51 pages 1-hour read

A Higher Call: An Incredible True Story of Combat and Chivalry in the War-Torn Skies of World War II

Nonfiction | Book | Adult | Published in 2012

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Chapter 21-AfterwordChapter Summaries & Analyses

Chapter 21 Summary: “We Are the Air Force”

At Munich-Riem airfield on 5 April 1945, Jagdverband 44’s 20 pilots wait in an improvised alert shack while radar and spotters track a thousand American bombers and six hundred escorts. Only seven Me 262s are flyable, so Operations Officer Johannes Steinhoff selects five—including Stigler, Walter “Count” Krupinski, and two younger flyers—for the first interception; Adolf Galland intends to launch any remaining jets afterward. Before take-off Galland warns that Allied fighters now strafe German pilots in their parachutes and on the ground, citing the previous day’s attack on ace Rudi Sinner.


The flight roars aloft, skimming Bavaria and climbing to 32,000 feet. They sight a small formation of B-17s but immediately confront more than a 100 diving P-51 Mustangs. The jets scatter; Lieutenant Fährmann is shot down. Diving to escape, Stigler exceeds the 262’s red-line speed, the controls lock, and he only recovers by kicking the rudder yards above the ground.


Four days later, P-51s and a 200-plane B-17 force locate Riem, strafing and bombing the field, destroying aircraft and killing six personnel. Digging foxholes beside their parked jets, the exhausted “outcasts and condemned” of JV-44 vow to continue despite mounting losses.

Chapter 22 Summary: “The Squadron of Experts”

In mid-April 1945, Munich-Riem’s battered jet unit, Jagdverband 44, suddenly swells with renowned aces. Franz Stigler greets 301-victory Major Gerd Barkhorn, soon followed by “Man of Ice” Colonel Günther Lützow; together with Adolf Galland, Johannes Steinhoff and others, the roster now reads like a roll-call of Luftwaffe legends, earning JV-44 the nickname “Squadron of Experts.” While Galland tries to keep morale aristocratically high—formal dinners, waiters, no personal nose-art—the men grasp the Me 262’s unforgiving quirks and the war’s hopeless trajectory.


Nightly Mosquito raids, P-51 strafing, and B-17 fire-bombing weaken the unit. Franz mentors Barkhorn on the jet’s fragile engines, witnesses Steinhoff’s take-off crash: a blown tire flips the 262 into flames; Steinhoff survives but is hideously burned, leaving leadership to Galland, technical duties to Franz and operations to Eric Hohagen.


Days later, the unit flies without Steinhoff; Lützow is last seen veering south after a skirmish, presumed killed. Amid ruined runways, growing casualty lists and rumors of concentration-camp atrocities related by visiting Colonel Trautloft, the exhausted “outcasts and condemned” cling to duty, even as Germany collapses around them.

Chapter 23 Summary: “The Last of the German Fighter Pilots”

By late April 1945, JV-44 is disintegrating while Germany collapses. Galland now lets pilots volunteer; Franz Stigler keeps flying, though Goebbels’ bunker broadcasts and daily P-47 attacks underline the futility. Major Barkhorn is forced down but survives; days later Galland returns in Stigler’s Me 262 with a wounded knee after a strafing run, minutes before Thunderbolts rake the field.


Radio bulletins announce Goering’s “heart condition”—really his arrest—while Munich-Riem reels under raids. When young Lt. Pirchan begs for a sortie, Stigler reluctantly loans him White 3 for a token circuit; the novice panics on take-off and dies, convincing Stigler the war is lost. Galland, on crutches, secretly plans to ferry the unit’s surviving jets to U.S. lines and surrender them; he asks Stigler to escort the move to Salzburg, then grants him release.


On 28 April, Stigler delivers his jet, steals a tracked motorcycle and disappears into the Alps. Six days later—after Hitler’s suicide and Germany’s southern capitulation—the pilot surrenders to American troops near Berchtesgaden, having slipped past an SS ambush. Interrogators seize his log-book; the “last fighter pilot” chapter of his war is over.

Chapter 24 Summary: “Where Bombs Had Fallen”

In March 1946, ex-fighter-pilot Franz Stigler is eking out a living in bomb-scarred Straubing. After punching a brick-yard foreman who rejects him for having flown with the Luftwaffe, local policemen drag him into a side alley—but instead of beating him they share American cigarettes, reveal their own wartime service, and end by saluting the surprised veteran before walking away. Unable to find steady work, Franz finally joins Messerschmitt’s post-war sewing-machine line (1947) and marries Eva (1948). A 1953 reunion with former commander Günther Roedel tempts him to await a reborn German Air Force, yet Franz opts for freedom and emigrates to Canada to join the top-secret Avro Arrow project. Security rules bar the German newcomer, so he becomes a diesel mechanic at a remote Queen Charlotte logging camp; the isolation ends his marriage but steady pay keeps him.


Correspondence with Hiya Greisse—the Potsdam girl he once comforted—blossoms; she emigrates in 1956 and the pair wed in Vancouver. Life in the mountains revives war memories: Hiya’s trauma at the Northern Lights and Franz’s drunken attempt to “greet” a mother bear recall past losses yet underscore their shared resilience. Visits from Franz’s devout mother and sporadic news of comrades close the chapter on combat, replacing “orders” with ordinary hard work and tentative peace.

