"Not long after sunrise on a Sunday in December, a pilot guided
a small plane over...the northern tip of Oahu Island...Far above (Pearl
Harbor) the pilot counted eight battleships, the Pacific Fleet's full
complement... The pilot's name was Mitsuo Fuchida...Behind Fuchida, 180
Japanese planes peeled away and dove for Oahu. On the deck of the
Arizona, the men looked up."
So begins Laura Hillenbrand's
account of the attack on Pearl Harbor in her book
Unbroken a
chronicle which she herself describes as "A World War II story of
survival, resilience, and redemption." Though the focus of the book is
not upon December 7 and the attack on Pearl plays a supporting role in
the larger context of the story Hillenbrand relates to her readers, I
can think of no better tribute to the men who were lost 70 years ago
this morning then the story of Olympic runner and WWII Bombardier Louis
Zamperini.
Unbroken is indeed a story
of survival, resilience, and redemption. After missing out on the race
he wanted in the 1936 Olympics in Berlin, Zamperini had set his sights
on Tokyo where he hoped to have a second chance. Fate, the Empire of
Japan, and Nazi Germany conspired against him, however, and his Olympic
dreams came to an abrupt end following the invasions of Poland and China
and subsequent cancellation of the 1940 Olympic Games. As a result of
seeing his dream of running in a second Olympics fade away Zamperini
redirected his passion into the defense of his country and began
training to be a bombardier in the US Army Air Corps. The story of
Unbroken relates
a stirring account of the incredible trials and atrocities that Louie
went on to face, first at the mercy of the Pacific Ocean, and then at
the hands of the Empire of Japan, in particular the merciless and
domineering grasp of Mutsuhiro Watanabe, one of the most notorious of
Japan's war criminals and more commonly identified by his nickname, "The
Bird."
As I read the account of what Louie went through I
was overwhelmed with simultaneous feelings of admiration for Louie and
anger at the Japanese. I would have left the book maintaining this anger
had it not been for the most profound and moving element of Louie's
story, which comes near the end of the book when Louie attends a revival
led by Billy Graham. For years after the war Louie had been consumed by
rage, despair, and a profound passion of vengeance, toward The Bird in
particular. At the close of the sermon Graham gave an altar call and
Louie arose from his seat intending to flee from the tent and wallow in
his anger. Instead, when he reached the aisle he found himself engulfed
in memories and his feet led him, not in retreat, but rather toward the
altar. The following day Louie left home with his old military issue
bible and began reading it while sitting under a tree in a local park.
It was in this moment, combined with his experience the night before,
that the true transformation of the story occurred.
"Resting
in the shade and the stillness, Louie felt profound peace. When he
thought of his history, what resonated with him now was not all that he
had suffered but the divine love that he believed had intervened to save
him. He was not the worthless, broken, forsaken man that the Bird had
striven to make of him. In a single, silent moment, his rage, his fear,
his humiliation and helplessness, had fallen away. That morning, he
believed, he was a new creation."
There was something more
profound, deeper, and more meaningful than pain, loss, and destruction,
and in the end this something more is what came to control the life of
Louie Zamperini.
Louie's story is not unique. There are
many other accounts of hate and misunderstanding resulting from the
Japanese treatment of prisoners during WWII turned into love and
affection through the redemptive power of God's love. Interestingly
these stories are not restricted only to those who suffered at the hands
of the Japanese, but also to the Japanese themselves. One of the most
potent examples is that of the young Japanese Captain mentioned in the
opening lines of this account, the man who was responsible for
the coordination of the entire aerial attack on Pearl Harbor, the man
who gave the command to drop the bombs on that fateful day in December,
Captain Mitsuo Fuchida.
