A Story About Spying

My father was a B-17 bomber pilot in the European theater of WW2, who, by 1944, had flown with his 10-man crew, 29 successful missions destroying Nazi crude oil refineries.  They were shot down on November 25 of that year, on the return trip from what would have been their 30th. Still over Germany, about 10 miles short of the French border and having lost three of their four engines, they had run out of luck.

Dad and his men had no option but to bail out, parachute to the ground, and hope for the best.  They did, however, have a decision to make, and an important one at that.  They had the choice to remain in uniform, making them easy to identify (and capture) as allied troops.  Alternatively, they could change into civilian clothes, making it far easier for them to make their way on foot into neighboring France.

There was a considerable risk, however.  Choosing to remain in uniform prohibited the Germans, under international law, from gunning them down on sight; if captured, they would be made POWs and released at the end of the war.  On the other hand, changing clothes enabled the Germans, legally, to treat them as spies and execute them by firing squad.

This tale is only partially a tribute to my father.  It’s far more a story whose point is simply this: For common Americans like my father who did their duty protecting our country from fascism, the decision to risk being caught as a spy had potentially lethal consequences.  But if you’re not lucky enough to be Donald Trump, spying can result in 12 bullets through your head.

But, for the former president, it’s just another joke on the American “people,” or at least our “people” as we formerly knew them to be: honorable and brave.