The Final Race

by Eric T. Eichinger

  His wife nodded. She understood his dilemma without his even having to speak it. “I think I know what you’re about to say next.”

  Eric frowned as he folded the paper and placed it next to the now-tepid cup of tea beside him. “Let’s see what the next few days bring, shall we? Before we make any decisions of our own.”

  * * *

  MERE DAYS AFTER the Liddells arrived in Toronto, in September 1939, war escalated from a possibility to a reality. After the SS Athenia sank, Germany invaded Poland. France and Britain declared war days later.

  World War II was in active theater.

  Eric and Florence planned to stay in Toronto for a month and then take the girls to Scotland. As much as they had looked forward to showing Patricia and Heather to Florence’s family in Canada, they were equally eager for Eric’s family to meet their daughters. But if Eric had learned nothing else in his time as a missionary, it was that best-laid plans are rarely realized. Since it was no longer considered safe for civilians to travel across the Atlantic, Eric and Florence were forced to make quick decisions. Eric had never been one to shirk his duties, but he had also—as best he could—kept his wife and daughters out of the line of fire. He certainly had not come halfway around the world to put them in danger.

  Eric wrote to LMS Foreign Secretary Cocker-Brown and explained that he did not want to risk traveling with his family through the ominous ocean waters and suggested he could take their furlough in Toronto for the year. This would ensure their safety while they rested up. Considering the situation, it seemed like a more than reasonable request.

  Cocker-Brown wrote back on behalf of the LMS stating they had strongly hoped and planned for Eric to be in Britain for the year. They needed him for deputation speaking engagements in order to raise support for the ongoing mission work. The war, they reminded him, greatly inhibited the potential availability of money people might be able to give in support.

  Eric was displeased but understood the London Missionary Society’s response. His obedience to and respect for authority kicked in. Certainly, he reasoned, if he had been brave enough to work in the midst of war in northern China, he could do the same in the present situation, crossing the perilous Atlantic to furlough in Britain. Surely any other man would not acquiesce so obligingly, given the circumstances. But Eric once again demonstrated loyalty to his God, his family, and his employers by sacrificially making a difficult decision. He put everyone else first and in the best position possible while placing himself—and his own personal interests—last.

  Eric ultimately decided to traverse to Britain alone, a decision that would keep his family protected in Toronto.

  After so much intermittent time on the mission field, Florence had looked forward to spending the year with Eric and their young children together. Spending much of the furlough separated had not been a part of her careful plans nor was it in her interests. But after tense negotiating between husband and wife—both missionaries to China—his reasoning won out. They rented a house in Toronto, where Florence and the girls could live for the remainder of their furlough.

  Again, Eric wrote to the LMS. He stated that he would come to England alone, but it would be at great personal financial cost. He hoped the LMS could help alleviate the burden of having to essentially double their cost of living during the yearlong furlough.

  Letters crisscrossed, the final two missing each other. As Eric sailed the Atlantic unscathed and without incident, a letter from Cocker-Brown arrived at the Toronto address ultimately allowing Eric to decide his own path forward.

  Britain had somewhat forgotten one of her favorite sons. Even still, one of its November newspapers boldly commented on Eric’s return, saying,

  Mr. Eric Liddell, has arrived after a second period of seven years missionary labours. A son of the late Rev. J. D. Liddell, Edinburgh, he became science master in the Anglo-Chinese College in Tientsin 14 years ago, and since 1937 he has been carrying on evangelistic work in that area under the direction of the Chinese mobile unit. He and his wife are both in excellent health. Mrs. Liddell, who is the daughter of the Rev. Hugh MacKenzie of the Church of Canada Mission, is meanwhile remaining in Canada.[65]

  The famed runner-turned-missionary’s return did not garnish quite the fanfare as his first furlough seven years prior, which was fine by Eric. But the LMS had hoped for a more favorable splash what with World War II suffocating all the remaining oxygen out of Britain’s discussions.

