Colonel Jimmy Stewart stood looking out the window of his hut in England. He gazed in the direction of the English Channel and toward the continent beyond. Tomorrow he would command a squadron of B-24 Liberator Bombers on a dangerous mission over Germany. It was understood that some of the planes would not return; that some of the flyers would die or be captured. Jimmy Stewart was afraid.

He replaced the blackout curtain, turned and sat on his metal cot. Switching on a small light, he pulled from his pocket a letter that was worn and creased from being unfolded and folded so often. It was a letter written to him by his father, a veteran of World War I, a letter lovingly penned on the oak desk of his hardware store in Indiana, Pennsylvania. The note was one of understanding, affirming the …