Chapter 25 Summary: “Was It Worth It?”

In 1980 Franz Stigler and his wife, Hiya, enjoy a quiet retirement near Vancouver—flying his restored Messerschmitt-108, fishing, and hosting old comrade Adolf Galland. Five years later Boeing invites Franz to the B-17’s 50th-anniversary gathering. There he remembers the crippled Fortress he spared in 1943 and wonders if it ever reached England. Meanwhile in Florida, retired U.S.


Air Force colonel Charlie Brown—pilot of that very bomber—relives the event in nightmares and begins searching for the unknown German who let him go. Through the magazine Jaegerblatt and Galland’s help, Charlie’s “looking-for” note finally reaches Franz in January 1990. A phone call confirms their shared memories and the extraordinary mercy that linked them.


That June, the former enemies meet in Seattle, weeping as they embrace and recount the battle from opposite cockpits; Medal-of-Honor pilot Joe Jackson records the reunion. In September, Franz attends a 379th Bomb Group reunion where Charlie introduces him to surviving crewmates and families whose lives exist because he withheld fire. Franz signs a book, calling Charlie “as precious as my brother,” answering at last his lingering question—yes, it was worth it.

Afterword Summary

The afterword traces what becomes of the principal figures after 1945. When West Germany joined NATO in 1955, many former Luftwaffe officers—Trautloft, Barkhorn, Krupinski, Roedel, Hohagen, Hartmann and Steinhoff—are reinstated at their wartime ranks, several retiring as generals in the new Bundeswehr. In the United States, B-17 pilot Charlie Brown finally tells his crew in 1957 that he was only 20 when he flew Ye Olde Pub. Neither he nor Stigler re-encounter Marjorie, the English girl who inspired the bomber’s nose art.


Through the 1990s, the two men tour North America recounting their shared story to museums, military units and civic groups, promoting reconciliation. Stigler dies in March 2008; Brown follows eight months later. Shortly before Brown’s death, the U.S. Air Force reopens the 1943 incident and awards Brown the Air Force Cross while issuing Silver Stars to each crew member. Although Stigler never receives the Knight’s Cross he once sought, he tells friends he has gained something better: peace and a brotherhood that crosses former battle lines.

Chapter 21-Afterword Analysis

Makos ends the book by accelerating through Germany’s terminal months and then expanding outward into half a century of aftermath, using structure itself to turn an isolated wartime episode into a public lesson. Combat scenes arrive as compressed flashpoints—an Me 262 scramble, a P-51 strafing run—and then vanish, replaced by time-lapse snapshots: a Bavarian alley in 1946, a Canadian logging camp in the 1950s, a Seattle reunion in 1990. The telescoping timeline shows how a decision that occupied mere seconds in the sky over Bremen continues to generate consequences long after the front lines dissolve, teaching readers to track moral causality rather than military chronology.


To register that long arc, Makos shifts from immersive battle reporting to an almost curatorial role, foregrounding veteran testimony, reunion videos, and Air Force award memos. His narrative voice shifts, as action verbs give way to measured clauses that resemble oral-history transcripts. In the postwar sections, Makos is less storyteller than a facilitator, editing together letters, lecture-circuit slogans, and sparse scenic detail so that Brown and Stigler themselves define what the moment ultimately means.


Tone and motif reinforce that editorial restraint. Wartime images of eyes locked across gunsights question the hierarchies of war without the use of exposition. The rosary beads that once halted Stigler’s trigger finger surface in retirement, now a harmless object that recalls a choice Stigler never regretted. These recurring objects compress decades of experience into quick visual statements, allowing the prose to remain vivid and economical. Even Steinhoff’s line—”Franz suddenly believed what Steinhoff meant when he said, ‘We are the Air Force’” (295)—recasts institutional identity as a handful of veterans stubbornly clinging to professional standards after the nation that created them has collapsed.


Character closure rests on mirrored transformations. Stigler passes from ace to mentor, immigrant mechanic, and finally reconciled friend; each stage strips away institutional trappings until only personal conscience remains. Brown, conversely, expands outward: survivor, then seeker plagued by nightmares, and finally public speaker who translates private trauma into civic instruction. Their reunion inscription—”The pilot, Charlie Brown, is for me, as precious as my brother was” (361)—collapses enemy and family into the same category and completes the thematic circuit begun with Franz’s childhood lessons on unseen honor. The book’s epilogue crystallizes the message in a single line delivered on their lecture tour: “Their message was simple: enemies are better off as friends” (363). Without explicit argument, Makos lets the former combatants demonstrate that the moral weight of combat can be recast, not erased, by ongoing acts of witness and education.


Through this blend of telescoped structure, documentary tone, and motif recurrence, the narrative achieves its final effect: a narrow aerial incident is repurposed as a civilian ethic of empathy. By elevating firsthand memory over national myth, Makos closes the story on the enduring force of The Power of Reconciliation and Shared Humanity, suggesting that the most consequential victories of war are sometimes waged in the decades that follow it.

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