  Mary Liddell’s home had been lonely and quiet since James’s death, and she rejoiced to welcome Eric in for the year. Rob’s family had been back for a while by then, Jenny stayed busy with her family at their estate in Carcant, and Ernest now trained as a lieutenant of the Royal Artillery.

  The threatening nearness of war loomed over the British Isles. Eric, swept up in patriotism and seemingly on a whim, applied with the Royal Air Force, offering his services as a pilot. Not that he knew anything about flying, but the thought of doing all he could to defend Britain, his home, his culture, and his family was certainly enough for him. Moreover, he had served alongside his elder brother, Rob, in the mission field. The possibility of serving his country with his younger brother, Ernest, felt right.

  Eric becoming an aviator in his own Spitfire, warding off the German Luftwaffe, would have been enough to get any British journalist’s blood pumping, and the cartoonists would have had plenty of fodder for conjuring the most dominant image yet of the Flying Scotsman. But the vision of Eric Liddell—British icon and Olympic champion—joining aerial formation with the winged squadrons of the skies was not to be.

  Eric had been regarded as a national treasure. The thought of frivolously losing him on the front lines of battle possibly played a role in the RAF’s decision making. Eric had been considered many things, but expendable was not one of them. And so, in a letter of declination, the British Royal Air Force deemed Eric, at thirty-seven, too old to enlist, though they did offer him a safer desk job.

  With his immediate family in Canada and himself in England, Eric now understood better how his old flatmate, Gerald Luxon, had felt as a grass widower. He told the deputation committee to feel free to set up a rigorous travel and speaking schedule for him. While he was a bachelor for the year, he said, they may as well use him as best they could, for the betterment of the mission and to keep his own mind off Florence, Patricia, and Heather.

  During his time in England, an obvious visit Eric planned to make was to see D. P. Thomson, who at forty-three had tied the knot for the first time. As a wedding gift, Eric gave them a watercolor painting created by Li Hsin Sheng, a man in Siaochang whose life Eric had saved. After presenting D. P. and his wife, Mary, with the gift, he shared how he had come to purchase it.

  Months earlier, while transporting an ill Chinese man to the hospital in Siaochang via mule and cart, Eric heard of another man in nearby Pang Chuang who was barely clinging to life. Although by any standards it was a dangerous mission to try to rescue the second man, Eric felt compelled to try nonetheless.

  Eric found the man with a deep gash in his neck. He and five others had been taken out by the Japanese and then forced to kneel in the dirt. Using a saber, a Japanese officer beheaded each victim. But the sixth man—the man who had painted the wedding gift Eric now offered to D. P. and his bride—had somehow survived for several days, lying in a temple.

  Eric found the man, then managed to get him into the cart with his other wounded passenger. Painstakingly, he carried the two over a nearly twenty-mile journey of bumpy roads and fields to the hospital in Siaochang.

  The first man died. But when the second man recovered, he became a Christian and, soon thereafter, painted a peony rose with a Chinese caption that read, “The peony rose is the most beautiful in China. Her modesty and manner come from God.”

  Eric had the painting copied to lithographs, brought several with him to England, and gifted one to the Thomsons.

  The story of the painting’s origin hit its mark with D. P. Soon prea
chers and speakers told the story of the work from pulpits all over Scotland. Copies of the lithograph were recreated and sold, the money going to the LMS work in China.

  Eric made his deputation rounds throughout the region, speaking in churches, schools, town halls, and rotary clubs.

  A popular Congregationalist minister who had gone to a few of Eric’s speaking engagements captured the mood in a later written report, saying,

  There is one characteristic of Mr. Liddell, which impressed me very deeply on the two or three occasions of my meeting him. . . . I well remember the address he gave at “Swanwick-At-Home” in Manchester, which I chaired, during his last furlough. It was just a simple portrait gallery, in words, of some of his Chinese friends and contacts. The audience, at first, was obviously puzzled by its extreme simplicity, for it was the first time most of them had heard this famous Eric Liddell, and they had come expecting rhetorical fireworks. But as the address proceeded, the audience became profoundly attentive. Those Chinese were with the speaker in the room.

