The Chaplain’s Cross

Chaplain Jim Russell feels God is leading him to fly as an observer on a combat mission with the men of the 307th Bomb Group, a B-24 heavy bomber group charged with leading the daylight attacks on the Japanese stronghold at Truk Atoll. As the twenty-four heavy bombers began their takeoff roll down the runway the early morning of 29 March 1944, the reality of what he volunteered for strikes him. Russell hears every word the pilots speak, the rumble of the engines. He smells the leather of the jackets the men wear, the aviation fuel that powers the B-24’s engines, the oil that lubricates all the moving parts, and the sweat coming from his body and the others. His throat is dry. This is real. While he doesn’t know a thruster from a flap or a turn indicator from an oil gauge, he believes in the men who fly this airplane. Oh God, keep me safe. Keep me safe. Russell’s knees and hands shake as the pilots rev up the engines until it seems the four spinning propellers will break loose from whatever keeps them in place. As the vibrations increase, he catches a brief glimpse of his fellow chaplain, Bob O’Leary, who stands near the end of the runway, his black chaplain’s sash blowing in the ferocious wind kicked up by the whirling propellers as he prays for the men who are about to take to the air. And just when he seems to Russell the plane will split apart from all the noise and shaking, Captain Thompson, the pilot, releases the brakes, allowing the metal monster to begin its sprint down the runway. As their speed increases, the thumping sound made by the tires striking the steel planking of runway becomes less noticeable, the end of the runway with its unforgiving water barrier drawing ever closer. And when it doesn’t seem possible to the chaplain they will get off the ground, Thompson muscles the steering column back into his chest all while singing “Off We Go into the Wild Yonder” in a clear lusty baritone. This is a combat mission, the results of which will bring death to men on both sides of this battle, each believing they are on the right side of the conflict. Casting his eyes outside the aircraft, the chaplain does not see any bands playing John Phillip Sousa marches. No Stars and Stripes Forever. No Washington Post March. No pretty girls waving their goodbyes or blowing kisses. Russell quickly looks at the men nearest him, sensing their excitement and their anxiety, coupled with a sense of pride all wrapped in an abundance of raw courage, each man with an overwhelming desire to not let his fellow crewmen down. These men do not need bands or pretty girls to encourage them to fight. They fight for each other. Closing his eyes, Chaplain Russell puts himself in God’s hands, praying over and over. God help us all. Give us courage to complete our task. We love you Lord. Oh sweet and Holy Jesus, be with us now. Be with us now. **** Eight hundred miles away at the Shinto Shrine near Eten Airfield, the B-24s’ target, Captain Takeo Hiromasa, the commander of the more than seventy-five fighter Japanese aircraft on Truk, prays once more to his gods. He had not planned to come to the shrine this morning, yet something inside him draws him here. His habit of worshiping and praying to his gods over the years had been intermittent at best, long absences between visits more his pattern. So whatever spirit led him here today, it is a most unusual one. He prays that his gods will deliver the Americans bombers into his hands today so he can avenge his brother’s death by getting revenge upon the American airmen who killed him, but like so many other days, there seems to be no indication that his gods are listening. Why won’t you respond to my pleas? Why won’t you make your presence known? I need your strength, your guidance. Is all we have done, all that we have sacrificed for, been in vain? Give me a sign – something – that tells me you are still with us, with me. After ten minutes of waiting for some discernible sign from any of his gods, Hiromasa leaves the shrine unfilled. With a clear conscience, believing he has given his gods every opportunity to speak to him, he heads toward the airfield to do his duty. His final prayer is that in the fight to come, he will be strong and courageous. **** God brings these two men together in the blue skies over the Pacific that fateful day.