Beautiful, Fitz, and terrifying and painfully real. Thank you for this -- "thank you for your service" doesn't come even close to appropriately acknowledging the truth. Thank you
This column left me in tears. I am nearly 77, so lived through those times. Bless you for keeping the memory of that time alive. We must never forget, and maybe someday, we'll actually learn from it.
I recently learned my mother had married a young Army Air Corps cadet in September 1943 whom she'd met while working at what was then Marana Army Air Field. He went on to become a P-38 pilot and was one of those shot down escorting bombers over the oil fields of Ploesti, Romania, aka "Hitler's Gas Station" on June 10, 1944. It was three weeks before his 22nd birthday, nine months after their wedding, making her a widow at age 20. She never told us about him until I found the sixty-year-old War Department letter informing her he was officially declared KIA after being MIA for six months. All she said was, "He was my first husband, and we were together for all of six weeks before he shipped out."
It's taken me a number of years but I finally found some information about him, his childhood growing up in PA, how they met, and where he served, even though most of the World War II service records have been lost in a fire at the National Archives in St. Louis. In the process, I learned more about my mother as one of the very few Latinas in the WAVES in 1944-46 than she ever told us. She was so much stronger and braver than any of her children ever gave her credit for, a young Mexican woman leaving her family to join the Navy.
So this Memorial Day, my Stars and Stripes wreath is out for 2nd Lt, George Johnson of the US Army Air Corps 1st Fighter Group, 71st Lightning Squadron, an only child from Philly who died fighting the Nazis - and for my mom, of the US Navy WAVES, Petty Officer Second Class, who went on to meet and marry my Navy Corpsman dad after the war and raise five oblivious kids.
Beautiful, Fitz, and terrifying and painfully real. Thank you for this -- "thank you for your service" doesn't come even close to appropriately acknowledging the truth. Thank you
This column left me in tears. I am nearly 77, so lived through those times. Bless you for keeping the memory of that time alive. We must never forget, and maybe someday, we'll actually learn from it.
An absolutely beautiful tribute - thank you!
And, I remember when this was Decoration Day.
I expect the best from you, Dave, and you never disappoint. You put puddles in my eyes with this one. I was mopping them up before they could run.
Thanks for the kind shout out. Ever onward, my friend. D
A lovely tribute. Thank you for writing it.
Have a memory rich Memorial Day
Beautiful, Fitz. Really beautiful.
I recently learned my mother had married a young Army Air Corps cadet in September 1943 whom she'd met while working at what was then Marana Army Air Field. He went on to become a P-38 pilot and was one of those shot down escorting bombers over the oil fields of Ploesti, Romania, aka "Hitler's Gas Station" on June 10, 1944. It was three weeks before his 22nd birthday, nine months after their wedding, making her a widow at age 20. She never told us about him until I found the sixty-year-old War Department letter informing her he was officially declared KIA after being MIA for six months. All she said was, "He was my first husband, and we were together for all of six weeks before he shipped out."
It's taken me a number of years but I finally found some information about him, his childhood growing up in PA, how they met, and where he served, even though most of the World War II service records have been lost in a fire at the National Archives in St. Louis. In the process, I learned more about my mother as one of the very few Latinas in the WAVES in 1944-46 than she ever told us. She was so much stronger and braver than any of her children ever gave her credit for, a young Mexican woman leaving her family to join the Navy.
So this Memorial Day, my Stars and Stripes wreath is out for 2nd Lt, George Johnson of the US Army Air Corps 1st Fighter Group, 71st Lightning Squadron, an only child from Philly who died fighting the Nazis - and for my mom, of the US Navy WAVES, Petty Officer Second Class, who went on to meet and marry my Navy Corpsman dad after the war and raise five oblivious kids.
Glorious, just glorious
Retired vet here with leaking eyes. Thank you for this. ❤️
❤️💔❤️
My eyes were watering as I read your story, sounded just like my time in Vietnam.