The Revd Matthew P. Cadwell, PhD 

Old North Church, Boston 

Battle of Britain 85th Anniversary 

14 Sept 2025 

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In the name of God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen. 

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To the uninitiated, it is sometimes bemusing, perplexing, perhaps bizarre, that the Old North  Church, shrine to the American Revolution, should be host to commemorations such as today’s,  regaled as we are by British and Canadian military, and culminating in singing of “God Save the  King.” But that is to consider only one moment in this church’s and nation’s long histories.  Today, the United States, the United Kingdom, and Canada, are the closest of allies, when we are  at our best. More than allies, we are the closest of friends. It is undoubtedly good to remember,  commemorate, and honor one’s friends.  

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Even more, this church stands tall as a symbol of both faith and freedom—perhaps the tallest and  best known symbol of faith and freedom in this country. Thus, is it most appropriate that we  should remember, commemorate, and honor those who, 85 years ago, risked their lives for those  very values and ideals in a time enfolding darkness, with the specter of fascism and evil  threatening to engulf not only Great Britain but North America as well, if allowed to do so. 

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That was the plan.  

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In 1940, having conquered much of Western Europe, Hitler hoped to destroy England’s defense  infrastructure by air, to then enable a land invasion, as in Poland, France, the Netherlands,  Belgium, Luxembourg, Denmark, and Norway. Overthrowing governments, sending kings into  exile, and more significantly, sending populations to concentration camps. That was the future, if it not for those brave airmen from the Royal Air Force, the Royal Canadian Air Force, and their allies. 

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The Battle of Britain was a months long campaign, from the 10th of July to the 31st of October, 1940. It was the first major defeat of the German offensive, proving that the Nazi war machine  was not invincible, nor the advance of evil inevitable. It could be stopped. It was stopped. By  planes of course. And gunfire. But much more by people. People unwilling to give up or give in.  By people who loved freedom, who loved their families, by people who loved God, and would  not allow the forces of evil and destruction to take another step on its march to domination.  

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The United States did not enter combat until December of 1941. I have shared before that my  great uncle, Kermit Krussow, born on a farm in Minnesota, joined the Royal Canadian Air Force  in June 1941, one of 9,000 Americans to do so before this nation joined. A year earlier, in the  Battle of Britain, there were just 10 who found ways to serve in their air. Americans who  believed more in freedom than in their own safety. Americans willing to break their nation’s laws  of neutrality in order to don a uniform, take to the skies, and defend a nation that was not theirs,  but a world that most certainly was.

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Because my Uncle Kermit and I are both Minnesotans, I would like to share the story of our  fellow Minnesotan, Arthur Donohue, one of the 10 who risked everything, including both his  citizenship and his life, to serve in the Royal Air Force. Art Donohue was born on a dairy farm in  St. Charles, Minnesota in 1913, a remote place, about 100 miles from Minneapolis. Art learned  to fly as a teenager, becoming Minnesota’s youngest commercially certified pilot at 19.  

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In June of 1940, when he was 27, Art learned that the RAF was recruiting pilots in Canada. He  traveled north (Minnesota borders Canada—though he would have been a great distance away). He lied and said he was Canadian—our accents can be similar—and he was accepted. Just ten  days later he sailed for the UK. Describing his motivation for joining he wrote:  

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“It’s hard to give a specific reason why I became a combat pilot. Of course I’d always wanted to  be one; and once I was in England the significance of the struggle seemed to carry me away.  This was mid-July. France had fallen, and the invasion of England seemed imminent. Its success  would open the whole world to a barbarian conquest. I had a growing admiration for the British  people and a sincere desire to help all I could. I couldn’t help feeling it would be fighting for my  own country, too. I felt drawn into the struggle like a moth to a candle...  

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“Knowing that one of England's greatest problems was inferiority in numbers in the air, I felt it  a duty as a follower of the civilized way of life to throw my lot in if they would take me. To fight  side by side against the enemies of civilization would be the greatest of all privileges. I knew I  should be scared to death many times and regret my decision often, for, as I said before, I am not  overendowed with courage; but I also knew that I'd never forgive myself if I rejected this  opportunity. So in a fateful moment on the day after my arrival, I held my pen poised while  making one last reflection on what I was doing, and then signed on the dotted line. I thereby  surrendered my independence for the duration of the war and became a proud member of the  Royal Air Force. I also presumed that I was surrendering my citizenship." 

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This description is taken from Donohue’s own autobiography, published in 1941 as Tally Ho!: Yankee in a Spitfire. An incredible gift to the future, to us today as we seek to remember,  understand, and learn lessons of long ago. Here, too, is his description of those he served  alongside: 

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“The boys and men of the RAF are good-natured, fun-loving, informal chaps, fighting because  their country is forced to, not because it’s their trade. Your brother who was working at a drug  store to earn money for college, until his country had to rise to call a halt to world gangsterism;  your neighbor’s boy who had just graduated high school, his head full of changing ideas; the  Smith boy who just married and settled on his father’s farm; and young Ray King, the spoiled  spendthrift, ne’er-do-well son of the local banker, who everyone had prophesied would come to  no good, chastised and sobered now by his consecration to his cause.… These lads, in whose  plans war had no part—nor in the plans of their parents. Ordinary people, who approved their  government’s course in giving beaten Germany a chance to rise again so that her people could  live happily and normally until an insane, hate-crazed spellbinder had wrested control of the  nation and turned it into a war machine and started it on a march of world conquest and  murder.”

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Incredible reflections, 85 years old, on the world and the people who would rise to save it. In three months, over 1500 RAF and allied personnel were killed, while over 2500 Germans were  killed. On the ground 23,000 civilians were killed and 32,000 wounded. The climax was 85 years  tomorrow, September 15, when the Luftwaffe planned a massive attack, repulsed by the RAF which shot down 60 German planes. Two days later Hitler postponed plans for invasion. Winston  Churchill said, “Never in the field of human conflict has so much been owed by so many to so  few.” 

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This is what we remember, honor, and commemorate today. Not war, but bravery. Not hate, but  love. Not evil, but faith, faith in the power of good, faith in the power of our neighbors and our  selves, faith in the power of God to lead us from evil and enfolding dark into the bright light of  day. We are here today because of the faith, courage, and conviction of those who in another age  

and another place believed that the world could be better. And, they believed they could make a  difference. 

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I should add a postscript about my fellow Minnesotan Art Donoue. He was injured twice in the  Battle of Britain, once having to eject himself from his plane with serious burns along his legs. He later flew over Asia in the defense of Singapore. He was killed on September 11, 1942 of all  days—83 years ago last week—while engaging a German warplane over the English channel. He  had to ditch with bad weather closing in. His body was never recovered. 

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We give thanks for him. We give thanks for all. We pray that they live forever—safe, protected,  loved in God’s heart, even as we remember and hold them in ours now. May they rest in peace,  may they rise in glory, and may we in our time follow their example, and live for freedom and for faith. 

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To God be the glory: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen. 

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© The Revd Matthew P. Cadwell, PhD