Keep Your Parachute Handy

I am SOOO over Covid – just like everyone else.  I also have more than a few moments where I begin to lose faith that the ‘normal’ that I was accustomed to, may never return.  At my ugliest times, I reach for a Diet Coke and then I remember stories like the one that I’m about to share.  Thinking of my Uncle Dick, trying to comprehend the faith that he must have had – mixed with a lot of desperation and fear! – in order to get through some of the life experiences he incurred.  Makes me wonder if faith, a positive outlook, or a hopeful attitude causes your mind/brain to ‘see’ what is necessary to get through the ugliness? 

Uncle Dick was a right-wing gunner in WWII.  He served on a plane called The Passionate Witch II.  On March 28, 1944, The Passionate Witch was under heavy enemy-fire and at high noon, was ultimately shot down.  Clink the link below to read the story.

This story comes from Cousin Margie Lou as conveyed to her from Uncle Dick.  The story takes place on March 28, 1944.  Dick was the right gunner of The Passionate Witch unit.  During the exercises and the earlier war situations, Dick stated that he could always see the flak (aircraft fire/ammunition) coming toward the plane.  This was an advantage for the right-wing gunner position.  As a result of that advantage, Dick said that he saw the flak that ultimately took down his plane, and knew that it was going to hit his plane.  The flak essentially tore one wing off the Passionate Witch and the plane began to spiral uncontrollably to the ground.  On the impact of the flak, Dick was thrown against or near the escape door.  This door, when one pulled the red handle released the door, allowing for escape/departure from the plane.  Dick tried to reach for the red handle but couldn’t move a muscle.  Centrifugal force of the downward-spiralling plane caused him to be in a frozen-like state.  At this point, Dick knew that he was going down with the plane and was going to die.  Immediately he prayed, “please let Pop accept this”, knowing that if Grandpa accepted Dick’s death, all other community and family and friends would accept it too.  After completing the prayer, Dick opened his eyes and, to his surprise, ‘saw’ Grandma’s face and ‘heard’ her voice, saying “Dick, pull the red handle!”  By now the centrifugal force had diminished its power and Dick could move.  He tried to reach the handle but couldn’t.  Grandma continued to plead with him, “Try harder Dick, try harder Son!”.  Pull the red handle.  Dick described Grandma’s presence as “Mom was as clear to me in that plane as you are to me now Margie.  Mom was in that plane with me!”  Dick continued to try to get to the red handle of the door.  Eventually he finally reached it and pulled the handle.  The door didn’t release!  Likely through all the damage done when the plane was hit, the frame of the plane had been altered, keeping the door from falling out.  Once Dick knew that the door wasn’t going to open easily, he proceeded to beat/hit the door with his head and his body and anything else to force the door open.  After Dick’s frantic efforts, finally the door fell out and Dick fell with it, taking his parachute with him – but there’s a story to that too.  Standard parachute issue for the military at this time was a front-wearing parachute.  Dick had asked his commanding officer for a back-wearing parachute and been told that he wasn’t getting one as it wasn’t ‘standard issue’.  Dick hated the front-wearing chutes because it did not allow for Dick to be in the proper position to perform his job of gunner on the plane.  Dick’s mode of operation was to remove his parachute and stand on it, instead of wearing it.  In Dick’s mind, standing on it might protect him from gunfire or flak that came up through the belly of the plane.  On this day in March, 1944, Dick was standing on his front-wearing parachute, however he had won a back-wearing parachute in a poker game about a week earlier from a fellow who had lost all his money and tried to stop playing but Dick had insisted that the fellow stay in the game and put up his back-wearing parachute as his money.  Dick won the chute.  This fact is ironic as Grandma was adamant that gambling was evil and refused to allow standard playing cards in her house.  It is obvious to me that breaking Grandma’s rules likely saved Uncle Dick’s life.

So back to Uncle Dick falling out of the plane, he opened the chute hoping that there was indeed a chute there to open.  Dick had merely trusted the fellow that lost it in the poker game – he hadn’t bothered to check it!  So he pulled the chord and indeed there was a functioning chute.  As Dick descended slowly to the ground, he was constantly being compromised by falling bombs from other aircraft in the vicinity at the time.  In fact, he said that he could have reached out with his leg and touched several bombs as they plummeted to the ground and exploded.  And the resulting ground explosion air forces were also pushing him back up into the air.  Dick thought there was a good chance that one of the bombs would eventually hit his open parachute and take him to his death.  Eventually one of the forces of one of the falling bombs did take out half of his chute, causing his descent to abruptly accelerate, taking him forcefully to the ground where he landed on his butt.  It is thought that he damaged his tailbone in that fall and suffered consequences of that his whole life. 

