D-Day, June 6, 1944

Thinking about, and writing about, past wars is difficult for me. I am, by all accounts, a pacifist. Now, I am not the 1960’s hippie version, sitting around a campfire smoking weed and singing “Kumbaya,” but never-the-less, I just do not see any sense defending war. I believe that I stand in the best tradition of my forefathers in making that stand. I believe with all my heart that Jesus taught peace making and self-less surrender over taking up arms. Maybe I just missed the verse that says that we should love our enemy, but yet spend billions of dollars inventing ways to blow him and his children to oblivion.

On the other hand, the Bible speaks just as clearly regarding defending the weak, and standing up for those who have no voice. So, while I struggle mightily with the concept of an offensive fighting force, I honestly have no problem with maintaining a defensive force, so long as there is a bright line dividing what is an offensive and a defensive military confrontation. So, in my mind, the last truly defensible war the United States has fought was World War II. (Word of explanation here: you cannot defend a war using the “just war” defense, if there was no war declared. No military action  whether it be Korea, Viet Nam, Desert Storm, or any other “operation” since WW II, was officially declared by the President or Congress as a “War,” and therefore, cannot be defended using the “just war” precepts.)

World War II was, in my opinion, the last time our nation has correctly applied the concepts of a “just war.” The definition of a just war varies depending on who is making the distinction, but most definitions include having a definable goal, avoiding civilian casualties to the best of an army’s ability, the clear declaration of a war on a legal basis, and the humane treatment of captured enemy soldiers. Even in WWII the lines were blurred, as the fire-bombing of Dresden was unconscionable.

All of that was a long pre-amble to this: today, June 6, is the anniversary of perhaps the greatest single effort to liberate a conquered continent in the history of mankind. Thousands of allied soldiers died in just a few hours that morning, as well as even more thousands of German soldiers. What I have learned over the past few days is that even more French civilians died during the invasion and weeks following!! June 6, 1944 was literally the turning point in the war in Europe, and without the sacrifices paid that day, Europe would have never been freed from Nazi control. The hundreds of graves in the cemeteries of the Allied soldiers, and even those graves in which the soldiers of Germany lie, are a testament to the brutality and inhumanity of man.

World War I was supposed to be the war to end all wars. Then there was World War II. Then there was the Korean “conflict” and the Viet Nam “police action.” And then there was “operation” Desert Shield, Desert Storm, Enduring Freedom – the names are a mockery of the English language.

I believe that the United States was right to come to the defense of England, Europe, and China in the 1940’s. I also believe (and believe it has been well proven) that with the proper intervention, World War II should never have happened. Political and diplomatic opportunities abounded, but isolationist policies and a resolute refusal for the Christian Church to oppose both Adolf Hitler and Emperor Hirohito spelled disaster for the European continent, and most of the Pacific rim nations. Even after the hostilities began, had the Church been more aggressive in pressing for diplomatic overtures, the resistance in Germany would have eliminated Hitler, and thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands, of lives would have been saved.

So, I honor those men and women who sacrificed their lives this day 75 years ago. They must never be forgotten. I doubt this world will ever see such courage again – at least not on the scale exhibited that day.

And I fervently pray that no generation will ever again be asked to liberate another continent from a depraved, maniacal, despot. May we learn, somehow and for all time, the skills necessary to solve our disagreements around a conversation table, and not over a battlefield.

June 6, 1944

There is a beautiful phrase in the book of Hebrews, tucked neatly in the author’s paean to those heroes of faith so vast that he could not name them. He wrote, as the section drew to its close, “. . . of whom the world was not worthy.”

On this, the anniversary of the great allied invasion of Normandy, I cannot help but meditate on that phrase.

I think of the thousands of young lives lost that day – American, British, Canadian (and others) – on the sea and in the air. I think of their resolute composure. They were not fearless – but they overcame their fear with the realization that their mission, what they were tasked to do, was so much more honorable than the goal of their enemy that they set aside their fear in order to meet the challenge.

“. . . of whom the world was not worthy.”

I think of the commanders, those in the field and those well behind the lines. They knew the losses would be catastrophic. Maybe they were not fully aware of the carnage that would meet the Americans on Utah beach, but they knew General Rommel was in charge of the defenses. I cannot imagine the weight that rests upon the shoulders of a man who must send other men into the face of withering gun fire or anti-aircraft shells. I wonder about their conscience. They were tasked with a mission, and the mission would cost lives. Many lives. What goes through the mind of a man who looks into the eyes of young men who, within a few short hours, will offer the greatest sacrifice?

