Amid the bloody conflicts between good and evil, sometimes mercy prevails. That was the case during World War II on December 20, 1943.

On that day, Army Air Force 2d Lt. Charles “Charlie” Brown, a 21-year-old West Virginia native, had completed a bombing run over Bremen, Germany, in his B-17 Flying Fortress, “Ye Olde Pub.” Flying with the 527th Bombardment Squadron of the 379th Bombardment Group, VIII Bomber Command, Charlie and his crew of nine targeted a Focke-Wulf 190 aircraft production facility.

Warned in the pre-flight briefing that they were likely to encounter a significant German fighter offense, their plane was assigned the “Purple Heart Corner” out on the edge of the bomber formation. It was named such because that position was particularly vulnerable to German fighter attack as they targeted bombers on the edges of formations, but after several bombers were forced to return due to mechanical failures, Brown moved his plane to the front of the formation.

Before reaching the target, Ye Olde Pub had already taken some hits from flak — one round shattering the Plexiglas nose of the aircraft and another knocking out the #2 engine and damaging the #4 engine. With the engine damage, Charlie’s plane was unable to keep pace with the formation and fell back.

Shortly after the bombing run, Charlie’s plane and crew were attacked by more than 10 fighters, primarily Messerschmitt Bf 109s and Focke-Wulf Fw 190s. The attack lasted for 10 minutes, an eternity under the circumstances over enemy territory. The sustained assault resulted in killed and wounded crew by flak and fighter rounds: Tail gunner Sgt. Hugh “Ecky” Eckenrode was killed; right waist gunner Sgt. Alex “Russian” Yelesanko was critically wounded; ball turret gunner Sgt. Samuel “Blackie” Blackford’s feet were frozen due to shorted-out heating elements in his boots; Sgt. Richard “Dick” Pechout suffered a severe eye injury; and Brown had a right shoulder wound.

The wave of Luftwaffe fighters had also damaged the B-17’s internal oxygen, electric, and hydraulic systems, and half its rudder and port elevator were destroyed. As Charlie’s plane limped along far behind the formation with only about 40% power, his severely damaged aircraft was spotted from the ground by a German Ace pilot — Oberleutnant Ludwig Franz Stigler. Stigler, who had 27 victories, took off in hot pursuit of Ye Olde Pub in his Me 109 G-6.

Before Stigler caught up with the bomber, Charlie had already narrowly averted crashing. The severed oxygen supply from the prior attack caused the pilots to black out until their plane had descended under 8,000 feet. As Charlie recovered consciousness, he pulled up and leveled off in time, with only one of his three operating engines able to reach full power. The mighty Fortress, a tough old bird, kept on flying.

As Stigler reached the American bomber and surveyed the heavy damage, it was clear that finishing off the crew would be as easy as shooting a fish in a barrel.

When the enemy fighter approached their starboard side, copilot Spencer Luke said, “My God, this is a nightmare.” Charlie responded, “He’s going to destroy us.”

But Stigler, to the surprise of the B-17 pilots and crew, did not open fire. Instead, he waved at the crew and signaled to keep their course. He hoped the B-17 would divert to the Netherlands, where they could bail or land and get the medical attention Charlie’s crew desperately needed.

It was not clear to Brown what Stigler wanted him to do, but it was clear he was not going to shoot them down. Stigler pulled in close to the wounded B-17 in order to protect them from additional German fighter and anti-aircraft fire. He then escorted the bomber across the North Sea coast to open water, saluted the crew, and turned back to Germany. Stigler recalls thinking, “Good luck, you’re in God’s hands.”

Against all odds, Brown was able to fly the 250-mile distance across the North Sea in order to land his plane at the 448th Bomb Group’s RAF Seething base. In his postflight debrief, he noted that the German pilot had let him and his crew go but was advised not to publicize this to avoid any sentimental favor it might create toward the enemy pilots. As Brown recalled, “Someone decided you can’t be human and be flying in a German cockpit.”

Why had this then-unknown German pilot not finished off Charlie’s crew, risking his own court-martial for showing the B-17 crew mercy?

