THEN THERE WERE SIX

Rangoon was soon in sight!  We went directly into our bomb run at 21,000 feet.  The ships were flying in an exceptionally tight formation.

The noonday sun was beating in through the window, adding to my discomfort.  I unhooked my special safety harness – a strap that went around my waist and hooked onto the floor of the plane.  If the side blister ever blew out, the strap would keep me in the plane.  I crawled over to the bomb bay hatch for the third time, hopefully the last, and waited for the bombs to be dropped.  I had to let our bombaxlier know, through the intercom, that, after release, all the bombs in the rear bomb bay had fallen and none were hung up.  The bombs hung in the open bomb bays poised and ready __BOMBS AWAY!

The bays were cleared in an instant.  I turned away as I called over my intercom, “All clear.”

Then, suddenly, B-L-A-M!

I couldn’t move.  I was glued to the floor of the plane.  Everything was an eerie red, as if I were looking through a red filter.  The bomb bay hatch had blown open; my hand was bloody, and air was rushing all around.  Moments later, I was able to move more freely, so I fully opened the swinging hatch, and saw that we were in a flat spin with flames and smoke blowing past under the bomb bays.  I looked around and saw Leon turning to get out of his right gunner’s seat.

Easter morning dawned on Sunday April 1, 1945.  After roll call, the guards left the compound without incident.  We went to see our flower…it had blossomed…a white lily, pristine and so beautiful.

Imagine, of all the flowers in the blooming kingdom, why a lily…and a white one at that!  Unbelievable emotion overcame me.  I cut the flower and stem at ground level with my shaving blade and took it to our chaplain, Lt. Lionel Coffin.  He was arranging a makeshift altar for our Easter service on the second floor of our compound.  He took the lily, carefully placed it in a bamboo cup, and set it on the altar: no explanations, just a symbol of hope amid all the suffering.

Nearly 100 men had to gather on the second floor without attracting the attention of the guards.  How were we to accomplish this?  The Japs had made it quite clear that we were not to gather even in small groups…and 100 men is not a small group.  Before we had time to think of a solution, the Jewish prisoners, all twelve of them, quickly offered a solution.  They would make themselves very visible by walking around and climbing up and down outer stairs while we had our Easter service.  The risk of being caught was ever present, and only God knew what the punishment would be.  At the very least it would have been beatings for everyone.  I will never forget their unselfish bravery.

Slowly, we gathered, and as we settled down and waited for the sermon to begin, all eyes went to the altar.  There, in the middle of the crude table, was the lily.  Tears were shed unabashedly.  Thoughts of home engulfed us.  Was this a trick of fate? …Or was it truly a symbol of hope?  Oh, did we pray!