James Allen Ward, twenty-two years old, was a citizen of New Zealand. He was also a Sergeant in the Royal New Zealand Air Force, serving with 75 (NZ) Squadron, Royal Air Force during the Second World War. It was during the war that Sergeant James Allen Ward committed a deed of great bravery.
Sergeant Ward was second pilot of a Wellington bomber AA-R on July 7, 1941 when, after an attack on Munster, Germany, fire broke out in the plane. The plane’s skipper told James to try to put out the fire. But how? The plane was flying at 13,000 feet above the Zuider Zee, a landlocked inlet on the coast of Holland.
Quickly, the young sergeant secured a rope around his waist. He crawled out of the aircraft through a narrow astro-hatch, and move quickly to the back of the starboard engine that was burning, tearing hand and foot-holes in the wing as he went. He smothered the flames with an engine cover, and turned back toward the fuselage. His return trip was more dangerous, working around those holes he had made, but he made it and crawled to safety. The bomber went on to its destination, and landed safely.
Later that summer, Sergeant James Allen Ward was awarded a Victoria Cross for his act of bravery, and was summoned to #10 Downing Street to be congratulated by Sir Winston Churchill. When the shy young New Zealander arrived, Churchill began to ask about the incident. Sergeant Ward, however, was dumbfounded in the prime minister’s presence. He somehow found himself unable to answer the questions. His action had been necessary for his own safety, as well as for the safety of others, and he did not view it as something worthy of this owner. He had exercised great responsibility, but he was not puffed up with himself. Rather, he felt small and insignificant in the presence of the great prime minister.
Churchill looked at the young man with apparent empathy, and said, “You must feel very humble and awkward in my presence.”
“Yes, sir,” Ward replied.
“Then you can imagine,” Churchill told him, “how humble and awkward I feel in yours.”
Two men, each recognized for greatness, humble in one another’s presence. I’m not sure how often those two men exercised the character trait humility, or how many other qualities from the list of character traits they had built into their lives. But for that moment, in that place, they laid aside any temptation to arrogance or haughtiness, and exercised humility toward one another. Each one looked upon the other as being better than he himself was. If we had been in the room, we would likely have been deeply affected.
Sergeant Ward was killed in action on September 15, 1941, in Hamburg, Germany. I imagine, though, that in those two brief months, he often thought of the great Prime Minister’s words. Perhaps he tried, as a result, to build greater humility in his own life.
Character is not puffed up with itself. It is neither proud nor assertive. It freely and voluntarily defers to others, letting them occupy life’s podiums and pedestals.
Wouldn’t it be wonderful if there were more humility in your world and mine?
That’s the view from my chair. What’s your view?