Unbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption

with dysentery. In one barracks room, men lost an average of fifty-four pounds over eighteen months. An officer estimated that twenty men fainted each day. Almost everyone had beriberi, and some men went blind from malnutrition. On the last day of November, they buried an American who had starved to death.
    There was one blessing at Zentsuji. Phil was permitted to send brief messages home on postcards. He wrote one after another. They were mailed, but got snarled in the postal system. The fall waned and another Christmas approached, and Phil’s family received none of them.
    A year and a half had passed since Phil had disappeared. His family remained in limbo, having heard nothing about him since his plane had gone down. In November, they had learned about Louie’s broadcast. The news had been tantalizing, but frustrating. Louie had mentioned other servicemen who were with him, but the names had been obscured by static, and the transcript hadn’t conveyed them with certainty. Had Louie mentioned Allen?
    On a Friday night in December 1944, the telephone rang in Kelsey Phillips’s home. On the line was a major from the adjutant general’s office at the War Department. Probably through the Red Cross, the department had received news from Zentsuji. Allen was alive.
    Kelsey was jubilant. She asked the major to cable her husband and her son’s fiancée, and in Washington, Cecy got the news she had awaited for so long. The fortune-teller had said that Allen would be found before Christmas. It was December 8. Overcome with elation, Cecy called her brother to shout the news, quit her job, dashed through her apartment throwing clothes and pictures of Allen into a suitcase, and hopped a plane back to Indiana to wait for her fiancé to come home.
    Four days before Christmas, a card from Allen, written in October, finally reached home. “Dear Folk: Hope you all are well and am looking forward to being home with you. I hope we can go rabbit hunting before the season closes Dad. Give my love to Cecy Martha and Dick. Happy birthday dad.” Kelsey pored over the precious slip of paper, comforted by the familiar lines of her son’s handwriting. Chaplain Phillips, now stationed in France, got the news on Christmas Eve. “Words really cannot describe the way I feel,” he wrote to his daughter. “I am in an altogether new world now. I can think of nothing more wonderful. It is a real touch of all that heaven means.”
    In a letter officially confirming that Allen was a POW, the Phillipses were asked not to speak publicly about the fact that Allen had been discovered alive. Kelsey would henceforth heed this request, but the letter had reached her too late; by the morning after the War Department’s call, the news was already all over town, and stories about Allen’s survival were in the local papers. The Zamperinis, who had received a similar letter stating that the War Department now believed that Louie’s broadcast had been real, were also asked not to speak of it publicly. The War Department probably didn’t want it known that they had erroneously declared two airmen dead, especially as the Japanese were exploiting this fact.
    Kelsey was allowed to send one cable to her son, and she filled the other days writing letters to him. On December 14, she wrote to Louise Zamperini. As relieved as Kelsey was for Allen, there was heaviness in her heart. Of all of the men on
Green Hornet
, only Louie and Allen had been found. Hugh Cuppernell’s mother was so demoralized that she could no longer bear to write to the other mothers. Sadie Glassman, mother of the belly gunner, Frank Glassman, had written to Louise, asking if she had heard anything about Frank. “Even though we have heard nothing,” she wrote, “the fact that you might know something makes us feel as though there might be a little hope.”
    “It is difficult to rejoice outwardly (though I do in my heart) when I think of the other mothers whom I have learned to love, and realize how keenly they feel the loss that is theirs,” Kelsey wrote to Louise. “How my heart goes out to them and I shall write them every one.”
    ——

    As Christmas neared, Louie faltered. Starvation was consuming him. The occasional gifts from the thieves helped, but not enough. What was most maddening was that ample food was so near. Twice that fall, Red Cross relief packages had been delivered for the POWs, but instead of distributing them, camp officials had hauled them into storage and