‘The Measure of his Sacrifice’

In this centenary year of the RAF the ringtone on my cell phone is the roar of a Spitfire’s Rolls Royce Merlin engine as it flies by. Its era is before my time but there is much to gain from a look at that period of history. In particular it reminds me of an extract from a letter written by a young pilot to his mother; left in the care of his CO in case he failed to return from a mission. His bomber went down over Belgium as they supported the evacuation of Dunkirk and bought time for the men on the beach. In it he writes “the universe is so vast and so ageless that the life of one man can only be justified by the measure of his sacrifice”. He was 23. 

I wonder how far you would have to walk to meet a young man (or an old one) of such quality; with that kind of wisdom and clarity of thought. Other lines in his letter revealed how he saw the Germans as ‘the greatest organized challenge to Christianity and civilization’ and felt honoured to be part of the RAF and to ‘throw my full weight into the scale’. 

He found his part in the ‘larger story’. He knew he was made for something more than this life; that our life in the flesh is where we prepare for the eternal spiritual life, here we must forge our legacy and our future by sacrificial love. 

What he, and the many other defenders of those traditional values, died for has now been largely swept away. That Christian civilisation that the Nazi’s failed to destroy, successive governments have undermined as public opinion was swayed and the Christian witness was muted. 

Recent anti-Christian developments include the insistence on Catholic adoption agencies to allow gay couples to adopt children or close down altogether and now I understand that praying and counselling outside abortion clinics may be prohibited by law soon. Now the enemy is no longer a hostile nation but a godless generation. 

Many thought it wise to compromise or collaborate with Hitler, as was seen in France with the Vichy government, and perhaps there are those who try to do likewise here with the new regime too, compromising beliefs for a quiet life without confrontation. 

But our only course can be to stand firm and fight on against these and the future attacks on the heart of Christian civilisation which is the family. Christians who don’t compromise or collaborate will find themselves in conflict with these new ‘values’ that we have allowed to gain traction. 

What legacy will we leave, what will be the measure of this Catholic generation’s sacrifice? Perhaps another old soldier can lend his counsel from beyond the grave “Never, never, never, never—in nothing, great or small, large or petty—never give in... Never yield to force. Never yield to the apparently overwhelming might of the enemy.” (Churchill) 

(reference :- Flight Officer Rosewarne's letter)

On a wing and a prayer

A teacher tells how a salesman called to her school. When he produced his pen, she noticed that a Rosary beads had got caught onto the pens clip and came out as well. “you must be a Catholic” she remarked. “Not really” he said “but a lot of us owe our lives to Our Lady, and I promised her I would always keep my Rosary with me and say it everyday.

The story that unfolded ran: it was September 1940 when we joined the air force. At Halifax we were given an intensive training course because we were needed overseas. We were grouped into squadrons each of which consisted of 6 to 10 planes and each was trained to manoeuvre as a unit. About 30-50 men made up a squadron. They told us that we were going overseas and would be in action right away. We would be on nightly missions over enemy territory.

We eagerly awaited our new squadron leader. As an officer he would, we believed, go straight to the officers quarters. However, this one, Stan Fulton, in full uniform, headed for our bunk house, where he settled in with the rest of us, saying “ There’s a free bunk and I am tired ! I’ll meet each of you tomorrow”.

With that, he threw his bag on an upper bunk. Our squadron leader, an officer, sleeping here with us ! We liked him at once and our admiration grew each day. That first night he knelt on the floor and prayed his Rosary in silence. Astounded we were struck dumb. When he finished he looked at us his friendly smile and said “I hope you guys don’t find a fellow saying some prayers because where we are going we’re going to need them”.

Next day at manoeuvre practice, we found that Fulton was not just our military leader, but our friend. He was one of us. He never tried to intimidate with his rank. Next night, he repeated his prayer session. Although our group had been together for 6 months, I had never seen anyone kneel in prayer, and had no idea that any of our group was Catholic.

The third night 3 of our companions joined Fulton in praying the Rosary. The rest of us did not understand, but we kept a respectful silence. We weren’t slow however on the pick-up. Soon we were all answering the Hail Mary’s and Our Father’s. So, we ended each day in prayer.

Soon enough we were to begin a series of night raids from England over Germany. The evening before, Fulton gave each one of us a Rosary “we shall be in some tight situations, but if you agree to keep the rosary with you and to pray it, I promise you that Our Lady will bring you all back safe”.

“Sure thing” we replied, little thinking we would be in action for 4 years, often in dreadful danger. At such times, Fulton’s voice would ring through each plane “Hail Mary…” and we would devoutly respond ! We must have said hundreds of Rosaries in the skies.
Ours, was the only squadron that did not lose a plane or a single life. We said nothing, but we treasured our secret weapon and knew Our Lady had saved us all