The story that follows is based on the actual experiences of Rune Mentzer, a Corporal in the 8th Air Force. He served the United States from 1943-1945 in the Second World War. He was a freshman at Bethel College in St. Paul, Minnesota when he received his draft notice. Rune entered the Air Force and trained to be a pilot but then was reassigned and worked as a radar technician. While fixing and inspecting the radar on B24 planes, he received several Bronze Stars for his participation in success of long-range bombing missions. Although, after immigrating from Sweden, Rune grew up in Meriden, he now lives in Canton, Connecticut. He is retired and enjoys spending time on his boat with his wife Lillian and his six grandchildren.

Six Words

The message contained six words; just six simple words that could change his life forever. He held the small piece of paper in his hands so tightly that his fingers left sweat marks on the corners of the paper. He took deep, gulping breaths in order to calm his racing heartbeat. The message read: “Report to your Civilian Flight Instructor.” Six words.

Soft rain fell on the worry lines etched across his brow. Cool breezes kissed his pursed lips as he unconsciously bit the inside of his bottom lip. Freshly-wet grass sunk under his slow, heavy footsteps. The dreaded walk to his Civilian Flight Instructor’s office was filled with

apprehension and fear-- apprehension of the unknown and fear of the

inevitable. Inside the office, he sat with his back straight against the hard oak chair. His feet were planted firmly on the floor, yet he wiggled and squeezed his toes as if this movement would somehow release the tension he felt throughout his body. His hands were folded in his lap, his left thumb rubbing a small hangnail on the corner of his right thumb. He desperately tried to hide the emotion in his Swedish blue eyes, tried to close the shutters of the windows to his soul.

The Civilian Flight Instructor sat stoically at his desk, his starched uniform exuding his personality. In an apathetic and languid voice, he stated “Rune, you cannot be a pilot.” Six words.

The muscles in his back tightened. He stopped wiggling his toes. He stopped rubbing his hangnail. His eyes did not blink. It was what he

had feared. An enormous wave of disappointment and sadness washed over his tense body. The word failure reverberated in his mind. He felt

shame and its color red rise on his face. Why did he have to get air

sick during the aerial stunts? He was the best flier in his troop, the

first to solo. He was an accomplished athlete, a varsity basketball

player in high school and college. He was an experienced sailor, who no

matter the weather, never got seasick.

The Instructor’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “You’re reassigned as a radar technician.” Six words.

But he loved flying! Whenever he was speeding through the sky, he felt incredible freedom. He could go anywhere he wanted; he was uninhibited; he could leave the war behind. Flying gave him a thrill. His heart would pound so hard in his chest that he could feel it in his ears; his palms would slowly become sweaty as he tightly gripped the steering stick. He would imagine himself flying a B24 over enemy territory, dangerously risking his life for his country. A pilot was important, respected; who cared about a radar technician? Why did he have to get airsick during the aerial stunts?

As he sat rigidly in the hard oak chair with all these thoughts racing through his mind, one phrase kept reoccurring: God, why are you doing this? Six words.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At that moment, thousands of miles away, three women sat around the breakfast table. Empty coffee mugs, a half-full pitcher of orange juice, and the crumbs of Swedish bulyar discarded on flowered plates were pushed toward the center of the table. The rays of the rising sun poured though the kitchen window and reflected off the crystal vase filled with daffodils sitting amidst the dishes on the table. But the women didn’t see these beautiful rays of sunlight or even the robin perched outside the kitchen window. They were clasping each other’s hands with their heads bowed and eyes closed-- his mother, his

girlfriend, and his close family friend. They pray fervently and earnestly, “God, keep Rune out of danger.” Six words