Staring at a Bomb
The battle off the coast of Norway went on for twenty hours. Seaman Robert Case was firing his anti-aircraft gun at real targets for the first time. He quickly became a veteran. His ship, the SS Steel Worker, had several near-misses as enemy aircraft darted over and through the convoy. Suddenly, two Messerschmitts bore in from an altitude of about 2,000 feet, their wings thin black lines in the distance. As Case stared through his sights, those wings grew thicker and flames began to erupt from them. Keeping his eyes to the sights and hand on the trigger he opened fire. The empty shell casings started clattering over the deck under his feet. Then, time seemed to stand still:
The aftermost plane peeled off… The other kept on, right into our fire, smack for us. Then he dropped it, a 550pounder. He was gone, away from our fire, and… all we could do was look up at that bomb. It fell, slanting with the pull of the plane’s speed. It whirled, screaming and howling in the air directly over-head. We could very clearly see the cylindrical khaki shape, the fins, even the white blur that was the serial markings on the side. This was for us, we thought. This was death… the sound of it seemed to possess all sound103
Then, according to Case, the bomb “veered a bit.” It struck the sea twenty feet astern of the Steel Worker, lifting the ship in the water and splitting deck plates. Case and his shipmates were water-soaked from the blast, but alive.
No one would ever fault a man for looking death in the face and fighting to survive, as Case and his shipmates did. When Christ looked death in the face, however, he didn’t fight. He allowed himself to be crucified, even though he knew the anguish that horrible death would bring. His resurrection spelled victory both for him and for all of us who accept the gift of salvation he offers to us. (JG)
Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?
—1 Corinthians 15:55