I was privileged to get to know Dr. Hill.  He had the huge church in the black, Watts area of Los Angeles.  He was a really big black man both physically and otherwise.  You may have seen him on one of his many TV appearances.

He was reared on the outskirts of La Grange, Texas.  He never knew his real mother or father.  He had been taken in by an older black lady when very young.  He said that their house had only a dirt floor.  I heard him tell of his upbringing at least three times.  It struck such an emotional chord with me that I got big tears in my eyes every time I hear him relate it.   And when I tried to relate it to others, I got chocked-up each time, like now.

He was called “Junior”.  He only knew the lady who reared him as “Mama”.  He never had very good clothes to wear to school, but they were always kept immaculately clean by Mama.   When he got old enough to be in high school, Mama’s friends all told her to put that boy to work to help support you, but Mama said:  “No, Junior’s going to finish high school”.   When he finished high school they all insisted that Mama put him to work to help support them.  But Mama said:  “No, Junior’s going to go to college for sure.”

Dr. Hill said that though Mama did not have much money, she bought a bus ticket on the Greyhound bus to Prairie View, Texas near Houston where Prairie View A&M University was located.  After the ticket, Mama only had twelve dollars left.  She gave that to Junior, put him on the buss and told him:  “Now Junior, you go on to college and I am going to be here praying.  God is going to provide, ‘cause he wants you to go to college.’”

Dr. Hill said he got off that bus and walked up to the college where the Admissions area was.  He said that he only had $8 left after a meal when the buss stopped along the way.  He got in line with the other students.  However, he kept staring at the big sign above the Admissions Desk that said in large letters…….You must have $120 to stay in this line.  He says that he stayed in that line, because Mama told him to go to college and she would be at home praying.  Finally, there were only eight people in front of him, but he kept looking up at that sign.  Then there were only 3 people in front of him, but that big sign was still there. 

He said that finally there was only one girl in front on him.  He said that just as she walked away from the Admissions Table, this big voice boomed out…….”Junior Hill!!!  Is there a Junior Hill here???”   He sheepishly raised his hand and this man came up to him.  The man informed him that he had a full scholarship there for him and a certificate for all his room and board.  Dr. Hill said that to this day he never learned who provided those funds, but he knew that Mama was back home there kneeling on that dirt floor praying.

Dr. Hill was always trying to get across to people that many folks may experience privation on this earth as he once had, but he wanted them to know that if they stayed close to the Lord, they had great rewards coming to them after this life in Heaven.  I shall never forget how he illustrated that to me one time.  Like I mentioned, he had this huge church in Watts.  The church had all manner of ministries there and a large office with many clerks and administrators.

Dr. Hill said that one day he was briskly walking through that office when he looked down and noticed this young lady at one of the desks.  He slid to a stop right beside here.  He was so big an imposing with such a commanding voice, that the poor girl was probably terrified.  He looked down at her and said:  “Girl, is you who I thinks you is?”  She hung her head and looked down and said:  “Yes Sir.”   It was Natalie Cole, Nat King Cole’s only daughter.  He was dead now, but his estate was worth many millions of dollars.

Dr. Hill said:  “Girl, what in the world is you doin’ workin’ here as a clerk.”  Her reply:  “Dr. Hill, I hasn’t come into my inheritance yet.”   

Later, when Natalie Cole got old enough to qualify for her inheritance, she became one of the wealthiest young ladies in Los Angeles, and went on to greatly expand the estate with her own music which studios blended in with her late father’s voice.  Millions of those records were sold.

So, you get Dr. Hill’s point.  So many folks have not come into their Heavenly inheritance yet, but they should all be looking forward to it.  That will help them get through the rough times here now.

One time, Dr. Hill and I and Bunker Hunt and his wife were on our way to a conference in Florida.  Dr. Hill was in First Class, but Bunker was back is economy class with me where he always flew.  When we all got to the airport we took a stretch limousine together to the Doral Country Club where the conference was being held.

I had never known that Dr. Hill and Bunker Hunt’s wife both had bad cases of claustrophobia that came upon them on occasion.  They got to telling those claustrophobia stories like I had never heard.  Dr. Hill said that he was taking his children through Long Horn Cavern on a trip back to Texas.  He said that he was doing all right until they clanged that big steel gate shut behind him. It and the closeness of the cavern hit him.  He turned and said to the young man:  “You need to open that gate, son.”   The boy said:  “No sir, you are with that group.   You need to go on ahead into the cavern.”    “You don’t understand son.  You need to open that gate.”  And Dr. Hill was so huge and imposing that the boy opened the gate.

Dr. Hill related that when the claustrophobia incidents would hit him most intensely, was on airplanes.  He said that he actually had planes land to let him off on certain occasions.

So I asked him:  “Dr. Hill, when was the last time that happened to you?”   He said:  “Last ‘a week.”   So, I asked him to tell us about it.  He said that he was on a plane back to New York from London where he had been speaking.  On those first big 747’s they had a fairly large round widow in the door at the back of the plane.  He said that in the middle of the flight the claustrophobia hit him.   He said that he got up and walked back and looked down through that round widow at those blue waves in the middle of the Atlantic.  He said:  “Lord, you has got to see me through this.  This ain’t no good place to land this plane!”

Another thing that Dr. Hill wanted to get across to people was how God does his work on our planet most times through very ordinary people.  The way that he illustrated it was with the story of Moses leading his people out of Egypt to the Promised Land.  Dr. Hill would say that those captive people had been praying for many, many years to be delivered from their captivity.  Dr. Hill said:  “Finally God answered their prayer.   The Israeli Gazette had the headlines…..’God gonna deliver his people out of Egypt.  God gonna send Moses.’  Wait a minute God, what’s this Moses business.  That dude killed that man.  That dude can’t even talk right.  Let’s see about somebody else, God.’   But God said:  ‘No, I am sending my servant Moses to deliver you.’”

And Dr. Hill would say:  “God decided to do his work on this earth through regular peoples’.  That is the dumbest way God could have ever do it.  That is God’s Plan A.   He ain’t got no plan B.  He sent Moses, not an army of angels.”

So, I have gone through all this about Dr. E.V. Hill in anticipation of relating one thing or occasion to you.  Some years ago when it looked like Teddy Kennedy was going to be swept into the Office of President of the U.S., the Christian people in America became quite concerned about the way the country was headed.  Two little churches in Washington D.C. proposed that we have a national day of prayer and fasting on the Mall in Washington.  Rather miraculously it quickly became a national movement.  Christian ministries and churches and all manner of Christian groups joined in to be there to pray for our Country.  Hundreds and hundreds of thousands of people felt compelled to go.  But our liberal news media never reported a word of it.  Several reliable Christian institutions have estimated that there were close to a million people there.

Early on the morning of that day they routed many of the Washington subways one-way into town to the Mall.  Thousands and thousands of young people went the night before and spent that night on the grass of the mall in their sleeping bags.  I had no intention of going, but in the afternoon of the day before; I just had to go.  I got a plane ticket and packed a little bag and was able to spend the night in the home of one of our high government officials who lived in Virginia.  I caught the subway early the next morning and went straight in.

I was able to maneuver fairly close to the speakers stand that had been set up.  Some young people were passing out programs.  I got one and was overwhelmed at all the Christian speakers…….like Billy Graham and Dr. Bill Bright and a host of others.   However, the one that I really wanted to hear was Dr. E.V. Hill.  Then I was just crushed when I saw on the program that all he was assigned to do was deliver an opening prayer.

A tropical storm had moved in and was situated just off the mouth of the Potomac.  It had been raining steadily all night and was slated to rain all day and for the next three days.  All those young folks who had spent the night before on the grass had slept in the mud in their wet bags.  Things looked like they were going to be just miserable. 

Then it was time for Dr. Hill’s opening prayer.  Someone introduced him and he started to pray in his commanding voice.  He started off rather calmly and built-up as he went along, but I shall never forget how he finished off.   He said:  “Lord, this here rain ain’t no good thing.  I am asking you to do something about that, Lord.  Amen!” 

I had my eyes closed like most everyone else.  But when I opened my eyes, it was to blinding sunlight.  There was a hole in those thick clouds making a big ellipse only over the Mall with bright sunlight streaming down.

I never heard exactly how many people were there, but like I said, it was estimated there were close to a million.  Later in the day there was a big parade of the states, all kinds of people from every state.  I remember thinking that I never would have believed that there were that many evangelical Christians from Massachusetts when they passed by.   There was a sign for every state, even though the states were not in alphabetical order.   Finally, I could not stand it any longer; I had to join the parade.  I fell in with a large group of nuns from Louisiana.   I felt sorry for the food vendors.  They thought they were going to make a killing, but we were all supposed to fast.

All day I watched those helicopters from the media and the government circling just inside the clouds on the inside of that sun-bathed ellipse.  After I got back home and called back up there; they told me that just as the gathering had finished, the clouds moved back over the Mall and it did rain for three more days.

 Folks, you can say that it was just a weather phenomenon that there was bright sun in my eyes the very second Dr. Hill finished his prayer, but you could never make me believe it.  And I always wondered what those media folks thought as they circled just inside that big ellipse against the clouds in their helicopters.

 

P.S. This is a note to my many friends in China who are reading these stories:

我为中国有多少人在读我的故事感到惊讶。 它们是我即将出版的书的摘录。 因此，这是给我在中国的新朋友的一封信：如果您不介意，请给我发送一封电子邮件，写上您的名字，并向我介绍一下您自己。 我只会给您一些中国的特殊故事，这是世界上其他任何人都看不到的。 我的电子邮箱…… ronald82@verizon.net

There were many “Fighting Texas Aggies” who contributed greatly to the Allied success in WWII.  However, there were probably none more so than Richard Brooks from Waco, Texas.  And you probably never heard of him.  Many have been honored and commemorated down at College Station for their contributions to our military efforts, but he has not been.  There is no statue or plaque there commemorating what he did. It is a fact that General Patton greatly admired Texas Aggies.  And he said that mainly because of Richard Brooks, my mother’s younger brother.  Here is his story:

He graduated and was commissioned an officer in the US Army at just the right time to be sent to England at the start of WWII. 

General Patton was legendary there, as you know.  He did not participate in the D-day landing.  Instead, he was used as a decoy to cause the Germans to suspect a landing near Cherbourg, farther down the coast from Normandy.  The Germans feared him above all other Allied leaders.  That he was still in England after the D-day landings caused Hitler and most of his generals to think that the main landing was yet to come and be headed by Patton.  That is one reason that they did not throw all their massed Panzer Divisions against the Normandy landing and throw the Allied invaders back into the ocean.  They felt they needed to hold them back to oppose Patton. 

Finally they realized that Normandy was the main force.  It got bogged down in the hedge rows in that part of France and also moved slowly because of what many consider the over cautious tactics of Montgomery and General Bradley.  They needed to break out of there.  That was when General Patton was sent over.

He attacked from down to the right, away from most of the hedge rows.  We have all heard how his tanks were out in front of everyone, sending the Germans reeling back.  What most have not heard is that someone had to be out in front of those fast moving tanks, to get them across the multitude of bridges that the Germans blew as they retreated, the creeks, the ravines, and the tank traps that the Germans left.  That job fell to Patton’s Engineering Corps.

And Richard Brooks was one of the officers in charge of Patton’s Engineering Corps for most all his operations.  He had officers above him, but he was the ranking officer in front of those tanks…….”the tip of the spear”.

That made him the ranking officer to free every French town they encountered and the ranking officer to capture every German town they took.  In Germany he had orders not to leave an armed population behind them.  In each German town and village they took, he would call out the Mayor or “Burgermeister” and order them to pile all their guns in the square to be burned.

Captain Brook’s, father was the Chief Engineer on the Katy Railroad that ran from San Antonio to Kansas City.  He was a very Godly man, but with few outside activities other that his important railroading job and church and Sunday school.  It was my father who taught Richard how to hunt and fish and to appreciate and care for fine guns.

He told me, as his nephew, that it really pained him to destroy all those fine old firearms.  He said that those old Germans would actually cry and shed tears as they threw those old guns onto the fire.  Richard said that he almost cried with them.  However, he saved back some of the best ones.  He sent quite a few of those to me here in Texas.  But he saved the very best ones for the small group of pilots that protected him.

See, he was out in front of those tanks.  The only primary protection that he had was the small squadron of fighter planes that were assigned to strafe and fire their rockets in front of the tanks.   They were all Douglas P-47s.  Their air cooled 18-cylinder, Pratt & Whitney radial engines generated 2,600 hp.  At a speed of 440 mph their speed equaled that of the much lighter and more glamorous P-51 Mustangs.  While the Mustangs carried six 50 caliber guns and 1,800 rounds, these “Jugs” as they were called, each had eight 50 caliber guns with 3,400 rounds of ammo.  The pilots just loved them.  They had roomy cockpits and big comfortable seats.

Each of these planes could carry 3,000 lbs of armament, half that of a Flying Fortress.  Its bombs and 5-inch rockets were very effective against those big German tanks.  Since they were stationed at captured German airfields just behind Patton’s forces, they flew as many as 3 missions on many days.  It was dangerous work,

flying those low-level sorties against the radar controlled anti-aircraft guns of the Germans.  Many were shot down, and on those low-level strafing runs, your parachute was useless.  However, without those brave P-47 Thunderbolt pilots, Brooks could never have done his job.

Brooks made sure that the pilots of those planes got some really fine German firearms, particularly the thin-walled 16 gauge shotguns.

One of the two of those 16 gages he sent me was so unique.  It was a twin barrel 16-gauge shotgun with an 8mm rifle barrel just underneath the shotgun barrels.  It had the standard shotgun sighting rib down between the shot gun barrels, but when one wished to fire the rifle, he could push on a little tab on the stock and a rifle sight would rise up right out of the shotgun rib. 

He related how on one occasion they captured a big warehouse that was totally filled with the 22 caliber Mauser rifles that the Germans used to train their youth.  He made sure that I got one of those, also, complete with its bayonet.

So, you might ask what all this has to do with the theme of this book about God intervening in a particular way with his Spirit Power to cause real, tangible miracles.  Let me tell you.

As they were moving across Germany, one day Captain Brooks was down in a tree-covered ravine deciding the best way to get Patton’s tanks across it.  A German soldier threw one their shrapnel grenades way up in the air over him.  It exploded at the top of its arc.  One cubical piece of the shrapnel slammed down and hit Captain Brooks.  It entered the top of his back, went completely through his body, and came out against his belt.  He said that all he felt was the hot metal burning his stomach and lodged against his belt from the inside.  They rushed him to the field hospital, but he needed almost no medical attention. 

After the war, when he first returned, he showed me that piece of shrapnel.  His children told me that he never even showed it to them.   It was cubical and about 3/4 of an inch on each side.  What I will never forget is that on one side it had rough, serrated ribs; and there was khaki wool imbedded in that metal where it had gone through his wool coat.  Now just think about it.  How could a piece of hot metal that big go all the way through a man’s body from the top of his back down to the belt around his stomach and miss every blood vessel, and every organ, and every nerve?  I consider that an absolute miracle that I literally held in my hand. 

They say that Captain Brooks was back in action in only three days.  A host of people were praying for protection and success for the Allied troops.  Captain Brooks was so important to that effort at that very time; I just know that this miracle was one of the answers to those prayers.  He needed to be there in front of those tanks.

Brooks and Patton were very frustrated that they were not allowed to circle and capture that sizable German army that was allowed to escape out of the forest after the Battle of the Bulge.

They were really frustrated when Eisenhower and Bradley held them at the Siegfried Line in what seemed like forever.  They could have easily captured Berlin way before the Russians ever got there.  Let’s not get too deep into the politics, but that was for sure a political decision, just like it was to let the Russians take and control most all of Eastern Europe.  Our media never showed all those East European troops on our side committing public suicide in protest for allowing the Russians to take over their countries and make Communist satellites out of them.

Brooks was very self-effacing.  He protested when they pinned all those medals on him.  They wanted to promote him to Lt. Colonel or at least Major, but he insisted that he remain Captain Brooks.

Upon his return to Texas, he related a few of his experiences to me.  One day I was allowed to see the sizable pile of medals he had been awarded.  He protested every time that he did not want one, but they awarded them to him anyway.  I picked one shiny medal up and asked him what it was awarded for.  He insisted that he did not want it, but that they pinned it on him anyway; but I insisted on knowing what it was for.

He finally agreed to tell me.  He said that they had fought all day and all the next night to save a particular old bridge in a German town.  He did not want the Germans to blow it.  He wanted it for his tanks to get across the river.  Finally, they succeeded,  and all the tanks got across.  He said that he was so exhausted that he was just leaning against the far end of the bridge after the last tank had passed over.

At just that moment he was amazed to see a hidden steal door open across the road from him at the end of the bridge.  He said that an immaculately dressed German officer stepped out and walked over and asked permission to surrender his troops to him.  With Captain Brooks’ acquiescence, the German officer barked out orders and German troops started exiting……..several hundred of them. They were hidden in tunnels built into the end of that bridge and beyond.

Brooks told the German officer to take charge of the troops and have his junior officers to march them back across the bridge and down into the town where Patton and his staff were ensconced.

So, across the bridge and down into the town marched most of a whole German battalion with only Captain Brooks as their captor.  They say it was an amazing sight.  They insisted on giving him the medal for such a feat.

Under the stress and pressure of combat sometimes communications were quite short and even curt.  An example was when in the Battle of the Bulge the German Panzer Divisions had the crossroads town of Bastogne completely surrounded.  It happened during some of the worst snow and cold ever recorded in that area.  On December 22, 1944 two German officers from the 47^th Panzer Corp. and two German enlisted men from the 901st Panzer Grenadier Regiment came walking down the Arlon Road south of Bastogne carrying two white flags.  The Germans had their own blindfolds with them.  The two German enlisted men were left at a foxhole outpost and the two blindfolded German officers were taken to the Command Post of F Company, 327th Glider Infantry Regiment, which was a large foxhole located in a wooded area about a quarter mile away. 

The Germans, a Major Wagner and a Lt. Henke (who could speak English) both from the 47^th Panzer Corp., had a one- page, typed surrender demand in English.  It noted that the Americans were completely surrounded.  It said that the Germans would wait two hours and then open up with heavy artillery and four units of Anti-Aircraft guns and completely annihilate everyone in Bastogne and the surrounding area if the Americans did not agree to surrender.  It appealed to “the Americans’ well-known humanity” that all the civilians there would not be killed if the surrender was accepted.  It was signed “The German Commander”.

The paper was taken to the commanding General of the 101^st Airborne, Gen. Anthony McAuliffe.  After conferring with his staff, he sent back this typed short, curt reply that was typed in the center of a single sheet of paper:

December 22,1944

To the German Commander,

NUTS!

The American Commander

The second in command at Bastogne was Col. Bud Harper, the 327^th’s Regimental Commander.  Others above him were all wounded or out of action.  He was not there.  He was out inspecting his unit’s positions.  He was summoned on the radio and he came in to their headquarters.  Gen. McAuliffe had him read the German letter and before he could reply with an answer, the clerk came in with Gen. McAuliffe’s typed reply.  When he read it, he just laughed and said that would be adequate.

The two German officers were still waiting at that foxhole out in the woods.  They felt that since they had delivered a formal offer of surrender, they were due a formal reply.  Gen. McAuliffe sent Col. Harper himself out to them with his reply. 

The two blindfolded German officers were then driven to their entry point at the Arlon Road.  The group was rejoined by PFC Premetz who could speak German. The blindfolds were removed and the Germans opened the envelope and looked at the reply. They asked, “What does this mean?” They obviously didn’t understand the American slang. Harper and Premetz discussed how to explain it. Col. Harper suggested, “Tell them to take a flying s**t!”  Premetz thought about it, then straightened up, faced the Germans and said, “Du kannst zum Teufel gehen.” He told Harper it meant “You can go to Hell.” Then Col. Harper said, “If you continue to attack, we will kill every damn German that tries to break into this city.” The German Lt. Henke replied, “We will kill many Americans. This is war.” Harper then said, “On your way Bud, and good luck to you.” After Lt. Henke translated, the major acknowledged. They saluted and the Germans started to walk away. Harper angrily called out to them, “If you don’t know what I am talking about, simply go back to your commanding officer and tell him to just plain, ‘Go to Hell’.” After Henke translated, the major got angry and stormed off.

I am sure you have heard how General Patton was ordered to make a 90 degree turn and see if he could get to Bastogne and relieve it. 

The artillery of the Germans had already been moved on to the west so they did not lay down the promised artillery barrage, but they bombed that night and heavily the next two with the their Luftwaffe.  They made 17 attacks with tanks and troops, but the 101^st doggedly held out.

Gen. Patton’s 3^rd Army tanks did arrive at 4:50 in the afternoon on the day after Christmas.  He had made one of the most amazing forced marches in US Army history and broke through the German encirclement.

The Rhine River was the last main barrier to the German heartland.  The Germans had blown all the bridges across it as a defense.  However, their explosive charges did not bring down the Ludendorff bridge at Remagen as they had planned.  The extremely brave US Army engineers cut the wires and kicked off the remaining explosive charges that were still there, under heavy machine gun fire.  A movie was made about it (The Bridge at Remagen).

However, the Americans were able to get a fairly sizeable group of soldiers and some armor across before the bridge finally came down.  They were enough to make a fairly safe bridgehead on the other side of the river.  However, they were not nearly enough to repulse the German counterattack that was being readied to annihilate them.

Captain Brooks had saved back a sizeable number of rubber rafts and the metal tracks to lay across them for just such an occasion.  In nothing flat he had a bridge across the Rhine there.  Patton’s tanks and support trucks rolled across.  They not only saved the troops providing the beachhead, they began to roll into the area of the German Ruhr, the German heartland.  However, before they charged straight ahead, they made a quick arc to encircle and capture 22,000 German troops.  

Patton was just ecstatic that he had beaten Bradley and Montgomery across the Rhine.  When Central Command heard about it, Eisenhower radioed wanting to know how he had done it.  Montgomery and Bradley were still stopped by the Rhine River.  Patton’s crossing was totally unexpected, especially by the Germans.

It is said that he sent back one of those short, curt replies just like Gen. McAuliffe did at Bastogne.  Patton’s reply was only…………”One Texas Aggie!!!”

And here is the rest of the story:

In their blitz across Germany, Capt. Brooks told me of a German aviator that came down one day near them.

He was captured and brought to Capt. Brooks.  He could speak very good English.  Since they were moving so fast, there was really no place to put him under proper custody.  He was quite well behaved and stayed with Brooks for several days.  My Uncle Dick Brooks told me that the German Aviator Officer was just adamant that they should not be fighting each other.  He strongly contended that:  “They should all be fighting the Russians, together”.

Richard Brooks was as appalled as the other soldiers by what he saw as they liberated the German concentration camps.  He did not want to talk much about it, but I learned this much about Dachau.

 On April 25, 1945 the US Seventh Army’s 45^th Infantry’s Division was tired, dirty, and pushing on to take the German town of Munich.  Just ten miles from Munich is when they came upon Dachau. 

The first thing they saw was 40 German freight cars lined up on the train rails leading into the camp.  They looked in and were shocked and amazed to see that the cars were stacked full of human corpses.  Later count showed that there were 3,219 stacked in those cars.

The 45^th was in full battle mode and all hyped-up with the adrenalin of battle.  They were immediately fired on by German SS troops in the towers of the concentration camp.  They dispatched those and warily entered the camp, for they did not know how many SS troops may be lurking there to attack them, and they knew how dangerous and brutal the German SS was.

Then they saw the first of the 30,000 emaciated prisoners who were still there.  7,000 had been marched off in a “death march” the day before from Dachau to Tegernsee by the Germans in which most were either shot because they could not keep up or just died from the exertion and starvation in their emaciated state. 

The troops of the 3^rd Battalion saw the kilns where the corpses were still being burned.  There were piles of corpses waiting to be burned.  The stench of death just permeated the air.  They were in full battle gear and still all hyped, not knowing who was there to shoot at them.  And they were just overwhelmed and appalled at these sites. 

The 3^rd Battalion of the 45^th started rounding up the German SS officers and guards.  It was never reported in the media, but these US troops were so appalled and viscerally sickened that they lined up many of those SS guards and started executing them.  They had encountered SS troops before and knew how brutal and fanatical they were.  These men of the 45^th said:  “To Hell with the Geneva Convention rules.”  And they started taking their own revenge in their righteous indignation.

You don’t believe it?  Look at this shot:

Some of the prisoners had not been there too long.   They were not yet totally emaciated.  When they saw the US soldiers rounding-up the Waffen SS Officers and guards, they became emboldened and took after the other German guards and officers. 

One of the prisoners, Walenty Lenarczyk, said that immediately following the liberation the prisoners gained a newfound sense of courage. They caught the SS men “and knocked them down and nobody could see whether they were stomped or what, but they were killed.” As Lenarczyk put it, “We were, all these years, animals to them and it was our birthday.”

There’s a reporting of two liberated prisoners beating a German guard to death with a shovel and another witnessed account of a liberated prisoner stomping repeatedly on the face of a guard.

Two of the most notorious prison guards had been stripped naked by the prisoners before they were shot.

Jack Goldman was liberated at Dachau and became a U.S. Veteran of the Korean War. His father was killed in Auschwitz.

Goldman reflected on the Dachau liberation, the subsequent events that transpired, and the idea of vengeance. Though he doesn’t preach hatred, he understood the feelings of those prisoners.

“I knew men in camp who had sworn by everything that was holy to them that if they ever got out that they would kill every damn German in sight. They had to watch their wives mutilated. They had to watch their babies tossed in the air and shot.”

One vivid memory Goldman recalled from the liberation was the American troops taking their names. He said, “For the first time, we were no longer only numbers.”

After word of American soldiers killing SS Guards at Dachau spread, an investigation was ordered by Lt. Col. Joseph Whitaker. The “Investigation of Alleged Mistreatment of German Guards at Dachau” as it was called produced documents that were marked “secret.” Soldiers spoke under sworn testimony and in the aftermath were inclined to speak little more of whatever happened at the Dachau Concentration Camp after it was liberated.

Felix L. Sparks was a general who wrote a personal account of the events.

General Sparks wrote that, despite more exaggerated claims, “The total number of German guards killed at Dachau during that day most certainly did not exceed fifty, with thirty probably being a more accurate figure.”

I think Sparks was just trying to make things look better.  Take a look at that last picture again.

The stories of US troops taking revenge in behalf of those prisoners and corpses was kept secret until 2001 when certain archives of WWII were finally released.

After the war Captain Brooks became Chief Engineer of American Airlines.   He was first stationed in Dallas, and AA kept promising that they were going to move to Dallas, but he finally had to move to their headquarters in New York.  They eventually did move to Dallas, but way too late for his purposes.  He eventually resigned and moved back to Dallas to work for Braniff.

However, he knew something that he could never talk about.  It deeply disturbed him all the rest of his life.  One night it even caused him to take all his medals out into the backyard in New York and burn them.

I will just mention what it was without getting too deep into it.  Others have completely confirmed it, and even written books about it.

General Patton was seriously considering coming back to the States and running for President.  It was the opinion of those who knew, that he would have for sure been elected.  Eisenhower was, and Patton was way more popular than Eisenhower at the time.  Patton knew all about the Deep State, though it was not called such then.  He did not owe anybody anything.  He would have for sure cleaned it up.   It was way worse then than it probably is now, even though it is still way bad now.  We had not even translated the Verona Tapes back then.  (Look them up on Google/Wikipedia.)  There were so very many Russian/Communist agents all through our government.  Our Intelligence people recorded all the radio transmissions going out of the US back to Russia, but they were never translated until many years later.  That was the Verona tapes.  Senator Joseph McCarthy wanted to do something about that plethora of Communist agents.  He held hearings on the subject, but our liberal media just excoriated him.  They even make his name into a bad word that is still used today…….”McCarthyism”.

It has never been publicized by our Media, but when we finally translated all those tapes, it showed that not

Only was McCarthy correct, he only scratched the surface.

The Deep State could not let Patton come back and clean that whole mess up.  They could not let that happen.  It is well documented now, that they had Patton assassinated.  When he did not die from their staged “accident”  at that railroad crossing, and was getting better, in collaboration with assistance from Russian Intelligence, they had him injected with the Russian drug that gives the appearance of a heart attack.

Brooks knew all that, but he had to just hold it inside until the day he died.

I first met Joanne at a big political function down in Austin.  Everyone who was “anyone” was there, including President Johnson.  She has always lived in Houston.  Her name was Joanne King then; though she later married the wealthy Bob Herring, Chairman of Houston Natural Gas, and became Joanne Herring.

Even at that early time she was already considered the “hostess with the mostess” in America, the ultimate hostess.  Men in Houston would bring their lunch to the office so that they could watch Joanne’s TV chat show at noon.  They just got uplifted by her incredible personality.

Her parties were already legendary, some lasting for several days with different events over the several days.

I was having a real struggle at that time.  I had already moved into that big house on the ranch; but needed to get a trust finished with US Trust Company of New York to obtain proper title to most all the rest of the 1,600 acres.  US Trust would not complete the trust unless I could acquire the mineral rights to the land that were in the name of another person.

That house and land had originally been put together by a gunfighter from out in west Texas named Jim Christal who got his leg shot off and had come to Denton to pursue a different profession.  He became quite successful and not only had that house and land; but built a fine house in town.  He bought sheep from Ireland which had gold colored hoofs, and named the Ranch, The Golden Hoof Ranch.

After he died, a very wealthy oil man from east Texas sold all his holding in east Texas and bought Jim Christal’s house and land and continued the name, Golden Hoof Ranch.  Before he died, this fellow and his black-haired daughter completely redid and expanded the house.  I heard many tales about her and her beautiful black-haired daughter.  They say that her husband went off on a trip to South America and was mysteriously killed, and that she immediately married the ranch manager.  

What I eventually found out was that this ranch manager was the one who still owned the mineral rights.  I heard all manner of tales about how mysterious and reclusive this fellow was; and he was no where to be found.  Not to be dramatic, but I really thought that God wanted me to have this place.  Yet, I had no idea how to find this fellow and try to get those mineral rights.

Right about this time, Joanne called and really wanted me to come to one of her “super parties” that she had planned.  I don’t know why, but I definitely felt compelled to go.

She had brought many of her friends over from Europe for it………like Princess Pia, and Princess Panatelli.  The Baroness Di Portanova was there and even Princess Barbara von Liechtenstein; of the family from which the Country of Liechtenstein gets its name.

The first function was a dance at a big home in Beaumont.  I did not stay at the hotel where most of the others were staying, so Joanne came by and picked me up at my hotel in her limousine.  She never received any money for her popular TV show.  Instead she asked for a permanent limousine and driver, and three trips to Europe per year.

A lovely black-haired lady named Julie Stienhagen was the owner of the home in Beaumont.  I was told that her husband controlled much of the gasoline trade on that part of the Texas coast, but that they were not real close. 

In fact, he never showed that whole weekend. 

That house had three stories plus a basement and a wine cellar below that.  The third floor was mostly a large dance floor, reached by elevator.  I dutifully visited with those people.  Some were quite interesting; but a most unusual thing happened. 

Julie took a small group of us on a tour of the house.  I know what déjà vu means, but what happened to me there on that night in that place was way more intense.  It was like the furniture and the pictures and certain other things in that house were totally familiar to me…….like I just knew them.   It was so intense that I called back to Dallas while I was there to try to explain it to two different friends, but it sounded so ridiculous that I just cut off the attempted conversation.

Finally, we headed back to Houston.  What I had never understood was that I was supposed to be Joanne’s date for the whole affair. 

The next day Barbara von Liechtenstein wanted me to take her through NASA.  She was right there in Houston and had heard so much about it.  So, I happily offered to take her there.  It is hard to describe how gorgeous that young lady was.  The guys who work at NASA have seen all manner of fancy folks….dignitaries, famous politicians, heads of governments, and a plethora of beautiful lady movies stars.  However, I don’t think they had ever seen a lady as gorgeous as Barbara.

Guys were walking into walls while looking back at her, dropping tools on their feet, and just staring at her.  She became quite a spectacle and caused quite a stir, but I am sure that she was used to it.

Then, that night, there was a dinner and a dance at a disco.  At that moment in history, a disco was really a quite new and novel thing.  I mostly sat-out the evening, for I had found a most interesting friend.  He had come over from Ireland and was the President of the Castle Preservation Society of Europe.  He was not nearly as boring as that title sounds.  He was really quite young for such a title and so much fun.  Also, he raised cattle and was very interested in the Santa Gertrudis cattle that I raised.

The disco wasn’t very large, and Julie Steinhagen was dancing right in front of us and kept motioning over and over for me to come join her.  I was having such a good time with my Irish friend that I didn’t go.  Finally, she came over and sat down right in front of me, and looked me straight in the eye and said:  “Please don’t think that I am being forward and that this is some kind of ‘come-on’, but there is something about you that is so unusually familiar that I just have to know why.”

She wanted to know all about me since she was feeling this strange “familiarity” with me.  She knew that we had never met, but she kept trying to understand why she felt this closeness to me.  We went through that I was from Texas, and near Denton, and when I finally got down to the exact location of that house where I now lived on the ranch.  Julie nearly fainted.  She was the black-haired daughter of the black-haired women who had previously owned the house.  The special room in the house’s upstairs with its big picture window that looked out across the country-side, the door out to an outside balcony, and the pink tiled bathroom with its special fixtures…..That had all been Julie’s room.

Now I found out the answer to the so strange déjà vu episode from the evening before in Julie’s home.  All that furniture and those pictures had all been her mother’s and had all once resided in my home on the ranch.  Also, maybe that explained why Julie felt such a familiarity to me.  Strange.

It turned out that Julie was the one person in the world who knew where her stepfather could be reached and who had leverage over him……..the guy who still owned the mineral rights that I needed to close on the land.   She said she would have him call me.   However, after two weeks I still had not heard from him.

I called Julie and told her that.  She said, very firmly:  “OK, he will call you!!!”  Very early the next morning he called.  He said that he would meet me at 6:30 AM the next morning in at motel on I-35.  We met, I gave him a check for $60,000 and had the mineral rights to the whole property.  It seemed like a waste of money at the time, for everybody knew that there was nothing under the land but a thick layer of very hard black shale rock.

Many years later, after my friend George Mitchell at Mitchell Energy showed the world how to frack that hard shale and get out hydrocarbons, $60,000 seemed like a bargain.

So, Joanne was not just a party girl and a TV darling.  Her father, who owned a big construction company and was the consummate outdoorsman, made sure that she learned to ride and shoot at an early age.  When it actually looked like our country may go Communist or had the threat of being taken over by the Communists, a large group was formed to oppose such.  They were called the Minute Men.  Then the Minute Women were formed and trained in gorilla tactics and how to handle automatic weapons.  Joanne became a Minute Woman.

She continued her “social activities” and  entertained people like……….arms dealer Adnan Khashoggi; the former president of Egypt, Anwar Sadat; King Hussein of Jordan; Princess Grace; and the Shah of Iran  and other “such” at her and Bob Herring’s 22-room mansion in Houston.

Later, the rulers of Pakistan wanted Bob Herring to come and drill for oil there.  They even wanted him to be their Consul in the US.  Since he did not wish for that job, he suggested that they give that job to his wife, Joanne.  That was rather awkward for Muslims to give a woman such responsibility, but they did it anyway because of their desire for Bob Herring’s help in drilling for oil.

She took the job quite seriously.  When General Zia (Muhammad Zia-ul-Haq) took over Pakistan by force, she went over to meet him.  He was so “taken with her” that she became his main foreign advisor.  They say that even when he was in an important Cabinet meeting, he would immediately stop to take a telephone call from Joanne. 

By now, Bob Herring had died, but she stayed very interested in that part of the world.  Her main motive was that she did not want the Russians to take over any of it.  Of course, this coincided with US interests also, and why the US kept giving so much aid to Pakistan.

Then the Russian army invaded Afghanistan and took over the whole country.  Afghanistan had always been a “little brother” to Pakistan.  No one in the US seemed to be doing anything about it.  This was “some disturbing” to Joanne.  She decided that she had to do something about it.

A whole bunch of really brave and tough Afghans moved across the border into Pakistan to try to oppose the Russians’ taking over their country.  I have a good friend in Afghanistan that I have stayed with two times who moved his whole family across the border.  He was not going to live under Russian rule.

That brave group called themselves The Mujahideen, and started their ten year war against the Russians.  I met three of them when they came to Dallas to try to raise money for their cause.  They showed us a graphic film of a group of them going all the way across Afghanistan, traveling by night, and blowing up the electric transmission towers outside Kabul.

Joanne went over there right away and met their leaders and pledged her help.  Of course, she would have charmed the socks off them just like she did General Zia, if they had worn socks.  But she charmed them anyway.

Right off the bat, she recognized their disadvantage.  No matter how brave and motivated they were, they only had small arms and a few mortars.  This was no match for the Russian tanks and ground strafing fighter planes and especially those awesome, fierce Russian attack helicopters.  Surely you have seen pictures of them.  In the last Rambo movie he captured one and used it back against the Russians.  In the scene that was supposed to be in Afghanistan in the movie, when all seemed lost, the Mujahideen came on horseback and rescued him.