  This simplicity of his was, in truth, that rare gift of the childlike spirit which the Kingdom consists, and before the address ended, the audience was aware of it. As I remember it, Eric did not say a great deal about the more adventurous side of life in Siaochang, but rather spoke as though Japanese armies, Chinese armies (whether Government or Communist), and bandits, were the normal background of the day’s work.[66]

  Eric gave another talk in which he spoke effortlessly of invading soldiers, threats on the roadways, and the starvation of countless Chinese. His method of delivery and calmness of voice gave the impression that—despite the topic—all was well in Siaochang. Only later did another report reveal to those who’d heard Eric’s speech the truth behind the difficulties he and the other missionaries had endured.

  Eric’s God-centered spirit had been the calm of the mission work’s everyday storm, and he insisted that all people—whether Japanese or Chinese or British—be treated not as Japanese or Chinese or British, but as God’s children.

  Near the end of February 1940, with the United States naval presence aiding in perceived protection, people began to regard the Atlantic as safer than previously suspected. With this news, Florence—missing her husband more than she could bear—begged Eric to let her and the girls cross over to be with him. At the same time, the LMS informed Eric they wanted him to stay in England longer than previously expected. This meant he would not see his family for an extended period and that Florence would soon have to decide about her lodging.

  After much consideration and prayer, Florence and Eric determined it was high time the girls came to Scotland.

  In March, Florence and the girls crossed the Atlantic without episode in a ship nearly without passengers. When Patricia and Heather pressed her with questions about the oddness of it all, Florence simply stated, “God is in control; everything will be fine.”

  Because Eric was speaking in Ireland when they docked in Liverpool, Florence, Patricia, and Heather maneuvered their own way from the dock to the train station. A serious accident occurred during the train ride from England to Edinburgh. Even though dozens of passengers were injured, Eric’s family survived with only a few bruises.

  Ria Liddell and Charlie Somerville met Florence and their nieces at Waverley Station, then drove them to Mary Liddell’s home, where they waited a few more days for Eric to return. Once he did, the family of four held each other tightly and breathed each other in, making it difficult to know for sure who was most excited to see whom.

  Mary Liddell was more than willing to watch the girls, who enjoyed playing with Jenny’s daughters. It provided Eric and Flo much-needed time to steal away for dinner or a film or simply to talk without interruption. The streets of Edinburgh were darkened due to fear of air raid bombings. But for the two lovers desperate to reconnect, the necessities of war provided an oddly romantic backdrop.

  Sooner than either he or Florence liked, Eric had to return to his speaking schedule, but he managed to ease the pace a bit with his family near him. Flo spent her time away from her husband looking after the girls and following up on correspondence. Her letters revealed that not every relationship within the Camelot of the Liddells’ castle was without differences. In a letter she wrote to her sister Margaret, she penned,

  Mrs. Liddell is fine and we get along very well together. She has failed a lot since we saw her ten years ago but she is really very energetic. She thinks I underclothe the children but we haven’t come to blows yet!! . . .

  Eric goes away again this Sat. and then I’ll try and get some work done!! The children will hardly let Eric out of their sight. We’re all having the time of our lives and enjoying life immensely. . . .

  Cheery-bye for now. Try and find a minute to send me a scratch.

  Your ever loving sister, Flo.[67]

  [65] D. P. Thomson, Scotland’s Greatest Athlete: The Eric Liddell Story (Barnoak, Crieff, Perthshire, Scotland: Research Unit, 1970), 163.

  [66] Ibid., 168.

  [67] Ibid., 217.

  CHAPTER 18

  KEEP CALM AND CARRY ON

  God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.

  Psalm 46:1

  May 1940

  Eric strolled behind his daughters, who skipped along the stone fencing in the estate belonging to his sister and her husband, drinking in the hills and glens around him—the bleating of sheep, the morning songs and twittering of birds, and the giggles of his girls.

