanese soldier, Nobuaki Iwatake, a U.S. citizen drafted into the Japanese Army.
Iwatake, distressed that his friend was cannibalized, vowed to honor Warren’s memory by adopting his name.
Bradley tells of his telephone call to Iwatake in Tokyo for information about Warren. He heard the receiver click, and “from across the Pacific n- as if borne by god winds n- I heard his aged voice. ‘Hello,’ he said, ‘this is Warren.’”
Another individual act of decency happened during World War II’s air war in Europe. A B-17 Flying Fortress piloted by Charlie Brown was in terrible shape from being hit by flak and fighters during a bombing raid over Germany.
Charlie was desperately trying to make it back to the base in England, but the plane’s compass also was damaged, causing it to fly deeper into enemy territory.
After flying over an enemy airfield, a German pilot named Franz Steigler was ordered to take off and shoot it down.
When Franz drew near to the B-17, he couldn’t believe its bad condition. The tail was partially shattered, no left rear wing, nose smashed, holes everywhere, and the tail gunner wounded.
Flying along side the B-17, Franz looked at Charlie, who was scared and struggling hard to control his damaged plane.
Like Gen. Dietrich von Choltitz, German commandant in Paris, who disobeyed Hitler’s order to destroy the city as he withdrew his army when the Allies neared, Franz chose to ignore the order to down the B-17.
Seeing that Charlie had no idea where his plane was headed, Franz waved him to turn around. Then he escorted the stricken plane toward England, stopping at the North Sea.
Saluting Charlie, he turned away, and flew back to Germany.
At headquarters, Franz reported the B-17 was shot down over the sea.
Charlie and his crew told everything at their briefing, but were ordered never to talk about it.
More than 40 years later, Charlie, a resident of Seattle, located Franz in Vancouver, B.C. The two had lived less than 200 miles apart for 50 years!
They met at a 379th Bomber Group reunion. Also attending were 25 people living because Franz chose not to fire his guns that day.