Joanne tried all manner of her contacts in the US for help; but was getting no where.  Finally, she tried the “Wild Man” legislator in the US House of Representatives, Joe Wilson.  His district was in was East Texas.  He was considered, rather accurately, a boozer and a womanizer.  And he was no match for Joanne.

She conscripted him to actually go to Pakistan and meet the leaders of the Mujahideen.  They put him on horseback and took him all around and pleaded their cause.  Joanne succeeded.  Joe Wilson just became captivated by them and the just cause of their war against the Russian military.

If any of this seems familiar to you, then you have seen the recent Movie, “Charlie Wilson’s War”.   It is very historically accurate.  Julia Roberts had not made a movie in over 3 years, but she changed her hairdo to look like Joanne’s and played the part of Joanne in the movie.  I saw it a few years ago on a big 747 on a flight to Hong Kong.

Joanne and Charlie Wilson both knew what it would take for the Mujahideen to win and drive the Russians out of Afghanistan.  They had to be able to shoot down those strafing fighter planes and particularly those fierce attack helicopters.   The one, optimum weapon that would do it was the shoulder-fired Stinger heat-seeking missile in the US arsenal. 

Charlie went on what could only be called a crusade to get them for the Mujahideen.  He had no luck with our State Department or our military.  No one wanted to let those “get out of our hands” for fear they may be used by terrorists to shoot down airliners.  Charlie then tried pressure from the US Congress. 

It is a “long story”, but he finally succeeded.   The CIA helped him get them to the Mujahideen. 

When that first big, mean Russian helicopter was zooming straight in, firing rockets and 30 calibers attacking the Mujahideen, one of them bravely stood there out in the open.  That little rocket whooshed off his shoulder, headed straight for the front of that mean Russian helicopter.  It exploded and went down in flames, and as they say in East Texas:  “Those Russians just couldn’t stood that!!!”  As it got worse and worse for them, the Russians did leave Afghanistan for good.

And it really happened, just like in the last scene in the movie, the CIA gave Charlie Wilson one of those Stingers’ to hang on the wall above his desk in Washington, DC.  It was a commemorative, victory moment.

The last time I was with Joanne was years later in Houston at one of those meetings hosted by Bunker Hunt to raise big money for evangelism and to fund showing the Jesus Film in parts of Africa and India.  I sat between Joanne and her “tough” father at the first night’s dinner and program.   Last thing on the program was Dr. Bill Bright.  His staff only wanted him to make a sincere appeal for money.

I hosted a luncheon for Campus Crusade in Dallas where I had invited a bunch of Dallas businessmen.  Dr. Bright was the speaker, and his staff only wanted him to make a similar appeal for funds.  Not Dr. Bright.  If he was going to speak, he was going to present the Plan of Salvation and invite people to find the real God for their life.  In spite of his staff, he did, and asked all of the businessmen to leave one of their business cards on the table when they left, and to put a check mark on the card if they had “prayed that prayer”.

When we got back to my office, I was amazed at all the cards that had been checked.  And Dr. Bright exclaimed to his staff:  “See there; see those checked cards.  That’s my thing……..That’s what I do……That is what I live for!!!”

In Houston that night, he did the same thing; like only Bill Bright can present the Plan of Salvation.  And so help me, right there beside me, Joanne prayed to accept the Lord and ask Jesus into her heart.

In that movie, “Joe Wilson’s War”, in typical Hollywood fashion, they have Joanne “sleeping around”.  But let me tell you…….that was the Joanne before she became a real Christian!!!

On the second trip taking a medical team to Honduras I worked the projector showing the Jesus film each night, since the Hornstein’s were not there; and relied on the local Baptist missionary in Progresso to help with follow-up.  He was a nice fellow who had previously worked in Nicaragua.  He had been working there in a suburb of San Pedro Sulla for two years and only had a small church.  He did counsel the people for us but did not seem to have his heart in it.  And he finally told me that he did not “consider this to be part of his ministry”.

On the third medical team trip down there I was determined to have an “on fire” evangelist to be there to help us.  Since I was Chairman of the Trustees of Dallas Baptist University in Dallas, I called out there and explained our need and asked whether they had such a person.  They sent a fairly young lady down to my office.  Her name was Onelia Lawrence.  She was from Honduras and had just finished her third year of nursing school.

First thing I took her to lunch at a fine Mexican restaurant two doors down from my office.  At this particular place you ate upstairs.  We went up and got seated, but before our food came, a strange thing happened.  All the Hispanic help came out from the kitchen and stood around our table.  These people could feel the God in Onelia and were just drawn to her.  It was so unusual and interesting.  She said a few words to them about God in Spanish and they seemed satisfied and went back to their tasks.

I wanted to know her story………like why she was a little older than the other students and why was she in Dallas Baptist and how she got there?  So, she patiently told me her story.

She had been a mountain girl in the central highlands of Honduras in the Province of Yoro.  Most of the people are indigenous in the Yoro area, but she was Hispanic.  While she was still a teen she realized that there must be a God, and she wanted to know Him.  She went into the town of Yoro and moved in with a small group of Catholic nuns who lived there.  She did everything she could think of for the Catholic Church there.  She helped the priest with his tasks.  She cleaned and kept the place spotless, but she said that she never really found God.

Sometime later a traveling evangelical evangelist came through town and held services in a brush arbor on the edge of town.  She said that she went out and attended the services and for sure found Jesus and asked the real God into her life.

At that time they were cutting down the big fir and pine trees in those mountains and sending them to the

United States.   The forestry company doing the work there had a forestry engineer in charge of the operation, and Onelia wound up marrying that fellow.  That was really “making good” for a mountain girl, particularly from that poor part of Honduras.

He provided for her quite well, and they had three children, though Onelia said that she knew that he messed around with the other women down there.

Being a forestry engineer, he wanted to have a nice home for the family.  He built a really nice place over to the east toward the Atlantic coast.  He built it under the big trees almost right in the river that came down from the mountains so that it would stay cool in that hot climate.  He built it strong and quite high to avoid any chance of flooding and they moved in with the baby and the other two young children.

Onelia then related that about this time she became overwhelmed with the desire to do something special for Jesus.  Her husband did not understand.  He told her that she read her bible and went to church on Sunday……like what else did she need to do?

Onelia said that about that time she had this dream.  She had the same exact dream 6 nights in a row.  She said that in the dream, Jesus came down and put his arms around the family and said that he was going to take them all off with Him.  However, before they left, they were to sing a song together.   Well, Onelia could not remember the words for the song, so Jesus said that she could not go, she had to stay.

When Onelia told her husband about the dream, he said:  “Gee, Nelly, you have one of those church song books.   Go through it and learn all of the words.”

On the seventh night, she was staying awake, reading her bible.  She did want to have that dream again.   Outside it was raining, really raining.  Their area was not hit directly by a hurricane, but the back of one whipped around and dumped an enormous amount of rain.  And what no one knew was that the dam of a large lake up in the mountains was threatened.  It did break and thousands were killed and even the railroad tracks along the coast were washed away.

As Onelia was sitting there, an enormous wind just blew her bible off the table.  It was the wind in front of a wall of water from that dam.  She grabbed the baby up right out of the water as it rushed through the room.  Then the whole house collapsed.  As she was struggling in the water, a big log bore down upon her and hit her right in the face.  She has implanted teeth there now, but they are not hers.  Plus, that log knocked the baby right out of her arms.

She floated downstream for two or three miles and wound up in the top of an orange tree.  She was in shock and dazed, but she estimates that she stayed in that tree for at least two days.  All her night clothes were ripped off and she said that she made some crude covering from the orange branches.

Then she swears that what happened next is absolutely true.  She said that this little dog swam by her tree, and that a deep voice, right out of the sky around her, plainly said:  “Nelly, get down out of that tree and follow that dog.”  She says that was the only thing that would have gotten her out of that tree.  She followed the dog through the water that was about shoulder high, but as the water got more shallow, she realized that the water had been holding her up.  She could now not get her legs to work, so she crawled after the dog as it got onto dry ground and went up over a hill.  Then she crawled over and down the hill toward another body of water. 

Just then a man saw her and came and took her to safety.

She says that they found the bodies of the two younger children and her husband, but that the vultures and already “gotten to him”.   They never found the older boy.   She always had hope that he may have survived.  I even helped her try to find him later, but we were not successful.

Some wonderful Christians helped her get to Dallas and enroll in Dallas Baptist’s nursing school.  And that is Onelia’s story.

She went with me on every trip after that.  She was extremely effective in counseling after the Jesus Film was shown each night.  Many nights there would be several hundred people who had come out of the dark to stand under the string of lights we set up, signifying the decision they wanted to make about having God in their life.

In our medical clinics we also wanted to tell the people about Jesus.  If a pastor from the sponsoring church had gone with us, we would have him speak with Onelia translating, but most of the time it was just Onelia. 

She had taught me to select a particular room in the different schools where we would hold the clinics.  She insisted that we put only “room #4” on the door.  We would ask the people to go to room numero cuarto after they had finished their respective medical treatments.  She explained that if we put “counseling” or something like that on the door, those macho men would not go in.  So, we just put número cuatro on the door or on a sign to go out to meet with her under a big tree in the yard when there was no appropriate room.

So, I was curious how things were going.  I would slip into that room or out under the trees, and what I found was hard to believe.  Without exception, almost every person was making a decision for God.  I told Onelia that they were just being courteous or being grateful for their treatment.  But she insisted that she was making it really tough.  She said she was insisting that they be very serious and sincere about making a decision to ask Jesus into their hearts……that they should never just “play around” with God.

