It was December 20, 1943, just five days before Christmas, and the 21 year-old pilot of American B-17F bomber Ye Olde Pub, First Lieutenant Charles “Charlie” Brown, was desperately trying to keep his heavily damaged plane aloft in the skies over Germany.
As recently chronicled in the 2012 award winning book, “A Higher Call” by Adam Makos (with Larry Alexander), the Pub had just completed its bombing run of a Focke-Wulf airplane manufacturing plant in the German city of Bremen, but it was attacked by a swarm of Messerschmitt fighter planes, as well as ground based anti-aircraft guns. The crew fought back as best they could, and even shot down one of the German fighters, but they clearly absorbed the worst of the fight. The bomber’s nose, wings, and fuselage were riddled with gaping holes, and it was leaking oil and hydraulic fluid. Half of its rudder was missing, and one of its engines was out. When Brown asked for a damage report, one of the crew replied, “We’re chewed to pieces.”
Nearly half the members of the Pub’s crew were wounded, their blood splattered throughout the interior of the bomber. The ball turret gunner, Hugh “Ecky” Eckenrode, was dead, his body slumped over the machine gun. His dripping blood formed icicles in the freezing air that now rushed in through the shattered turret’s Plexiglas.
At one point, Brown told his crew that he was going to try to fly the damaged bomber back to England, but he gave them the option to bail out while they were still flying over land. They all decided to stay with their commander. Brown knew that their chances of making it back were slim, but he still had hope.
As the bomber limped towards the North Sea, a dark shape just off the right wing of the B-17 caught Brown’s attention. He looked through the cockpit window and was terrified by what he saw. It was a German Messerschmitt Bf-109 fighter plane, piloted by Luftwaffe ace Franz Stigler. The fighter plane was so close that Brown could clearly see Stigler’s face. The co-pilot of the B-17, Spencer ”Pinky” Luke, said, “My God, this is a nightmare.” Brown responded, “He’s going to destroy us.”
When Stigler initially encountered the B-17, he was prepared to fire. He was not only just one more air victory from qualifying for the prestigious Knight’s Cross, but Stigler also sought vengeance for his older brother August, who had been killed earlier in the war.
But as he closed on the stricken bomber and surveyed the damage, he couldn’t believe that it was still flying. Stigler could clearly see the dead tail gunner and his blood stained jacket. The holes in the fuselage were so large that he could even see the Pub’s crew caring for the wounded.
Stigler, a Catholic who once studied to be a priest, placed his hand on his jacket pocket and felt the rosary beads that were inside. His thoughts turned to his brother, and he also remembered the words of his former commander, legendary German Luftwaffe fighter ace Gustav Rodel, who once told him: “You follow the rules of war for you — not your enemy. You fight by rules to keep your humanity.” Stigler decided that he could not shoot and “would not have this on my conscience for the rest of my life.”
Stigler pulled up alongside the bomber and tried to get Brown’s attention. He was waving his hands and mouthing the word “Sweden” in an attempt to get the American pilot to land his severely damaged aircraft there, as Sweden was a neutral country and only 30 minutes away. But Brown and Luke couldn’t understand what Stigler was doing. They still thought that he was going to attack, and were determined to go down fighting. Brown ordered one his gunners to prepare to fire.
Finally realizing that the Americans would never understand, Stigler saluted Brown and said “Good luck, you’re in God’s hands.” Brown was puzzled, and the image of Stigler saluting him before he peeled away stayed with him for the rest of his life.
Fortunately, the crew of Ye Olde Pub made it back to England that day and survived the remainder of the war. Brown eventually married, raised two daughters, and worked for the State Department for many years before retiring to Florida. But that day in 1943 always haunted him. In the 1980’s, Brown started to have nightmares about the incident, and decided to try and find the German pilot. He diligently searched military records, attended pilot reunions, and placed an ad in a newsletter for former German WW II pilots with the story of what happened.
Stigler, who moved to Canada in 1953, saw the ad and sent Brown a letter in 1990, letting him know that he was the German pilot who spared his crew. As Brown read the letter, tears streamed down his cheeks. When the two finally met in a Florida hotel lobby, they embraced and wept.
Franz and Charlie became great friends, went on fishing trips together, attended military reunions together, and spoke at schools and other events. Charlie even organized a reunion of the crew of Ye Olde Pub that was featured in a CBS This Morning segment in which a video was played for Franz showing pictures of the children and grandchildren of the crew. The message to Franz was obvious, and he broke down in tears. “The war cost him everything,” Makos said. “Charlie Brown was the only good thing that came out of World War II for Franz. It was the one thing he could be proud of.”
Franz Sigler died in March 2008, and Charlie died just 8 months later. Franz once gave Charlie a book with a note he had written on the inside cover, and his words not only reveal his love for Charlie, but also serve as a reminder to all of us of the true meaning of Christmas:
In 1940, I lost my only brother as a night fighter. On the 20th of December, 4 days before Christmas, I had the chance to save a B-17 from her destruction, a plane so badly damaged it was a wonder that she was still flying. The pilot, Charlie Brown, is for me, as precious as my brother was. Thanks Charlie.
Your Brother,
Franz
AFTERWORD
A friend of mine, Pat Mundy, gave me the book, “A Higher Call”, and said “You must read this book. It’s an amazing story and right up your alley.” Pat was right. It truly is a fantastic book that chronicles one of the most incredible war stories I’ve ever come across. An e-mail I received from an Inquirer reader eloquently captured my feelings about the bond shared by Charlie and Franz, as well as my hopes for all of humanity: “Your essay reminds us of our immense capability for love and compassion, but also of our immense capability for savagery, a duality recognized by Abraham Lincoln in his first inaugural address: ‘We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory will swell when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.’ Here’s hoping the ‘better angels of our nature’ prevail for all in the coming year. Merry Christmas.”
More stories of World War II veterans, as well as veterans of World War I and the Korean War, can be found in the new book by Philadelphia writer, Chris Gibbons: “Soldiers, Space, and Stories of Life”. Amazon.com link is below: