One summer while on vacation, I saw an advertisement that a restored B-52 bomber plane from World War II would be on display at the local airport. I always wondered about these historic planes, so I was thrilled to have the opportunity to actually climb inside an aircraft used in battle over 50 years ago.
The interior was cramped, and the floor opened up on either side of a narrow walkway to let bombs drop. I could only imagine terrified young men standing there, gripping machine guns, while pilots dive bombed over cities and the countryside.
My appreciation grew by leaps and bounds through interviews I've had with veterans over the years. I didn't think it would be possible for my admiration for those men and women to grow.
Until I read "Unbroken" by Laura Hillenbrand.
"Unbroken" chronicles the life of Louis Zamperini. A rebellious young scamp, Zamperini was on his way to the 1936 Berlin Olympics, fit and talented enough to break the four-minute mile, when World War II erupted.
Zamperini joined the Air Corps and soon found himself right in the middle of the fighting. In May, 1943, he and a crew took off on a troublesome B-24 plane. Over the Pacific Ocean, the plane failed and smashed into the waters.
Thus began Zamperini's first ordeal – floating aimlessly on the ocean for 47 days, fighting off vicious sharks and starvation. When he and two of his comrades were picked up by the enemy, he weighed 67 pounds.
But that wasn't the worst. Zamperini was taken to a Japanese prisoner of war camp where he was beaten, starved and tortured for almost two years. He suffered through dysentery, malnutrition and seeing his friends and comrades brutally murdered and tortured.
The worst, though, was Mutsuhiro Watanabe "The Bird," a savage, brutal Japanese guard who seemed to take pleasure in torturing all the prisoners but none more so than Zamperini.
"The Bird" not only beat the former Olympian but delighted in making Zamperini's life as miserable as possible, both physically and mentally.
But Zamperini did not let "The Bird" break him, refusing to bow, even when The Bird repeatedly smashed him in the head with a metal belt buckle. Zamperini refused to give up when he was transferred to another POW camp and found out The Bird had transferred as well.
But the hate Zamperini had for that guard kept him going; and he vowed if he ever got out of the camp, he'd kill him with his bare hands. When the Allies freed the prisoners, Zamperini – disease-ridden, weak and malnourished – was elated but never forgot the evil Japanese guard.
For years, constant thoughts of killing The Bird drove him to drink and almost lose his wife and family. It wasn't until 1949 when he reluctantly attended a Billy Graham revival that Zamperini was able to finally let go of that burning hatred.
Zamperini subsequently opened the nonprofit Victory Boys Camp, a place that helped lost boys. At night, he'd sit around a campfire, telling the boys about the war and how he finally achieved inner peace. He also traveled the world, speaking about his experiences and receiving awards and honors.
In his 60's Zamperini was still giving speeches. In his 70's, he was still running. When he was in his 80's, he was skateboarding. And when he was in his 90's, he was skiing down mountains – always with a smile on his face.
One of the greatest moments of Zamperini's life came in 1998 when he was asked to carry the Olympic torch through the streets of Nagano, Japan, the site of that hellish POW camp. His journey had evolved from despair into tranquility.
Zamperini's words to Hillenbrand and ultimately her readers reflect what I've heard in the quiet voices of veterans I've had the privilege of interviewing.
They survived because they chose to bend, not break.
This article was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.
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