There were two reasons he should have shot the plane down. First, earlier that day, he had shot down two other American bombers, and one more would qualify him for a Knight’s Cross. Second, if it was reported he refused to shoot the plane down, that court-martial offense could have resulted in his execution.

At the time, Stigler recalled his commanding officer’s order: “You follow the rules of war for you — not your enemy. You fight by rules to keep your humanity.”

But Stigler acted on the advice he recalled from a better angel, his commanding officer during the North Africa campaign. Gustav Rödel told him then, “If I ever see or hear of you shooting at a man in a parachute, I will shoot you myself.” Stigler would later recall of Charlie Brown’s plane was “the most heavily damaged aircraft I ever saw that was still flying.” Of the B-17 crew, he said: “I cannot kill these half-dead people. To me, it was just like they were in a parachute. I saw them, and I couldn’t shoot them down.”

Fortunately for Stigler, word of his actions did not get back to his command.

After the war concluded, Brown returned to his home in West Virginia, finished college, and returned to Air Force service for two more decades. He would later become a Foreign Service Officer until his retirement when he and his wife Jackie moved to Florida. But he never forgot the German who spared his life.

In 1986, then-retired Lt. Col. Brown was a guest speaker at a “Gathering of the Eagles” pilot reunion event at the Air Command and Staff College, Maxwell Air Force Base, Alabama. When asked about his most memorable career moment, he related the story of being spared by that German Me 109 fighter pilot.

It was then that Charlie made it his life’s mission to find that pilot. But after four years of searching, culminating with his review of West German air force records, he came up with little that might help identify that Luftwaffe pilot. As a last measure, Charlie wrote an open letter to a German newsletter for former Luftwaffe pilots.

Three months later, he received a response: “Dear Charles, All these years I wondered what happened to the B-17, did she make it or not?” The pilot confirmed, “I was the one.” In a phone call, Stigler, who had moved to Canada after the war, described all the details of that day to Charlie — the location and damage to the B-17, how he provided safe escort to the coast, and his salute before departing. “My God, it’s you!” Brown exclaimed, adding later in a letter to Stigler, “To say THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU on behalf of my surviving crew members and their families appears totally inadequate.”

Soon thereafter, the two old adversaries arranged to meet at Charlie’s home in Florida. Stigler greeted him with, “I love you, Charlie.” They became close friends for the remainder of their lives.

For his part, in 1993, Stigler received the “Star of Peace” awarded by the Combatants Federation of Europe.

After years of advocacy by Brown, in 2008, each of his crew members was awarded, personally or posthumously, Silver Stars. For his part, Charlie received the Air Force Cross just before his death that year. Charlie and Franz died just months apart. Brown was 87, and Stigler was 92.

Charlie’s waist gunner, Lloyd Jennings, was the last surviving crew member. He died in 2016.

Perhaps the best explanation for Stigler’s mercy was a short inscription in a German fighter aircraft book he gave Charlie: “In 1940, I lost my only brother as a night fighter. On the 20th of December, 4 days before Christmas, I had the chance to save a B-17 from her destruction, a plane so badly damaged it was a wonder that she was still flying. The pilot, Charlie Brown, is for me, as precious as my brother was. Thanks Charlie. Your Brother, Franz.”

And I suspect that Stigler, like many Germans, was convicted that he and his country were on the wrong side of history and humanity.

The full story of their mission and subsequent friendship was the subject of the 2012 book A Higher Call by Adam Makos and Larry Alexander. “The war left them in turmoil,” Makos observed. “When they found each other, they found peace.”

Lt. Col. Charles Brown and Oberleutnant Franz Stigler, thank you for your example of honor and mercy among mortal enemies.

(You can view an animation here.)

“Greater love has no one than this, to lay down one’s life for his friends.” (John 15:13) Live your life worthy of their sacrifice.

(Read more Profiles of Valor here.)

Semper Vigilans Fortis Paratus et Fidelis
Pro Deo et Libertate — 1776

Follow Mark Alexander on X/Twitter.

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