Monthly Archives: June 2015

Christopher Lee: Heroic Prince of Darkness

christopher_lee1By Rick Hutchins

On the silver screen, he was best known for portraying an evil that brought terror to the hearts of the innocent and the brave. For his artistry, he was knighted by Prince Charles of England.

In reality, in the darkest decade in living memory, he fought the greatest evil mankind has ever known.

Perhaps he was knighted for the wrong reason.

Sir Christopher Lee was born in 1922, his father a colonel of the King’s Royal Rifle Corps, whose service dated back to the Boer War, and his mother a descendent of Charlemagne, whose beauty was preserved in art and sculpture. His first acting role was at the age of six in a school play. He was never very good at academics or sports, but he excelled in the arts. All of this is common knowledge.

But some people have unknown depths. Some lives rival the adventures of Pulp fiction.

At the onset of the second World War, Lee volunteered for the Finnish forces, but did not see combat. Two years later, he volunteered for the Royal Air Force, but a medical condition prevented him from flying. Determined to serve, he then volunteered for RAF Intelligence and it was there that he truly flourished. After coming to the attention of his superior officers for his skill at decodinglee-dracula German ciphers (he was fluent in several languages), he was transferred to North Africa, where he served with the Long Range Desert Group. Here, he penetrated behind enemy lines, infiltrating Axis bases from Egypt to Benghazi to sabotage enemy aircraft and installations.

In addition to several near-death experiences while serving near the front lines, Lee was felled by malaria six times during the North African campaign, and returned to duty each time.

Following the Axis surrender in North Africa and the Allied invasion of Italy, Lee began Intelligence work for the Army. During this time, he served with the Gurkhas, suffering yet another brush with death, and took part in planning a potential assault on the Nazi’s Alpine Fortress. Lee was then returned to the Air Force, where he was promoted and posted to Air Force Headquarters to work with the Special Operations Executive, conducting espionage, sabotage, and reconnaissance missions in Occupied Europe.

When the war ended, Lee worked with the Central Registry of War Criminals, tracking down Nazi fugitives and turning them over to the authorities for interrogation and indictment. He duties brought him several times to Nazi concentration camps, where he witnessed the aftermath of the Holocaust firsthand.

Flight Lieutenant Christopher Lee retired from active duty in 1946. This is the bare bones of what we know of his activities in the second World War. His full service record remains classified to this day.

Lee was decorated for his heroism in wartime by Czechoslovakia, Yugoslavia, Poland, and Great Britain. He was appointed a Commander of the Venerable Order of St. John. He was knighted for his services to charity. These, of course, are in addition to the many well-deserved honors he received for his inimitable work in film.

On screen, he portrayed the darkest of villains; on the stage of life, he was truly the noblest of heroes.

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Rick Hutchins was born in Boston, MA, and has been an avid admirer of heroism since the groovy 60s. In his quest to live up to the heroic ideal of helping people, he has worked in the health care field for the past twenty-five years, in various capacities. He is also the author of Large In Time, a collection of poetry, The RH Factor, a collection of short stories, and is the creator of Trunkards. Links to galleries of his art, photography and animation can be found on http://www.RJDiogenes.com.

This is Hutchins’ eleventh guest blog post here.  His first two, on astronaut and scientist Mae Jemison and the Fantastic Four’s Reed Richards, can be found in our book Heroic Leadership.

Leverage Your Fortune: Respecting Someone Costs Nothing

3611908731_95e2dd639a_zBy Steve Hutchins

Once upon a time, I was a young man. And I had some vanity. Don’t we all . . . .

I had every hair color and style under the rainbow. I knew I was a faggot, even then, and I was trying to craft myself into an image that I was attracted to. So stupid. But I was a kid.

One day, I followed my favorite hair stylist into Quincy, Massachusetts. That was cool for me; my comic book shop was in Quincy. I could get my hair done, get my monthly “stash”. It all worked. I boarded the bus and made my way. Those were the days. I was wearing my favorite long coat. It was like a trench coat, but made of wool. I wore that coat for years. Wore it out, in fact.

I ended up beside a man who was, I guess, what would be called “troubled”. I’m sure you’ve met people like this before: it’s clear something isn’t quite right, but it’s difficult to define exactly what. He started talking to me. Just talking. My Mum would kill me, but me, I’ve always had a good handle on whether I’m in danger or not. At sixteen, yes, she would have killed me.

He said to me: “You must be a businessman.”

I said, “What? Me? No!”

“Well, I saw that coat and I thought you must be a businessman.”

I replied, “Not me. It’s a nice coat, but I’m just a kid.”

american-horror-story-season-3-kathy-bates-ryan-murphy-jessica-langeAs impressed as he may have been with my coat, that wasn’t really his agenda. He wanted to talk. And he just kept talking. And I kept listening.

He was fixated on his childhood. He mentioned he was spending time in an institution in Quincy. Yes, a psychological institution. He spoke much about marijuana. Even then, it didn’t mean a thing. Ryan Murphy provided my latest cliché’ in American Horror Story: Asylum: “I don’t judge, Jude. I never judge.”

At one point in this man’s conversation, I happened to look across the bus at the other passengers. They were looking at me the same way they were looking at him. Time delivers some perspective. I was a child. These adults judged me, words unspoken, upon my casual association. It was, as if, well, you must be crazy, too, to be talking to him. I never forgot that feeling nor how unfair that was.

Was I that guy’s hero? And will I ever know? It was a time and a place in space and a circumstance and a mood and. . . well, clearly no one else on that bus was willing to talk to that man. Why not? It costs you. . . what? Respecting someone costs nothing.

I’m not sure why I’m telling this story. It was one of few defining moments in my life, but I haven’t told it in a very long time. I suppose my point is that I had been picked on, as every kid has, but that was kid stuff and I’ve always handled bullies well.

But, when those passengers on that bus looked at me, I realized that poor man was looked down upon like that every day of his life. It wasn’t a moment for him. It wasn’t a cute little story he could tell years later. He was harmless. All he wanted was an ear to bend, that’s all.

I suppose my point isn’t that my ears easily bend, but, rather, why is what I did such a difficult thing for most people? Who is the hero here? That stupid kid, sparing scant minutes of his life to listen, or that troubled guy fighting every day to live a better life? I never forgot that moment. It’s been thirty years now.

We have to try to help others where we can. Life wouldn’t make much sense otherwise.

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Steve Hutchins supports heroism in all its forms and resides in Whitman, Massachusetts.