It took me three years to figure out what was really happening.  These people had been reared in a culture where they thought that only a very wealthy person could be sure that they were going to heaven.  They were the only ones who had enough money to pay the priest for enough dispensations to be sure they would get there.

Then Onelia would explain that with Jesus, they could have a relationship with God, himself, have him as part of their life, all for free.  Then they would look around at me and the doctors and nurses and say to themselves:  “These people are from the outside.  They are educated.  This lady must be telling us the truth.”   So, they would readily make the decision, and Onelia would make sure they sincerely meant it.

PS.  As a highly trained surgical nurse, fluent in Spanish, Onelia could be making big money here in the US; but no.  She is back down there in a poor area of Honduras without an income (other than a few donations) teaching the people Bible and ministering to their medical needs.

One of the greatest heroes of WWII and the epitome of the Greatest Generation was Joe Foss.  He grew up really poor on a farm in South Dakota.  He learned to hunt and was quite the outdoorsman.  He did manage to enroll in the University of South Dakota and was big in all their athletic programs but had to drop out to go back and help his mother on the family farm.  However, he later enrolled again and graduated with a degree in Business in 1940.

He had seen Lindbergh at an airfield when he was younger and was determined to fly.  He had already scraped together enough money for flying lessons and had his civilian license, so he joined the Marine Reserves and went to flight school.  When Pearl Harbor was bombed, he was Officer of the Day at Pensacola and rode around the base on his bicycle looking for Jap planes.

He was not allowed to train as a fighter pilot as he desperately wanted.  They said at age 27 he was too old.  He was instead assigned to an aerial photographer’s squadron.  Joe just could not abide that, especially after he saw one of the new F4F Wildcats.  He put up such a ruckus that they finally assigned him to a squadron of Wildcats.

He and his plane were loaded onto an aircraft carrier and sent straight across the Pacific.  He arrived at just the time that we invaded Guadalcanal.  The Marines captured the Japanese airfield there and set up residence.  Joe’s carrier was sent straight there, and he was catapulted off for his only takeoff from a carrier.  He landed on the bomb-pocked field which the Marines had named Henderson Field and became part of the Cactus Air Force on Guadalcanal.

The Japanese were determined to push them off that island.  They mounted attack after attack by land, and mounted daily air strikes.  They came up what was called “The Slot” between the islands to shell them from the sea.  They even flew over at night to keep the guys from sleeping.  The Grumman F4F was no match for the agile Japanese Zeros, but Joe Foss was absolutely ferocious.  He led their daily flights and many times afternoon flights.  The Japanese bombed daily with their Betty Bombers protected by their Zeros.

Joe became an ace in only 5 days.  In only a few more days he had 11 kills but lost 4 Wildcats from getting shot-up because of his daring maneuvers.  Because they had so few planes and even less ammunition Joe learned to get in really close before firing.  The Japs made it hard to get fuel and ammunition and supplies into their base by patrolling up and down what became known as Iron Bottom Sound.  Joe even led his small squadrons out to strafe the Jap destroyers and shoot down the Zeros protecting them. 

Within the first 13 days, Joe had wracked-up 14 kills, and on October 25, 1942 he became the first Navy pilot to ace on enemy planes in one day.

The pilots would bathe in the river there and try to get some sleep.  The men there mostly slept in the daytime since the Jap night fighters made it so hard to sleep at night.  For sport, Joe and his pilot friends would roam in the jungle on afternoons they were not flying, hunting Japanese soldiers to kill.  But Colonel Bauer put a stop to that since they were too valuable as pilots to risk such hunting.

After 23 victories on Guadalcanal Joe caught malaria like so many others there.  Since he was so valuable, they flew him off to recuperate in Australia for a while.  But they couldn’t keep this ferocious South Dakota fighter away.  He went back and rejoined the Cactus Air Force and had 3 more kills for a total of 26. 

His most important mission resulted in no enemy kills at all.  The Japanese came with a big task force of ships and a huge contingent of Betty’s and Zeros.  Joe was credited with leading a daring performance.  He circled above the enemy aircraft and ships in such a way as to trick them into thinking he was leading an advance squadron of a much, much larger strike force of US planes.  It resulted in the Japanese calling off their whole mission without a shot being fired.

While the war was still young, Joe was called back to the States to rally morale and stump for the War Bond selling effort.  He traveled all over and was a huge success.

He already had a bunch of medals, but in May of 1943 received the Congressional Medal of Honor from President Roosevelt. 

In later years, Joe Foss became Governor of South Dakota.   He was the first Commissioner of the American Football League.  He even served as President of the National Rifle Association for 2 years.

Now to what I really wanted to tell you.    A few years ago, I had the privilege of spending several days and a weekend with Joe Foss and his good friend, Roy Rogers at a Here’s Life Meeting in Palm Springs.  I can attest that they are both not just strong Christians but are personally really close to the Lord.

I asked Roy Rogers if he was reared on a ranch as a cowboy out west.  He told me:  “Naw man, I am from Duck Run Missouri.  We were so poor; the road did not even go past our house.  It stopped at our house.”   I said “But you are a Hollywood cowboy that has blessed so many people”.   And he said,  “Well, I thought that was the best route to take.  My biggest step up the ladder was when I married Dale Evans, who was way farther up the ladder than I was.”  Then Dales Evans, who was standing right there with us, chimed in:  “Yea, and he almost lost me when I found out that he came together with all those hound dogs of his.”

Roy, and Joe Foss were big quail hunters.  But I got the chance to ask Roy if he had any other hobbies than hunting quail and chasing foxes with his hound dogs.  So, he told me all about his hobby of diligently collecting the songs that the early pioneers sang around their campfires at night on their wagon train trips to Oregon and California.   He has collected as many of those as he could before they were lost to posterity.

I asked Joe Foss when was the last time he and Roy went quail hunting.  He said last season. “When we almost lost Roy.”   Then he related how they were getting lots of quail one afternoon when they shot one quail that fell way across a creek.  So Roy said:   “Don’t worry I will go over and get that quail, because the dogs didn’t even see where it went down.”  However, Joe Foss said that Roy never came back.  He and their friend went down there and found Roy passed-out by the creek.  He had turned blue and really looked bad.  They got the pickup truck and loaded him in the back and headed for town.  Joe said they kept watching him through the back window.  They said he kept fishing around in his pocket with his finger and finally found his bottle of nitroglycerin pills and popped some in his mouth.  In a few minutes he was banging in the back window of the truck wanting to go back hunting.  But they took him on to the hospital.

Now let me get to the real point, and theme of this book.  I asked Joe Foss, “Governor Foss, (I could have said General Foss, for he was later promoted to Brigadier General in the Air National Guard, but he liked ‘Governor’) it is for sure that God protected you in the Pacific.  Time and again you were given up for lost, and here you would come back, walking out of the jungle with a stalk of bananas over your shoulder.   But is there one specific occasion when it was very obvious that God’s Spirit Power just came down and saved you when everything was totally lost and there was no way out”.  And he said, “Yes there was, Ronald, there certainly was”.   So, I asked him to tell me and my group of friends there about it.

So, Governor Foss said that late one evening off a strongly held Japanese island his plane got all shot-up.  His engine sputtered and quit.  He glided low way off the end of that island and ditched in the water.  He managed to get out and into his little yellow life raft just as it was getting dark.  He knew that the Japanese saw him go down and that, in the morning, they would be coming for him.  They knew who he was as flight leader on all those raids and air battles.  He had heard about their torture tactics.  He knew that they would not give him a quick death, but what was going to happen to him could be described as worse than death.  So, he floated there in the water dreading tomorrow morning.

Something else happened, though, as he splashed into the water just before dark.  Some natives on that island, who really hated the Japanese, saw him go down, also.  He was quite a way out there, but they rowed all the way out in their outrigger canoes and were able to find him in the total darkness.  They took him back and hid him, and then passed him along to other natives until he finally got back to his unit.

Governor Joe said you could consider that a fortuitous accident, but that he considered it a divine, lifesaving, intervention of God on his behalf.

So, why, in spite of our good intentions and all of the noble effort by multitudes of such good people, does the “Dark Side” keep winning, time and time again???  Would you really like to know the answer to that?  Then stay with me for just a bit.

The apostle Paul was actually visited by Jesus in real life.  He was the one designated to spread the Gospel message first.  God wanted it spread to the gentiles and the world, and Paul was the first one really doing it.  So, one would expect that God with his mighty angels would have protected Paul for that very, very important task.  Yet time and again he was beat nearly to death by rods and stoned so badly that his oppressors left him for dead.  And he was thrown into foul prisons time and again and held in chains.  Why, just like the first question above?

I believe, as do most good theologians. that God directly influenced Paul to write the truths that God wanted to convey to us.  In the last chapter of Ephesians Paul directly answered the two perplexing questions that were posed above.  Dr. Taylor (who I was privileged to know) translated the answer directly from the Greek texts into the language we use today.  Here is God’s answer to these two questions:

“Put on all of God’s armor so that you will be able to stand safe against all strategies and tricks of Satan.  For we are not fighting against people made of flesh and blood, but against persons without bodies…..the evil rulers of the unseen world, those mighty satanic beings and great evil princes of darkness who rule the world; and against huge numbers of wicked spirits in the spirit world.”

