Earlier this month, on Fast Sunday, a brother in my ward stood in Sacrament Meeting to share his testimony (sharing is best, that way you don't have to decide whether to "bare" or "bear" your testimony, and you certainly don't want to "bury" it). Anyway, this gentleman shared an incredible story.
He was up in Idaho at a meeting where World War II veterans were talking about experiences they had during the war. One vet had been a prisoner of war in a Japanese POW camp, and one morning he decided that he was just too tired to get up and face the day. The Japanese had not signed the Geneva Convention on the treatment of prisoners of war and, therefore, did not feel bound by its requirements for humane treatment of prisoners, including the providing of sufficient food and decent medical care.
At the same time, the Japanese forced prisoners to do manual labor under brutal task masters and guards. In Thailand, the Japanese forced prisoners of war and civilians to build a railway through the jungle and over mountains to Burma -- 250 miles from Bangkok to Rangoon. Of 180,000 civilians pressed into labor on the railroad, around 90,000 died. Of 60,000 allied prisoners of war, 16,000 perished, including 6,318 British personnel, 2,815 Australians, 2,490 Dutch, about 356 Americans and a smaller number of Canadians and New Zealanders.
Faced with physically demanding work, with little food and almost no medical care, many prisoners reached the point where they simply could not go on. "It was usually apparent when a man was preparing himself to die," wrote James D. Hornfischer in his book, Ship of Ghosts, about the heavy cruiser USS Houston (CA-30) and her survivors, many of whom worked on the railway in Thailand. "Often," continued Hornfischer, "he would stop eating. Sometimes he would announce his despair to the world."
"They'd tell you, 'I'm finished. I'm gone,'" said John Wisecup, a Houston survivor. The men who died did so out of despair. "They died," wrote Hornfischer, "in a dissociating madness, protesting their circumstances then shutting themselves down like zombies."
Returning to the veteran, telling his story at a meeting somewhere in Idaho, he explained that he wished the guards would shoot him and end his misery. But, suddenly, two "wacko" Mormons came over to him and gave him a blessing. They blessed him that he would get through the day, and this man soon felt the strength to do just that. Then the two Mormons went off to give blessings to other prisoners, even going to other buildings in the camp, despite the risk of being caught by the guards. All of the prisoners who received blessings got through the day, and many survived the war to return home.
The veteran telling the story gave the name of one of the Mormons who had given him a blessing, and the brother from my ward recognized the name. As it turned out, one of the two who had given blessings to the prisoners was the uncle of this gentleman from my ward. He went to see his uncle, and there heard the rest of the story.
The uncle had not been particularly serious about his religion, yet he had received the priesthood. Because he had been less than faithful, he was surprised that morning in the POW camp to be awakened by the Spirit and given the names of men who needed blessings. He sneaked out of his building to another where he got the second Mormon. He said they were guided by the Spirit as they moved from building to building. They were not caught, and, as noted above, every man who received a blessing lived through the day.
Most, perhaps even all, of those who received blessings were not members of the LDS church, and one of the men sent to bless them had been, as we would say today, less active in the church. We are all, member and non-member alike, children of a loving Heavenly Father who is mindful of each of us and the circumstances in which we find ourselves. Anyone of us may be sent to bless the lives of others, to be an instrument in the Lord's hands.
One of the things I like about history is that I can find people who have experienced difficulties far in excess of anything I have experienced. I have a nephew serving his mission in Thailand, and I told him that at those times when he might feel discouraged he should think of those men who built the railway. There are lessons that we might learn from them.
"Suffer is a dangerous word here just now," said Ray Parkin, another Houston survivor, "it can induce self-pity. Endure is a better word, it is not so negative. Enduring can give aim, a sense of mastery over circumstance. I have seen so much self-conscious suffering and men dying from self-pity."
Jim Gee told his friend, Howard Charles, "Look Charlie, your mind is like the muscle in your arm. Either you use it or it gets flabby and useless." Gee then told Charles "There are three forces at work here. Like the legs of a triangle. First, food. Either we have enough or we're dead. Second, health. That needs no explanation. Third, attitude, which is probably the best medicine. Food, health, attitude. They're interlocked, each totally dependent on the other. We have to have all three. No food, no health. Bad attitude: the triangle collapses."
