Eddie Rickenbacker, easily one of the most colorful characters in American history, came to understand how God, in spite desperate situations, could take care of you.
He was a World War I flying ace who downed twenty-six enemy aircraft, a designer and builder of his own automobiles, one of the very first race-car drivers, and the owner and operator of the Indianapolis Speedway for twenty years. He also survived two plane crashes, the second of which set him on a particularly hard road.
The year was 1942. Eddie was asked the secretary of war to deliver a message to General Douglas MacArthur, who was headquartered at Port Moresby, New Guinea, in the South Pacific. The message was so sensitive that it couldn't be put in paper, so it was given to Eddie orally and he committed it to memory. On the night of October 18, he took off with a crew of eight from an airbase in Hawaii, not realizing that he was embarking on perhaps the most incredible adventure of his already amazing life.
The flight required a circuitous rout, because the Japanese controlled the waters in a straight line between Hawaii and New Guinea. That, along with a slight navigational error and a stronger-than-anticipated tailwind, cause the plain to overshoot the island that was their destination. Before they realized what was happening, they found themselves so far from land that they didn't have enough fuel to get back. The only option they had was to ditch the plane in the middle of the ocean.
The pilot managed to get the plane down safely, and it stayed afloat until all the men could climb aboard the two rafts that no one believed they'd ever have to use. At that point they were all alive, but facing three enormous problems.. The first was they had left their water and rations on the plane all they had between them were a dozen chocolate bars and a few oranges.
The second problem was that they had no idea where they were.
And the third--and by far their biggest problem--was that no one else knew where they were either. They were certain that military aircraft would be dispatched to search for them, but they were equally certain that those planes would be looking in all the wrong places.
This, of course, was not the first time Eddie Rickenbacker had stared death in face. He was actually quite experienced at it so the rest of the men allowed him to assume control of the situation. Immediately he set up a system of two-hour watches so their would be eyes on the water and the skies at all time. Then he formulated a schedule for eating the oranges and candy bars. Finally, he determined that they would pray together twice a day, morning and evening.
One of the men had a small New Testament in his pocket, so it wasn't long before their little prayer times turned into a full-blown worship services. They would pass the little Bible around, find their favorite Scriptures to read aloud, and sing the hymns they had learned as boys in Sunday school. They couldn't always remember the words, but they sang anyway, often at the tops of their lungs, as if to scare away the demons that were hovering overhead and waiting to steal their hope.
It was on the eighth day at sea that something amazing happened.
The men were desperately hungry and spent a good bit of their prayer time pleading for God's mercy. When they finished, Eddie settled back in the raft and pulled his cap over his face to shield his eyes from the sun. He'd just dozed off when he felt something land on his head. He couldn't see it, but somehow he knew it was a seagull. All of the men froze and no one said a word. The last thing they wanted to do was scared it away. They know that if they could somehow catch it, they could eat.
Ever so slowly, a fraction of an inch at a time, Eddie moved his trembling hand toward the bird. Again, he couldn't see it, but he painted a mental image of where it would be, judging from the pressure on his head. Excruciating seconds assed as his hand slowly moved into position. The men held their breaths and prayed like never before. Then, in a flash, Eddie grabbed for the bird, caught it by the feet, and hung on for dear life. Its fluttering wings kicked up a tornado of dancing feathers but there would be no escape.
In minutes, the bird was defeathered and cut into eight equal pieces. The men chewed the tough, sinewy eat slowly, bones and all, and felt that it was the finest-tasting meal they'd ever enjoyed.
And they were just getting started. When they finished eating, they rigged a fishing line and used the bird's intestines for bait. In no time, one of the men landed a twelve-inch mackerel, and then Eddie himself pulled in a sea bass. In a matter of minutes, they went from being half-dad from starvation to finally alive with bulging stomachs.
And that's not all.
That very night, it rained for the first time since the crash. The men caught the water in their bailing buckets and lay back their mouths open to catch as much as they could. Eddie would later remark later that nothing ever tasted so good, before or since.
Was it just a coincidence that all of these good things started happening within five minutes after the men finished pleading for God's mercy? One could almost believe so, except for one thin. The bird was hundreds of miles from land. What seagull flies hundreds of miles straight into the middle of the ocean, unless it's keeping a divine appointment?
