“Don’t you worry about me, Mom, I’ll be back,” Eddie smiled
at his mother and straightened – actually, tilted – his lieutenant’s cap while
his mother and little sister looked on. His
mother frowned, knowing that her firstborn son was headed back out to war, even
if he did call it “a cushy job.” It was
all the same to her – war.
Giving his mother a kiss and his sister a playful squeeze,
Eddie strode out the door, letting the screen slam behind him. His mother winced at the ominous sound, and she
bit her trembling lip.
Yes, his navigator’s job on the PBY was a cushy job, compared to flying the Burma-India hump. He had many missions over the hump, and had
just finished a brief time of leave to visit his family before he headed out to
the Pacific. This time, he was navigating
a plane to rescue downed pilots.
He arrived in Iwo Jima in July and quickly set up camp. Soon, he wrote a letter home, “The sand here
is black, but fine. Our tents are on the
top of one of the mountains overlooking the airstrip.” Again, he reassured his mother, “don’t worry
about me; I’ll be fine.”
When Eddie and his crew reported for duty the 13th
of August, they received word that a pilot had gone down in the Sea of
Japan. Within minutes, their unarmed PBY
and their two escort P-51s were in the air, headed for the coordinates they had
been given.
What happened next has been the subject of conjecture for the
past fifty years. It is a known fact
that the PBY found no pilot or wreckage in the area they were told to go to;
the escort planes must have gone ahead in search of him, thinking perhaps they
had been given incorrect information.
Regardless of what happened, by the time they got back to the PBY, it was
down, sinking quickly, and surrounded by burning fuel.
Eddie was never coming home.
Word reached his sister and parents not long after the war
was over. Usually a very reserved and
quiet man, Eddie’s father immediately went down to the basement in hopes that
no one would hear his loud sobs. His
mother went right to her room, while his sister stood frozen in the
kitchen. The wails, sobs, and cries coming
from the basement pierced her soul. She
would never be the same again, and neither would her parents.
This story was told to me personally by the young girl, who
is my mother. Eddie is the uncle I never
knew. Her brother, Eddie, was shot down
only two days before the war was over, and it affected her – all of us - the
rest of our lives.
Eddie never got to finish his engineering degree at Purdue
University. He never got to rub noses
with his own baby. Once he went
overseas, he never again got to enjoy American soil. He gave all so we could be free.
To those who have given so much for our country, I know that
“Thank you” could never really be enough, but it is still spoken with a
heartfelt gratitude and reverence for your sacrifice.
To all veterans and their families….thank you.
1 comment:
This is so true, and so powerfully moving. Thank you for posting!
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