Frank Fujita, also a Houston survivor, was at some point sent to Japan where, in the midst of his ordeal, he kept an unshakably positive attitude. "I find beauty in everything, even in death, you know," said Fujita. "I always find something that's worthwhile. And even when were were starved to death -- most of us down to eighty or ninety pounds or walking skeletons - then instead of me sitting around thinking how horrible a shape we were in and 'Oh, woe is me,' I thought this was an absolutely marvelous opportunity to study anatomy."
Ray Parkin added, "There is a lot to grumble about; a lot to be disappointed about; a lot to lose our tempers over; but there is also much to marvel at. For instance, the loyalty of a man's body -- to watch a sore heal itself -- to feel that pain is not so much a tragedy but a process. There is fascination in trying to help it consciously, to try to break down any internal resistance to recovery by trying to quell devastating emotions like bad temper, hatred, fear, lust, envy."
As Hornfischer put it, "There was enough of an enemy in nature. There was no need to allow a psychological fifth column to form up from within."
Once, during the Second World War, Henry Stimson, FDR's Secretary of War, caustically said, "The Navy Department frequently seemed to retire from the realm of logic into a dim religious world in which Neptune was God, Mahan his prophet, and the U. S. Navy the only true church." Alfred Thayer Mahan wrote an influential book in the late nineteenth century titled The Influence of Seapower upon History, 1660-1783, plus many other writings on the subject of naval warfare. Perhaps the second most influential American historian on seapower was Samuel Eliot Morison, who wrote a 15 volume history of U.S. naval operations during World War II. Morison also wrote an abridged, single volume history which he titled The Two Ocean War.
By now you are asking, "What does this have to do with missionary work?" Well, I have recently been reading the sixth volume of Morison's history and came across a story which illustrated a quote from Colin Powell, former Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and Secretary of State, to wit, "Truths from the mouths of curmudgeons is truth all the same." Often we choose not to listen to certain people, based on appearances or who we think they are, or some other criteria, but truth is truth no matter the source.
Blind unbelief is sure to err
And scan his works in vain;
God is his own interpreter,
And he shall make it plain.
(Hymn #285 "God Moves in a Mysterious Way")
Truth and plainness can come from unexpected places, which the following story from Morison may help illustrate.
"Another grave defect arose from the excessive respect for rank and position in Japan," prefaces Morison. "The initiation of suggestions about strategic plans, which any officer could venture in the United States, was in Japan the prerogative of Naval General Staff and Commander in Chief Combined Fleet, and anyone who brought unwelcome information or intelligence to the top men was apt to be snubbed."
When war broke out between Japan and the United States, diplomats of each country were interned by the other until an exchange was made starting in August 1942. On the first exchange ship was a Rear Admiral Yokoyama, who had been the Japanese naval attaché in Washington during 1941, the assistant attaché, and a naval intelligence officer from the Japanese legation in Mexico City. "In addition to what they already knew," wrote Morison, "they had ample opportunity to learn more at Hot Springs, where they had full access to the American press."
Upon arrival in Tokyo, the three men were immediately sequestered at Naval General Headquarters where they were to play a war game using their fresh knowledge. Playing the commanders of the United States, they started farther back than where the forces of the United States then actually were -- for the purposes of the game, it was assumed that Japan had recaptured Guadalcanal. Despite the handicap, the team playing the role of U.S. commanders managed to retake the Philippine Islands by October 1, 1944 -- 20 days before General McArthur's return to the Philippines on the island of Leyte in actual fact -- "a pretty good prophecy," noted Morison.
Even so, as the historian goes on to write, "These officers, who so successfully anticipated Nimitz's and McArthur's moves from the Solomon Islands to Leyte Gulf, were, however, ignored. Nobody wanted to their information or their views. We asked one of them [after the war] if anything was said to his winning team by the Naval General Staff. 'Yes,' said he, 'we were told to keep our mouths shut!'"
