WWII veteran Nathan Kline personifies the meaning of patriot
Nathan Kline is a patriot. The former major, who lives in Upper Macungie Township, carries a pride and love of country so deep that he was willing to risk his life as a bombardiernavigator on a B-26 Marauder during World War II.
Twice he came uncomfortably close to paying the ultimate sacrifice.
Kline was on bombing missions to support U.S. forces as they struggled to fight back a surprise offensive launched Dec.16, 1944, as Adolph Hitler’s desperate last stand. The offensive, which lasted into January 1945, was known as the Battle of the Bulge.
The attack began as German forces attacked westward through the Ardennes Forest of Belgium and northern Luxembourg. German security had been so effective that it took several days for Allied commanders to realize the extent of the operation.
As it unfolded, some 200,000 German troops and nearly 1,500 tanks were pitted against 83,000 Allied personnel. The battle eventually involved 600,000 GIs. It was the biggest engagement ever fought by the U.S. Army — and one of the most deadly. About 20,000 Allied soldiers were killed. Another 23,000 were captured, and 5,000 were wounded.
The battle began to turn a week into the offensive as German units ran short of fuel and supplies. The U.S. defenders had dug in to repel the attack, and as German armor bogged down, and the skies cleared, U.S. planes launched devastating strikes and were able to parachute critical supplies to the defenders in Bastogne.
Key also was the arrival of Lt. General George Patton’s Third Army, on the day after Christmas, to make contact with the surrounded 101st Airborne Division, at Bastogne, which had occupied that Belgian town for several days, refusing German demands for surrender.
By Jan. 25, Allied forces had gained back all ground lost to the Germans during their campaign.
But near the start of the campaign, on Dec. 26, Kline was in a B-26 that was hit by anti-aircraft flak at 12,000 feet and an engine was on fire. The pilot had to put the aircraft into a steep dive to extinguish the fire.
Kline recalls that as he sat in the front of the craft, “I was staring straight down at the rapidly approaching ground. With only Plexiglas between you and disaster, one reconsiders how they have lived their life,” he recalls. “The hand of God was on us, and the conversations with our maker picked up dramatically.”
The aircraft was able to make an emergency landing at an Allied base and the crew survived what had seemed like certain death.
A week later, on Dec. 30, Kline was on another mission, and holes riddled his craft. With a hanging bomb that had not released as it should, the aircraft crash-landed in a snow-covered field, with snow and mud enveloping Kline’s vulnerable forward perch.
Of the second crash, Kline said he was so busy determining the plane’s position, and transmitting that information, that he could pay little attention to the fact that he was going down.
In a way, the situation was not as precarious as the first crash, where the plane was diving headlong toward the earth.
“While it was scary, we were gliding in for a wheels-up crash landing. We were more concerned about whether we would go down in friendly territory, and who would find us after we were down,” he recalls.
The mental and emotional exhaustion of being brought down twice in a week earned Kline 15 days in a “rest home” in Scotland.
The term post-traumatic stress disorder was not known then, and the syndrome was called “shell shock.” Years later, the full impact hit Kline and he was hospitalized for treatment.
After 42 years of active and ready-reserve time with the Air Force, Kline retired from military service in 1984. Now, at age 94, Kline operates from his memento-filled apartment at Country Meadows.
He maintains what he calls a “go-go” retirement, serving on boards of several Lehigh Valley
Of the second crash, Kline said he was so busy determining the plane’s position, and transmitting that information, that he could pay little attention to the fact that he was going down.
organizations, and visiting schools and community groups, telling of his experiences, and trying to instill “a spirit of service to our country” to his listeners.
His sentences are strewn with the words “duty, honor and country.” Kline, who also flew as part of the D-Day invasion, knows the essence of what is often regarded as “the Greatest Generation.”
He wears comfortably the cloak of patriot, and with great pride tells of the love of his country that he would have died for. Striving for that same greatness would be a noble ambition for all of us.
Jim Marsh, who lives in Salisbury Township, is a freelance writer.