(from Walking with God on the Road You Never Wanted to Travel, Mark Atteberry, © 2005, Nelson Books)
He was a World War I flying ace who downed twenty-six enemy aircraft, a designer and builder of his own automobiles, one of the very first race-car drivers, and the owner and operator of the Indianapolis Speedway for twenty years. He also survived two plane crashes, the second of which set him on a particularly hard road.
The year was 1942. Eddie was asked the secretary of war to deliver a message to General Douglas MacArthur, who was headquartered at Port Moresby, New Guinea, in the South Pacific. The message was so sensitive that it couldn't be put in paper, so it was given to Eddie orally and he committed it to memory. On the night of October 18, he took off with a crew of eight from an airbase in Hawaii, not realizing that he was embarking on perhaps the most incredible adventure of his already amazing life.
The flight required a circuitous rout, because the Japanese controlled the waters in a straight line between Hawaii and New Guinea. That, along with a slight navigational error and a stronger-than-anticipated tailwind, cause the plain to overshoot the island that was their destination. Before they realized what was happening, they found themselves so far from land that they didn't have enough fuel to get back. The only option they had was to ditch the plane in the middle of the ocean.
The pilot managed to get the plane down safely, and it stayed afloat until all the men could climb aboard the two rafts that no one believed they'd ever have to use. At that point they were all alive, but facing three enormous problems.. The first was they had left their water and rations on the plane all they had between them were a dozen chocolate bars and a few oranges.
The second problem was that they had no idea where they were.
And the third--and by far their biggest problem--was that no one else knew where they were either. They were certain that military aircraft would be dispatched to search for them, but they were equally certain that those planes would be looking in all the wrong places.
This, of course, was not the first time Eddie Rickenbacker had stared death in face. He was actually quite experienced at it so the rest of the men allowed him to assume control of the situation. Immediately he set up a system of two-hour watches so their would be eyes on the water and the skies at all time. Then he formulated a schedule for eating the oranges and candy bars. Finally, he determined that they would pray together twice a day, morning and evening.
One of the men had a small New Testament in his pocket, so it wasn't long before their little prayer times turned into a full-blown worship services. They would pass the little Bible around, find their favorite Scriptures to read aloud, and sing the hymns they had learned as boys in Sunday school. They couldn't always remember the words, but they sang anyway, often at the tops of their lungs, as if to scare away the demons that were hovering overhead and waiting to steal their hope.It was on the eighth day at sea that something amazing happened.
The men were desperately hungry and spent a good bit of their prayer time pleading for God's mercy. When they finished, Eddie settled back in the raft and pulled his cap over his face to shield his eyes from the sun. He'd just dozed off when he felt something land on his head. He couldn't see it, but somehow he knew it was a seagull. All of the men froze and no one said a word. The last thing they wanted to do was scared it away. They know that if they could somehow catch it, they could eat.
Ever so slowly, a fraction of an inch at a time, Eddie moved his trembling hand toward the bird. Again, he couldn't see it, but he painted a mental image of where it would be, judging from the pressure on his head. Excruciating seconds assed as his hand slowly moved into position. The men held their breaths and prayed like never before. Then, in a flash, Eddie grabbed for the bird, caught it by the feet, and hung on for dear life. Its fluttering wings kicked up a tornado of dancing feathers but there would be no escape.
In minutes, the bird was defeathered and cut into eight equal pieces. The men chewed the tough, sinewy eat slowly, bones and all, and felt that it was the finest-tasting meal they'd ever enjoyed.
And they were just getting started. When they finished eating, they rigged a fishing line and used the bird's intestines for bait. In no time, one of the men landed a twelve-inch mackerel, and then Eddie himself pulled in a sea bass. In a matter of minutes, they went from being half-dad from starvation to finally alive with bulging stomachs.
And that's not all.
That very night, it rained for the first time since the crash. The men caught the water in their bailing buckets and lay back their mouths open to catch as much as they could. Eddie would later remark later that nothing ever tasted so good, before or since.
Was it just a coincidence that all of these good things started happening within five minutes after the men finished pleading for God's mercy? One could almost believe so, except for one thin. The bird was hundreds of miles from land. What seagull flies hundreds of miles straight into the middle of the ocean, unless it's keeping a divine appointment?
(from Walking with God on the Road You Never Wanted to Travel, Mark Atteberry, © 2005, Nelson Books)
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