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."
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