So, since we are up against such mighty odds, should we just bow our heads and accept the winning of the Dark Side.  No, no, no.  For Paul, under direct influence from God, wrote these concluding words in summation:

“Use every piece of God’s armor to resist the enemy whenever he attacks, and when it is all over, you will still be standing up.”  ( In other words, keep fighting and keep your head up!)  “Pray all the time.  Ask God for anything in line with the Holy Spirit’s wishes.  Plead with Him, reminding Him of your needs!” 

So, what is the answer to all this?   What is the conclusion?   Jesus gave us that answer very clearly when He was here on earth as God in the form of a man.  He said that he was coming back.  He exhorted us to be watching for him each and every day. 

When He returns….the skies will spit wide open.  There will be mighty trumpet blasts.  His glory be so awesome and overwhelming that we will all have our faces in the dirt.  He said that he was going to throw the Devil and all his helpers into the lake of fire to reside…..forever!!!

So, folks, take heart, even when the Darke Side keeps winning.  We know for sure what the ultimate answer will be.

The Southern Baptists had an old bob-tail truck on the east coast of Honduras.  A Baptist missionary at Progresso, a suburb of San Pedro Sula kept it.  I was allowed to use it on most every medical trip that I took to that area of the country. 

The truck was quite old with faded blue paint and with wooden rails around the back where my people could stand as we went along.  It was pre-1973 with an old-fashion ignition system, sine most all vehicles post=1973 have a computerized ignition system.

I want to tell you about one afternoon.  The medical team was scheduled to be in a certain remote village for the next two days.  Two of the doctors and some nurses and a few other folks wanted to go visit the place on the afternoon before.  They wanted to decide where we should locate the different parts of the clinic in the school where we were to be and move the desks and benches aside to be all prepared for the next morning.

I was supposed to be at a screening of the Jesus Film at a new Garifina church where the young missionary to the black Garifinas was to show the Jesus Film that night in Spanish, which I had brought with us.  However, I needed to take the group on to that village and try to get back for the last of the film.  I commandeered a local fellow who knew the location of the village, and we all piled into the old bob-tail truck and started up the highway.  As I have mentioned, there was one narrow new blacktop highway that ran along to coast all the way from Tela to La Ceiba down near Nicaragua.  After about 25 miles on the pavement, we turned off onto a dirt road.  We went at least 15 miles and forded two rather large rivers before finally arriving at the village.  There were many houses and shacks scattered around but very little infrastructure there, just the one dirt road through a few buildings that went on down to the school.

We finished our tasks at the school, and just as we were going back through the little group of buildings, the truck suddenly just died.  I tried the ignition, and nothing.  Quite a crowd of people gathered around us and one of them raised the hood.  These people are used to old vehicles so they proceeded to do the first thing that one should do.  They proceeded to take the cables off the battery and scrape the inside of the cable clamps and the battery posts.  They put them back on, clamped the cables down and I was very hopeful.   I got back in the truck, tried the ignition…….and nothing.  Nothing at all.  Not even a grinding sound.

Here we were with dark coming on soon, so many miles from help, and no way to contact anyone from that remote site.  Even if they had a phone somewhere in the village there was no way to get a call back to our folks.  The phones down there at that time were so awkward, almost to the point of impossible.  We were about 30 miles from San Pedro Sula, which has the highest rate of murders of any town on the planet, even those in the Middle East.  You can check that on the internet…..not a good place for all those folks to spend the night. Really, that truck needed to start, but it was just dead. 

I explained all that to the Lord, but I am sure that he already knew.  But what happened next I will never forget.  I went back and looked under the hood.  I know quite a bit about cars and trucks, but I am just lost as a master mechanic.  At that precise moment it was like a force just took hold of me.  I cannot explain it.  There were all kinds of old wires in that engine compartment and at least 30 or 40 black electrical tape covered connections.  But my eyes suddenly became just riveted on one piece of old, black, dry electrical tape.  I reached down and took hold of it and it just came off loose in my fingers.  And there where it had been were two wires that had been twisted together, but were now just loose and apart.

A big noisy “aahhh” went up from the crowd.   I had no idea what those wires went to, but I twisted them back together.  I went back into the cab, tried the ignition, and that old truck fired up as smooth as could be.  Much later I figured that the wires must have gone to the coil that that makes the spark plugs spark, and would be necessary for the truck to run.  However at the time I had no idea, nor could I have known that they were pulled apart……..under that piece of old black tape.

We got on back to Tela just before 9:00 PM.

You can say that I was just lucky, but, folks, I personally consider that specific, divine intervention!  It proved to me, once again, that God’s Spirit Power and His Powerful Angels are really there and available when they are really, really needed.  How could I possibly have known which one of those pieces of black tape needed to be pulled off.

On this one trip to Honduras, it was so very hot and humid.  I worked mostly in the dental clinic, for there were always way more people needing relief from severe dental problems than we could possibly treat.

Before we go, I always ask the doctors going for the first time to go back and study some of the things that they had in medical school but have never seen in their practice in the US.   On this one occasion I remember that an older man came in with advanced jungle rot.  His whole foot was grossly swollen and just covered in a mass of it.  The doctor came over to me and said:  “Ronald, I don’t know what to do about this.  I can’t do an amputation down here.  What shall I do?”  

I told his nurse to spray it all down with Hydrogen Peroxide and bandage it up.  The old gentleman went away happy and smiling.

Also, on this trip, I was walking through the room where the ladies were finding the glasses from all those that had been donated to match the prescriptions that Dr. Youngerman had written.  They were then adjusting them to fit the heads of the patients with that prescription after those glasses had been found.  Just as I was about to leave, I noticed this one lady who was just standing there, quietly crying.

Of course, I asked her what was wrong, like was she ill?  She assured me that she was fine, but that it had to do with this one older Hispanic lady who had just left.  She said that after she had fitted the lady with her new glasses, she just stood there looking at her hands.  She asked the lady if something was wrong with her hands.

Did she need to go see one of the doctors?  The Hispanic lady said that her hands were fine.

She just said:  “This is the first time that I have been able to see my hands in as long as I can remember.”

This just struck an emotional chord with this lovely lady volunteer from Hurst, Texas and brought her to tears.

As you might suspect, finding the optimum job for each volunteer cam be a challenge.  And in that heat and pressure, some folk’s temper gets the better of them late in the day.

On several trips this one guy went with us who was not mean, but just very aggressive.  The other team members called him “Rambo”.   I finally found just the right job for Rambo.  Almost without exception almost everyone down there needs worming.  It won’t last that long with the grownups, but we hope that the children will be able to stay worm free long enough for their mental facilities to develop so that they will not be impaired later in life.  I learned to put Rambo out in the very front of each clinic.   His job was to worm every single person coming into the clinic.  It worked great, and he really “adapted himself” to the task.

But this trip, we encountered a major catastrophe.  We ran out of worm medicine with several more days to go.  I rely on the doctors to furnish the particular drugs that they think that they will need.  Much of the time they are able to use the samples that the drug salesmen leave at their offices.  However, someone slipped up this time and did not order nearly enough worm medicine.

On this trip our pharmacist was the pharmacy director for a Sack-and-Save store in Denton, Texas.  He was a real character.  Some might have described him as a “real piece of work.”  He told me not to worry about it, that he would take care of it.  And he for sure did.  He went to the one agricultural store in that town of Tela and bought a supply of cattle spray.  He was good; he knew what he was doing.  He diluted it down sufficiently with some organic chemicals and that became our worm medicine.  It turned out to be a bright pink, and, wow, was it effective.  I kid you not, for years after that I got calls from down there wanting some more of that pink worm medicine.  They had never had anything so effective.

So, I kept hearing a rumor on this one trip that some of the people had found a little girl and were planning on bringing her back with us.  I did not investigate and did not talk with them, but only when we got to the airport at San Pedro Sula did I see the little girl.  Her mother had dressed her in her best dress, and she was just a darling girl with the most engaging smile.  Her problem was that this massive growth covered the whole area of what would have been her right eye…….that whole area of her face.  I guessed her to be about 9 years old.

One of the doctors with us had called his friend in Mississippi who he knew specialized in such things.  The doctor in Mississippi had promised to operate on her.  Other than that horrible growth, she was just the cutest thing with her very best dress on.  Her name is Valentina.

I did not see her again until we got to Houston.  I waited until most all of our group had gone through immigration.  Then I looked way over where those huge curtains were pulled back from the floor to ceiling windows in the Houston terminal.  There was this group of our people with the little girl.  No one was headed toward immigration so I went over to see what was wrong.

They had panicked.  They had realized that this girl had no passport and no visa to enter the United States.  No one wanted to be the person to try to take her up to immigration, so they just handed her to me.

I don’t know how to tell you what happened next.  Just believe me. 

At that moment this powerful rush of power or energy just invaded my body.  It seemed to permeate every single cell.  I suddenly felt as if I could walk through fire or even walk on water.  I just took that little girl by the hand and said:  “Come on ‘little darlin’ Valentina, let’s go to the Estados Unidos”.  I headed straight ahead to the first open immigration station.

I had my passport out, but, of course, she had nothing, not even any ID.  There behind the counter was this huge black man in his green uniform.  He was not fat, he was just really huge and quit official and imposing looking.  He looked down at that little girl, and she just smiled up at him.  Big tears welled up in his eyes.  All he could say was:  “Lord bless you sir, Lord bless you sir.  You all just go right on.”  

He did not check my passport or anything as respects Valentina.  So, we just went right on.  She sat next to me on the flight to Dallas.  When we got there, I took her on up to my ranch west of Denton, Texas.  She really enjoyed visiting with my two daughters and my two youngest sons by the swimming pool that looks out over the prairie.  They were so kind to her. 