Morison then adds that initiative on the part of junior flag officers was discouraged in the Japanese Imperial Fleet. "During the war," he wrote, "we wondered why Rear Admiral Raizo Tanaka, the destroyer squadron commander whose fine combination of sound training and resourcefulness won the Battle of Tassafaronga, had no command after 1942. The reasons were twofold: he frequently pointed out that the poor quality of air cooperation with surface operations was causing unnecessary ship losses; and, as early as 30 August 1942, he declared to Admiral [Gunichi] Mikawa, 'Guadalcanal should be abandoned as its supply cannot by maintained.' Mikawa replied, 'The Highest Command have decided on recapturing Guadalcanal'; and despite Tanaka's loyal efforts in that direction he was 'put on the beach,' as we say in the United States Navy, after his prophecy had been proved correct."
Tanaka was not the only commander during World War II to be fired for being proved right by events. Air Marshal Hugh Dowding was relived as commander of the Royal Air Force's Fighter Command after it won the Battle of Britain. Dowding's relief has been attributed by some to his singlemindedness, perceived lack of diplomacy and political savoir faire in dealing with intra-RAF challenges and intrigues, particularly the hotly debated Big Wing controversy in which a number of senior and active service officers had argued in favour of large set-piece air battles with the Luftwaffe as an alternative to Dowding's successful strategy of attrition by smaller confrontations with the German Air Force.
Sometimes we get caught up in our own perceived wisdom, perhaps based on our experience as compared to the experience of others. Missionaries are not immune to this symptom of pride. Missionaries in leadership may not see value in the comments of less experienced elders and sisters because they are viewed merely as "greenies." A senior companion may not listen to a junior companion and miss a valuable idea that could advance the work in their area.
In the mid- to late-1990s, a Major John P. Hull of the U.S. Marine Corps wrote in an article published in Proceedings, the periodical of the U.S. Naval Institute, "Candor should be not only encouraged but expected -- if not demanded." He was discussing the importance of communication during staff planning, but the point can be applied to the planning of a pair of missionaries. "Once the commander makes his decision and puts it into action," added Hull, "continued candor remains vital -- although it is never a means of justifying less than full and vigorous support of the commander." If we were to have a formula for this, it might be "full candor before a decision is made, and full support after it is made."
Major Hull went on to say, "Integrity without candor, the 'if you have nothing good to say, say nothing at all' approach, in no way prepares us for or win wars. Its absence often leads to a 'politically correct' interpretation of actions or events, facilitates the perpetuation of a flawed effort, or allows a reinfestation of micromanagement within the ranks."
Missionary companionships, districts or zones, or any other organization, can experience similar problems if candor is missing. It is interesting to note the importance of candor to integrity as the subject of integrity has been discussed previously in this blog. Missionaries have multiple opportunities to communicate with candor, in planning, in weekly companionship inventories, weekly district meetings, monthly zone meetings, and other conferences and training within the mission to which they are assigned.
One final comment by Hull, "We are all quick to jump on the 'people must be allowed to make mistakes' bandwagon, but too often we quietly caveat this with the thought, 'As long as they're not my people.'" There can be a temptation to judge companions and other missionaries because of their weaknesses, and possibly to micromanage companions and other elders and sisters in a district or zone. We are all human, and because of this we all have weaknesses, and we all make mistakes. We should not judge others because we, too, are weak.
General Charles Krulak, who was Commandant of the U.S. Marine Corps in the late 1990s, defined a mistake as something that is made when, in an attempt to do something right, someone makes the wrong choice. The distinction, then, is made between mistakes and willful disobedience. Disobedience must be dealt with while people must be allowed to make mistakes.
"There are lessons to be learned from mistakes," said General Krulak. "Good leaders create an environment where subordinates are allowed to make mistakes, yet are not put into situations for which they are unprepared or for which the scope of the mistake could be dangerous." Mistakes, however, are better made in training and preparation than in execution in real situations. "We must be allowed to err in peacetime to ensure that we do not err in combat," said Krulak. "We will not be able to survive if we do otherwise."
