Chip Bork was on his second strafing run trying to knock out a German tank when “all hell broke loose.” Ground fire ripped through his P-47 fighter, wounding him severely and starting a fire in the cockpit. In a state of shock and semiconsciousness, he was only vaguely aware of the next few moments. His first clear recollection was a loud pop as he looked up to see his parachute open above him and himself floating free of his spiraling aircraft.
Later, witnesses helped him piece together what happened. When the fire started he turned his plane upside down, unlatched and opened the canopy. He unfastened his seat belt and pushed the stick forward to safely bail out. Then he pulled the rip cord to deploy his chute. He remembered none of this. He was thankful that he had his Catechism and Prayer Book in his pocket at the time, and felt that it was “a miracle that I survived.” He was also thankful for the training that had prepared him for this moment:
I would quarrel about doing certain things over and over, things that I felt I already knew how to do, but my instructor insisted that I do them again just to make sure that I understood and got it right. I have often thought back to the day when I was shot down over St. Lo, and the sub-conscious actions I took to save my life in that emergency situation. I must give credit to heroes of mine, those very farsighted Pilot Training Instructors, for the grueling and repetitive training they put me through. I shall never forget them.289
This story is a tribute to demanding teachers everywhere. I have the same affectionate respect for my high school algebra teacher, Mr. S. L. Lemmon. He was the toughest teacher I ever had. Under his wary eye generations of students did the hard, repetitive work necessary for a solid grounding in algebra. We are blessed to have educators who set high standards and who have the moral courage to hold themselves and their students to them. Such teachers are surely doing God’s work in this world and richly deserve our appreciation.
Not many of you should presume to be teachers, my brothers, because you know that we who teach will be judged more strictly.
July 23
A World War II pilot told a sad story about a member of his squadron. He called him Captain “Johnson” for sake of anonymity. This man suffered extensive injury from a bad parachute landing when his aircraft was shot down on a bombing mission over Germany. With sixty-two missions to his credit, he only needed three more to go home. However, he refused to fly again. This became a source of great controversy within the squadron where most felt that, “If I have to fly, then he has to fly.” This festered for a while until one day he was gone.
Fifteen years later the squadron had a reunion, and our storyteller relates what happened when a certain member appeared:
Who should walk in but our old friend Captain Johnson. No one spoke to him. Many just turned their backs on him. I felt sorry for him. But while we were risking our necks over Germany and losing good men, he was curled up and whining under a blanket. He flew with us, but not a single man considered him to be one of us.290
I understand the attitude of these airmen who served their country so honorably, and I intend no criticism of them. They earned the right to feel how they felt. I relate this story simply to illustrate the contrast between the value systems of our world and that of God’s kingdom. In this world Captain Johnson flew sixty-two missions, fell apart, and became an outcast. In the world of our Savior, Jesus Christ, he could have done the wrong thing sixty- two times and still have had a way to reclaim his status as “one of us.” Repentance would be required, but forgiveness would be certain.
Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, “Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Up to seven times?” Jesus answered, “I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.”
July 24
The mission was a navigator’s nightmare. The bombing run to Karlsruhe should have been an eight-hour trip, but bad weather forced the formation to make frequent course changes. Frank Federici was lead navigator for a flight of six B-24s and felt that they were “touring Germany.” By the time they were over the target he was hearing complaints from the other aircraft that fuel and oxygen were in short supply.
At this point Federici recommended a complete departure from the planned route that had been ordered for the mission. He took his lead aircraft down to an altitude of 500 feet and headed straight for home base, ignoring orders. At such low altitude he had to do the navigating job of his life. Cloud formations required constant maneuvering and new sets of calculations for each course change. He said later, “I could have used one hundred twenty seconds in a minute instead of sixty!”291
Federici reached his base in England with ten minutes fuel to spare. However, instead of congratulations, he and his pilot received reprimands for violating their orders. He was almost too tired to care:
I decided that sleep was more important (than eating) and started walking in the snow toward our Quonset hut. As I walked toward the hut, I was tempted numerous times to lie in the snow and go to sleep. However, I continued to walk to the hut, when suddenly I was confronted by another navigator who caught up to me and said, “Thanks a lot, Frank.” He was one of the navigators in an aircraft flying in our six-ship formation back to base. I have considered his “thank you” as the greatest compliment received during my seventy-nine years! He was thanking me for saving his life.292
To have your work judged positively by someone you respect is one of life’s great rewards. We should also remember, however, that our work can have eternal consequences as well. Although our salvation in Jesus Christ is guaranteed, when our work for him is judged worthy, we will be rewarded. Someday, every one of us will want to hear our Savior say, “Well done, good and faithful servant” (Matthew 25:21, 23).
The fire will test the quality of each man’s work. If what he has built survives, he will receive his reward. If it is burned up, he will suffer loss; he himself will be saved, but only as one escaping through the flames.
July 25
After the Battle of Britain, Royal Air Force Spitfires and Hurricanes were usually employed as escorts for
