Harry Giselman

It happened during World War II. After a year in radio school and another year at the Monterey Naval Station, I joined my ship in Hawaii and headed into a hot battle zone. Our first night out was very dark; there was no moon and no lights anywhere. We were at war. All I could see was the white wake of the ship as we plowed through the Pacific. Was I depressed? There is no word for it! Homesick? You had better believe it! I stood there on the fantail of the ship, looking into the darkness, and thought, “I will never make it. I just cannot stand it!” I cried until every tear seemed to be drained out of me—just like water running out of a tube. When the tears were gone, it was over. I was a new man. I said to myself, “I am a sailor now and I am going to stay here and do my job, if I stay here one year or five years.” I would have been ever so glad to see my wife, but the farthest thought from my mind was to go home.

At that time I was a sinner and living like one. However, I still feared the Lord. Once I told my buddy, “Doc, we should go to church today: it is Easter.” “What difference does that make?” was his comeback. I said, “Well, after all, we should go.” We went, but we had a very poor chaplain. When we left the service, Doc said, “Is that all there is to religion?” I told him, “Doc, I could tell you things about religion that are beautiful. That chaplain hasn’t the slightest idea of what Christ’s dying on the Cross really means. I could tell it to you, but not while I’m living like I am.”

Time went on. We made invasion after invasion in the South Pacific. Between each invasion, we picked up supplies. Then we would go out again, sometimes in armadas of 300 ships, like soldiers marching to war in formation. During those months the Lord spared my life many times, all because hundreds of prayers were going up on my behalf.

Once we were standing on the deck when two allied fighter planes flew toward us very low. They were in formation and were so beautiful. We admired their gull wings. We had no fear, because they were Australians, or so we thought. Suddenly, I noticed their guns winking! I thought, “What are they firing at?” We were the only ship around. We had just come from Borneo after the enemy had bombarded our fleet from shore bunkers. Ships had gone down like ducks in a shooting gallery, but we had escaped.

It was our ship they were firing at. I could feel the concussion as the bullets struck the ship below us. The enemy had captured these Australian planes and was putting them to use against us. Then, just as they neared our ship they ceased firing. They pulled up in a banking formation to about thirty feet above me and the enemy pilot looked down at me and grinned. You figure that one out! I feel God spared my life.

At another time, a suicide bomber set his course for us. He was really traveling! As he reached our ship, the bomber tilted so that it flew on its side between the bridge and the forward mast, right into the sea on the other side of the ship. It was like a hand had swatted a fly. Why the bomber did this I could never tell, but I know that God had a hand in it or I would have died in my sins right there. I was not too far from the bridge.

Then, on a June day, we were going for more supplies. About five of us were in the transmitter shack, some working, others just standing around. The mail was delivered to us and I got a letter from my mother-in-law in Portland, Oregon. She wrote, “I prayed and I know you are going to be here for the camp meeting.” She had underlined the word “know.” I put the letter back into its envelope and slapped it on the desk, saying, “That mother-in-law of mine is really cracking up.” The boys standing around said, “What’s the matter?” I answered, “She thinks I am going to be back in Portland in the middle of July.” Did we laugh! We ridiculed her letter. To me it was crazy. I had only been at sea for eleven months; it was the other guys who should be going home.

The very next day, we were standing out on the fantail looking over the ocean when over the speaker system we heard, “These six men prepare to leave the ship.” I thought the last name called was mine, though I could hardly believe it. I went to the yeoman and inquired and he asked, “What’s your name?” I told him and he said, “Yes, I called it.” I wanted to know where I was going and he answered, “Home, I guess.” When I asked my time of departure he said, “After chow, tonight.”

While living on a ship, one picks up souvenirs from here and there. I had even bought an outrigger canoe from a man in the Philippines. I just packed a minimum sea bag, though, because I was going home! I left everything but the bare necessities.

That very evening, after chow, a little patrol boat came out of nowhere. I had never seen a patrol boat out there in the middle of the ocean. It pulled alongside our ship and the officer of the boat said to me, “There is your boat.” I tied my sea bag onto the line and dropped it over the side and went down the rope ladder. I was the only man who went down to this little boat. It was 6:00 o’clock in the evening.

About dark, I thought I would go up and talk to the boat coxswain. He had a shaded compass, but there was a light shining on the degrees so he could see where he was going. I inquired, “Do you know where you are going?” He replied, “No, but we are supposed to meet a big ship out here someplace, a seaplane tender.”

Soon the moon came up out of the horizon and crossed the sky. The stars came out too, but it was pitch dark in wartime blackout. The only illumination was that small light on the compass.

Along about one o’clock, the shadow of a seaplane tender loomed up against the stars. All we could see was that big shadow. We could hear the tender’s engines slowing down. Then we bumped along side. I had my hand out, feeling the side of the ship for the line and ladder. Finally I felt them, tied my sea bag on and stepped onto the swinging ladder. I waved as the patrol craft pulled out into the darkness and I climbed to the rail where two men helped me over the side. We were on our way home!

From time to time people have asked me, “Was there a reason for you to come home?” Really, there was no reason for me to have left the ship. It was only through the prayers of my mother-in-law that I reached Portland the second week of July!

At that very camp meeting the Lord saved me. When He did that, He did a great thing in my life. He spoke peace to my heart and broke every evil habit that had me bound. He set me free!