  They’d so needed this time, he and Florence. He and Florence, Tricia and Heather. When Jenny had suggested that his family come to Carcant—when she’d boasted of the thousand acres and the small family cottage perfect for respite—he’d not hesitated for a moment to say yes.

  Every day, the girls ran wild through the green countryside, laughing and playing with their extended family. If he only gave them this time and nothing more during their furlough in England, he hoped it would be enough—enough to last them a lifetime.

  A sudden stop in their playing drew his attention to a tiny creature a few yards away, bunny ears up, nose quivering. Tricia turned to him and whispered, “Daddy . . . a rabbit . . .”

  A rabbit indeed. And that meant rabbit stew.

  Like a flash Eric bolted, as did the rabbit, scurrying along the line of the fence. But Eric was faster, and within seconds he had the furry bunny clasped in his hands. “Daddy, you caught it!” he heard as one hand gripped its neck to snap it.

  He hadn’t thought. He hadn’t anticipated what little girls might think of such an act. They didn’t mind eating meat, but they’d never seen it before it was butchered.

  His head spun to meet their horrified gazes.

  “Daddy!” Tricia cried. “You killed it!”

  “Now, girls,” Eric said, struggling to find a way to ease their upset, “you should know that if you sprinkle a little salt on a rabbit’s tail, it slows them down, and you can catch them.”

  Patricia turned to Heather with a start. “Hurry!” she squealed, turning back toward the house. “Let’s go get some saltshakers!”

  * * *

  DURING THESE WARM and lazy days, as Eric and his family enjoyed the sheer beauty of life together, Rob Liddell worked on a personal conundrum of his own. Young James Ralph’s health issues continued. For Rob, the thought of leaving his children again, one of whom suffered physically, was a tough call. World War II and the precarious situation in the Far East did not settle him or Ria. With remorse and exhaustion, Rob reached out to the London Missionary Society, asking for a quiet release from his duties. The LMS understood the difficult circumstances and reluctantly granted his request.

  After returning to Edinburgh, Eric and Florence absorbed the unanticipated news. Eric lamented the impending result of his brother’s decision but could not argue with his reasoning.

  Eric continued his deputation speeches on behalf of the LMS as his deadline to return to China approached.

  At one such meeting, Eric clear
ly laid out the situation in China:

  Even before the war, there was a considerable amount of illicit trade between Manchuria and North China. I have watched heroin runners in operation, not even challenged on the railways because of a desire not to give offence. Now that the Chinese Customs are controlled by the invaders, the cities are being flooded with Japanese goods at prices which no other nation can compete with.

  When it comes to education, the Japanese have come to the conclusion that from education we will achieve the greatest sense of patriotism, which is something new in China. The Chinese give their loyalty to family rather than country. . . .

  The Japanese feel that they must control the schools, while the universities suffered much worse. I, myself, saw one bombed to bits in Tientsin two and a half years ago.

  We see a good deal of guerilla warfare along the railway lines. One day, a band of roving Chinese removed a few rails from the tracks—they believe they will win the war this way. The Japanese promptly replaced them and immediately sacked the adjacent village. Over such an extended territory there could be up to 100 fights like this every single day.

  In Siaochang we gave the combatants medical aid, but refused it to neither side. Those villagers still have their land and we, at the mission, help them to plant crops there.

  Please understand, our area near Siaochang has not been attacked so much as other areas. We have the constant guerilla warfare, yes. But through the grace of God, we have been able to carry on our work in China.[68]

  Despite the challenges of ministry in China, Eric loved his heritage, his father, and everything for which he stood. But pondering the astonishing reality that he was the last of Liddell missionaries in China came as a dramatic weight. Rob easily utilized his medical skills for the British war efforts, and young Ernest had now been stationed for artillery duty. Even with danger in the air, Eric wondered how he could possibly stay in what felt a much-safer place. The Liddell legacy along with his call from God beckoned him in every fiber of his being.