As was the case for many of his
Japanese compatriots, allied outrage concerning the Japanese treatment
of POWs was inexplicable for Fuchida. Under the Bushido code that
typified the Samurai tradition of Japan, revenge toward a captured enemy
was not only permitted, but was a responsibility in order to restore
one's honor. After encountering stories of American kindness toward
captured Japanese soldiers and seeing the anger of the allied nations
toward Japan for their actions during the war, Fuchida embarked on a
journey to try and understand why anyone would treat their enemies with
such love and forgiveness.
This journey ultimately led
Fuchida to a New Testament where he encountered the story of the
crucifixion of Christ. The words Jesus spoke from the cross, "Father,
forgive them, for they know not what they do" (Luke 23:34) arrested his
heart and became the catalyst that would transform his life.
Fuchida
went on to become a Christian evangelist, traveling throughout the
United States to tell the story of a love that has the power to change
human hearts. His forgiveness of his enemies extended so far, in fact,
that he became a United States citizen in 1966. Among the many places
where Fuchida spoke after the war was the Peninsula Bible Church in Palo
Alto, California, where he stayed at the home of Alison's
grandparents.
One of his last actions as president of the
United States was a presidential proclamation, delivered on December 5,
2008 by George W. Bush, authorizing the World War II Valor in the
Pacific National Monument, which encompasses the whole expanse of the
many battles fought between the Americans and Japanese in the Pacific
and includes the final resting place of the USS Arizona in Pearl
Harbor. http://www.nps.gov/valr
The
Arizona remains
the centerpiece of the monument, lying only 25 feet beneath the surface
as an enduring underwater memorial dedicated to the honor and sacrifice
of not only the 1,177 servicemen who went down with her, but all
Americans who fought, suffered, and died in the fight against Japan. To
this day the
Arizona continues to bleed engine oil, a poignant reminder of the blood that was spilled 70 years ago. But the
Arizona,
like Fuchida and Zamperini, is a symbol, not only of pain and death,
but also of new life and transformation. Despite the leaking oil the sea
has taken over the
Arizona, transforming her into an reef
filled with marine life. This great symbol and loss and sacrifice has
become the progenitor of new life and greater purpose.
This
is a day of remembrance for those who paid the ultimate sacrifice 70
years ago this morning, and in the ensuing battle for the soul of the
world. But let us not only remember the pain and the sorrow, but rather
look also to the new life and transformation wrought by love and
forgiveness.
Both Fuchida and Zamperini were men whose
lives were intimately tied to the chaos that reigned in Pearl Harbor.
Each was consumed by hate and a thirst for vengeance, and each was
transformed by the loving power of the cross and forgiveness.
Let
us remember their stories this day and join with them
in partnering with God to bring his kingdom here to earth and bring
about the redemption of his creation.
The mistreatment
Louis Zamperini suffered at the hands of the Japanese meant that he
would never compete in the Olympics again, but it did not mean that he
would not run in them.
In 1998 the Winter Olympics were
held in Nagano Japan. The man selected to run the torch through the
former Japanese POW camp of Naoetsu (one of the most notorious, and the
final location where Louie was imprisoned) was none other than Louis
Zamperini.
"On the morning of January 22, 1998, snow
sifted gently over the village once known as Naoetsu. Louis Zamperini,
four days short of his eighty first birthday, stood in a swirl of white
beside a road flanked in bright drifts...At last it was time. Louie
extended his hand, and in it was placed the Olympic torch. His legs
could no longer reach and push as they once had, but they were still
sure beneath him. He raised the torch, bowed, and began running. All he
could see, in every direction, were smiling Japanese faces. There were
children peeking out of hooded coats, men who had once worked beside the
POW slaves in the steel mill, civilians snapping photographs, clapping,
waving, cheering Louie on, and 120 Japanese soldiers, formed into two
columns, parting to let him pass. Louie ran through the place where
cages had once held him, where a black-eyed man had crawled inside him.
But the cages were long gone, and so was the Bird. There was no trace of
them here among the voices, the falling snow, and the old and joyful
man, running."
http://www.nps.gov/history/history/online_books/npswapa/gallery/album13.htm