Before dark, I took her back to Carrollton to Onelia.  Onelia escorted her to Mississippi the next morning.

A few days later I called Onelia to inquire about the operation.  She said that it was successful, but that the doctors told her that they estimated that the girl would have died in only 3 more weeks without that operation.

Onelia hopes to get her an artificial eye, later, some day.

On every trip that I took to Honduras, this wonderful, impressive lady went with us.  Her name is Barbara Borre.   She is over six feet tall and perfectly proportioned, not overweight and not skinny and very nice looking.  She was one of the top Immigration Officials in the Dallas Region.  Barbara just effused authority.  Since her shoulders were a little wider than most women and the military way in which she carried herself made her all the more impressive, especially when she put on her Immigration uniform.

It was very helpful to have her on those trips, since she could tell us what we could take out of the US and what we could bring in.  On every trip she worked in the Dental Clinic. 

When she heard about the little Honduran girl that I have just described and how she was able to get into the US without a passport or even a visa, here is what Barbara said to me:  “Ronald, I can tell you with authority, that was absolutely a miracle from God!”

PS:  When writing this, I became curious about whatever happened to Valentina, so I called down there to Honduras just now.  They told me that she was living up in the mountains with her father and doing fine.

Our medical teams would usually go to the east coast of Honduras.  There are so many really poor villages of people there along the coast and inland from there.  However, like I related, we went two times into the Province of Yoro and the town of Yoro with teams sponsored by First Baptist Church of Carrollton, Texas. 

There is a strange thing that happens every year and sometimes twice a year at Yoro.  Fish fall from the sky.  The locals call it, lluvia de pesces.

When I first heard of it, of course I did not believe it.  How could such happen.  But I met so many people from there, including my eventual evangelist lady, Onelia, that had gathered the fish in baskets and had sea food that they only get to eat that one or two times a year.  They consider it a gift from God, and so many of these people are so desperately poor that they really need the protein, especially at that time of the summer.

This has been happening for generations.   They say that in the mid 1800’s a Catholic missionary named Manuel de Jesús Subirana came to Yoro to minister to the people.  He was so distressed over their poverty and lack of food that he fasted and prayed for three days and three nights.  The people say that immediately after that the fish started falling and have done so ever since.  A team form National Geographic actually got to be there and record it in the 1970’s.  And on our second trip to Yoro I missed it by only two weeks.

There is a mountain range just to the west of Yoro.  Onelia said that when the clouds got extremely black coming over those mountains she would ask the priest if it was time.  He would say that they need to be even more black.  Finally, he would say:  “Get your baskets, it is time”.  And after those clouds have passed, they would go out to this field and fill their baskets with fish.

Having an engineering degree and having taken all those science courses, I really wanted an explanation; so I set out to find the answer.  Sometimes the fish are small and silver colored like sardines, but more often they are much larger.  I got Onelia and some of the other people there to draw me pictures of exactly what the larger fish looked like. 

I have had some great times with my father catching big sail fish in the Pacific fairly near shore in southern Mexico.  Every time we went out, we would pass large schools of bonito schooling right on top of the water.

Those pictures that they drew looked exactly like the bonito, which are related to tuna fish.

Almost every afternoon, cold air would drift out from the mountains there and water spouts would drop down and just “play around” over the water.  Sometimes we would have to wait until they went back up into the clouds before we could get back with our boat to where we were staying.  I just know that sometimes those bonito were sucked up and carried over the mountains to Yoro.   But you say, how could a storm be that strong?

On the afternoon that our medical team was coming back from the mountain where we met with the Indians that had never seen a white men.  In our eclectic caravan of cars and trucks, we saw a storm coming toward us from the west.  I have seen lots of weather, but I have never seen clouds that incredibly black and lightning that intense.   Sometimes in Texas storm clouds will look dark blue, but these were absolutely black.  I did not hear of any fish coming down that day, but I could see how a storm that intense could keep fish up there and carry them east.

Of course, the people there consider it a direct gift from God, and I would not dispute them.  They really need the protein.  Sometimes the fish fall in town, but almost without exception, for several generations the fish fall in a particular field next to a suburb of Yoro called, La Unión.  They even have a festival and parade in little La Unión every year where they elect a “Miss Falling Fish” as queen…..Senorita Lluvia de Peces…….or, Miss Fish Rain.   She rides in a float dressed as a mermaid.

Since I know some of you still won’t believe this, here is an article from the New York Times from last summer: 

Every Year the Sky ‘Rains Fish’

By KIRK SEMPLE

JULY 16, 2017, THE NEW YORK TIMES

YORO, Honduras — Things don’t come easy in La Unión, a small community on the periphery of Yoro, a farming town in north-central Honduras.

(Click on this site and read about it, or paste it in your browser)

https://www.nytimes.com/2017/07/16/world/americas/honduras-rain-fish-yoro.html

Like I wrote before, here in the U.S. which has so many churches and Christian media, evidently God does not need to show his Spirit Power so much..   However, you get far enough away to places with little Christian influence, and one gets to see actual manifestations of God’s Spirit Power.

After we left Khao-I-Dang we did not find out until the next day that the North Vietnamese had probed and killed 30 people right there at the intersection in front of the Khao-I-Dang Camp just after we left.  You may recall that I wrote about the man at that camp who had been the only pastor in Cambodia, and how the Khmer Rouge had found him and put him into one of their killing fields camps.  I told how God had actually sent one of his “shinning angels” to miraculously protect him from certain execution, just like others Billy Graham wrote about in his book, Angels.

However, we wanted to visit one more refugee camp before dark, Sa Kaeo II.  By now things were working just as the KGB had planned.  The North Vietnamese Communists were coming into Cambodia and driving the Khmer Rouge out.  This was a new camp and was already mostly populated by Khmer Rouge refugees who were themselves escaping Cambodia.

When we arrived, they were pulling this enormous chain across the entrance to block any North Vietnamese tanks from coming in.  There were no UN people there.  The place was run by a Thai officer.  They called him down to the entrance to check our credentials, and right away we found how casual this place was.  He came down only clad in his T-shirt and his drawers.  He was really nice.   He put a soldier on the outside step of our little bus with his automatic weapon and told us to go anywhere we wished.

Everything there was made of big stalks of bamboo, and most all of it was still green.  The people here were much younger than the previous camp, and there were many young children.

I walked up to the top of a hill where a Swiss NGO had constructed a hospital.  All workers at the hospital had already gone home, but there was a group of the most interesting young boys gathered there.  They were all between the ages of 12 and 16.  But what was so strange was that almost every one of them had some kind of injury.  Some had lost a leg or an arm or and eye, but most just had flesh wounds that were almost healed.  They all crowded around me, for they were all in the process of learning English in the hopes of getting to the US some day and had never met an American.

One of the older ones was named Hem-Hatch.  He could speak fairly good English, so I asked him about all these boys.  Where were their parents?  He said:  “No parents.”  So I asked:  “What is your story?”   So, he told me that they all had the same story.  They had all been in Cambodia in different villages.  The Khmer Rouge had come to their villages and lined everyone up and started going down the line, shooting every person, one at a time.  These guys saw their parents and siblings shot.  They realized that if they did not get out of there, they were going to be dead.  So, they just bolted for the jungle.  They ran as fast as they could, zigzagging as they ran to dodge the bullets.  Most had been hit at least once or lost an eye to the thorns as they crashed through the jungle.   What a strange group of orphans, but they were full of energy and enthusiasm. 

I corresponded with Hem-hatch for quite a while and sent him some Thai Baht that I could buy at a Dallas bank.  I don’t know what finally happened to him.  In the last letter I received from him he stated that he had the chance to go to France, but they were trying to get him to go back into Cambodia.  I wrote him to get his rear-end into France, for I knew that the North Vietnamese were intercepting those repatriation busses as soon as they crossed the border and killing everyone on them.

When I got back to our little bus, the folks there had found this young lady.  She was somewhere between age 19 to 24.  She was one of those new Christians that were coming out of Cambodia that I mentioned earlier.  And they were not just casual Christians.   That terror had bonded them so close to God that it was spooky.  This girl had taken upon herself the task to teach bible stories and Christian principals to every young child in the camp that she possibly could.  She was teaching groups of children all day and into the night.  There were 90,000 people already in that camp.  She stayed on the verge of exhaustion all the time.  Her dream was to get to the US and attend a bible-oriented college some day.

She gave me the name and address of a young lady friend who worked for the UN and would be able to bring things into the camp to her.  When I got back to Dallas I went to several Christian book stores and bought all the different boxes of felt bible stories and sent them to her.  Those are where you put up the different characters of a bible story on a felt board for the children as you tell the story.  She wrote back how thrilled she was and how she used them to great effect for all those children.  I also sent her quite a lot of Thai Baht so that she could buy things such as soccer balls for the older children.

So, before we left, we wanted to have a prayer for this lovely young Christian lady.  I was sitting on the front row of the little bus and she sat just above me on the chrome supports.  After we prayed, she prayed.  And I will never forget for the rest of my life what happened.  The bus was air conditioned, so it must have been cooler than normal for her.   But as she prayed, I felt water dripping down onto me.  When that girl prayed, the intensity of her prayer, the intensity of her communication with God, caused her to become wet all over.  Evidently, because of the necessity of what she was doing, God had infused her with a prodigious amount of his mighty Spirit Power.

To this day, I feel guilty that I have never been able to pray like that……with the intensity of that girl.