“. . . of whom the world was not worthy.”

I think of the medics and the chaplains who tried to save the wounded and who gave comfort to the dying. What do you say to a young boy from Kansas who, up until a few days ago, had never seen an ocean and now, thousands of miles away from home, will never see another wheat field? How do you give spiritual comfort in a battlefield that resembles the mouth of hell?

“. . . of whom the world was not worthy.”

I think of those who piloted the transport craft ferrying the soldiers to the beaches, and the airplane pilots who carried the paratroopers over the drop zones. Many of them would not survive either. The C-47 drop planes were supposed to bring their planes over the drop zones at 1,000 feet. For those who do not understand, in terms of firing anti-aircraft guns 1,000 feet is the equivalent of a knife fight. Yet, many would make the same trip, over water and through the air, ferrying soldiers, retrieving wounded, and dropping supplies.

“. . . of whom the world was not worthy.”

I question whether the United States could win another such war. I do not doubt our soldiers and sailors one little bit. I stand in awe of their willingness to serve, even if I deeply question the civilian commanders who blindly and stupidly send them into battle. But I simply do not believe in the moral fabric of our American culture anymore. We are a nation of narcissists and cowards. We hide behind our “rights” and our “freedoms” and we no longer have the strength as a people to shoulder our responsibilities. A pathetic little coward who cannot even stand on two feet during the playing of the national anthem is regarded as being “brave” and a “hero” by many. His disrespect for those who have served this country and have given him the freedom to spout his hatred is beyond repugnant – but such is the time in which we live.

Cowardice is called bravery, hatred is called love; respect is called bigotry.

When the United States collapses (when, not if), will we look back on those young men who gave their lives on June 6, 1944 as the high point of our civilization?

“. . . of whom the world was not worthy.”

I try to honor the sacrifice of those young men every day, by living according to the highest standards given to us in Scripture. I know I fail all too often – but their memory still haunts me.

May we all aspire to live lives worthy of their sacrifice. May their deaths not be in vain.

How to be Remembered

Once upon a time I was asked how I wanted to be remembered. I was flummoxed. It was not the first, nor the last, time I was speechless, but the experience was unnerving. I still remember how uncomfortable I was, and that feeling still remains today. How do you want to be remembered?

So, I was reading in Eberhard Bethge’s magisterial biography of Dietrich Bonhoeffer the other day, and I found it. I found the sentence that describes perfectly how I want to be remembered. It was penned by Bishop George K.A. Bell, Bonhoeffer’s friend and confidant during the stressful years of the church struggle, and later during Bonhoeffer’s dangerous work with the German intelligence agency and his connection with those who were conspiring to get rid of Adolph Hitler. Bell wrote in a 1948 forward to Bonhoeffer’s book, Discipleship:

He was crystal clear in his convictions; and young as he was, and humble-minded as he was, he saw the truth, and spoke it with a complete absence of fear.

(Eberhard Bethge, Dietrich Bonhoeffer: a Biography, rev. ed. p. 362)

Now, that is how to be remembered.

April 9, a Day of Infamy

Many people remember December 7, 1941 as a “Day of Infamy” from President Roosevelt’s speech to congress declaring war on Japan. Actually, there were a number of “days of infamy” related to World War II, and April 9 rates very high on that list.

As I will be busy this coming Sunday, I wanted to get this post in before something happened and I failed to mention this anniversary. April 9, 2017 will be the 72nd anniversary of the murder of Dietrich Bonhoeffer. He was sentenced to die by Adolf Hitler because of his links to the many conspirators who attempted to assassinate Hitler. In many ways, however, he went to the gallows in the Flossenburg concentration camp because of his Christian convictions.

The narrative of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Hans von Dohnanyi, General Hans Oster, Admiral Walter-Wilhelm Canaris, and many, many others stands as a stark reminder to those today who put their hope, and trust, in a human leader. The relative peace and security of the past couple of decades has numbed us to the reality that evil lurks deep in the hearts of mankind, and all it takes is a little crack in the foundation to allow that evil to escape.

April 9, 1945 was a day of infamy, as were so many other days during that dark time. It is good that we stop and remember those days, and offer a prayer that we never see their likes again.

Requiescat in pace, Dietrich Bonhoeffer.