As Dick prepared to gather his parachute from the ground (which is what they were taught to do if they got shot down, and then to bury it afterward), he realized that he had landed about 50 yards from the exterior fence of the German compound that had been his unit’s mission to destroy.  He looked to the top of the fence and could see the points of dozens of German soldier helmets, all with machine guns and other guns pointing down at him.  Dick knew there was no point in running or escaping so he surrendered to the German soldiers.  Dick noted that the soldiers appeared to be ‘babies’, so young.  The soldiers were very excited to have caught Dick, exclaiming, “Fleiger-gangster”, meaning American Flyers. (Side note – the POW camps were called Kriegs.  Dick learned to play “Kriegie” bridge in the camp and played bridge the rest of his life – also likely to have been frowned upon by Grandma!).   With the butts of their guns, they pushed Dick inside the fence of the compound where he quickly saw one of his unit soldiers, John McLaughlin.  McLaughlin was lying on the ground, blood coming from his ears and mouth.  Dick communicated to the Germans that he wanted to go over to his friend.  They allowed that.  Dick went over, asked him if he was in pain.  McLaughlin said that he was not.  He asked Dick to light a cigarette for him.  Dick checked with the German soldiers to see if he could do that.  They agreed.  Dick gave the lit cigarette to McLaughlin and quickly thereafter, Dick was forcefully taken away and thrown into an underground dungeon/hole.  The only exposure to the outside world was through the locked hatch at the ground level where Dick could see if it was day or night.  Dick said that he slept a lot while he was there alone.  After a day or two, another POW was thrown down in the dungeon with him, John Oliver, which Dick called Ollie.  There was absolutely no light in the hole, except for the natural light from the hatch lid. Ollie and Dick could hardly see each other – but they talked a lot.  They were eventually pulled out of the hole and interrogated separately and then moved them to a train station where many American POWs were gathered and put into cattle cars, the type in which the Jews were transported.  The men had no idea where they were going but would look out of the wooden slats and soon realized they were heading east – into Germany.  They ended up near Frankfurt and stayed there for a few days.  Then they were put onto another train where they could at least sit down and they were moved to Krems, Austria, Stalag 17B.  From this point on, Ollie and Dick were together throughout the remainder of the war. 

There were 10 U.S. soldiers in The Passionate Witch II that fateful March 28, 1944 day.  The pilot, Robert Cook and the navigator, Al Silva, both officers, survived and were in prison in other locations.  Dick always said that Robert Cook was the best pilot ever and he credited Robert for his survival.  Dick was the only other survivor. 

Imagine the faith, the strength, and the courage that was required to have survived this ordeal.   Getting back to ‘normal’ was the least of their concerns.  Let’s all try to keep the faith and keep your ‘parachutes’ handy, whether your parachute is a call to a friend, going for a walk, getting vaccinated or having a healthy dinner with your family.  Protect yourself and keep the faith. 

Not Just A Clock

As I look around the rooms of my house, I can clearly visualize images in my mind of historical events that occurred in my life.  I can see Brother Dave instigating annoyance between Brother Rob and Chris, calling one or both of them “dumb” or any one of us making fun of Brother O.J. and his ‘Fungi Back’, my Dad yelling about the school principal for whom he worked, that was a ‘stupid son-of-a-bitch that should never have been in the classroom’, or my Mom threatening to sit on Brother Chris’ lap to force hominy down his throat.  To some readers, these incidents may seem volatile but that is definitely not the case.  This was the typical sibling harassment that occurred in our redneck community and a demonstration of the frustration and the passion that my parents had for their jobs as teacher or parent.  Each and every one of those images brings me to outward laughter and warms my heart. 

The ability to recall these memories is brought about because of the furniture, wall hangings, knick-knacks, books, etc. that are a heart-warming part of my life.  For instance, my kitchen table was the table where I ate thousands, yes, thousands of meals with my annoying brothers, the sister that I wanted to be exactly like, and my parents, whom I loved deeply, feared slightly and learned from constantly – some good things, some not-so-good things.  Regardless, these household items mean a great deal to me but maybe of no value to most. 

Recently I had a conversation with my Aunt Betty Thayer (wife to my Dad’s youngest brother, Lynn) where she explained that these types of items carry memories to others in my family too.  Her story revolved around a clock.  As she described this clock, I remembered it and could see it hanging in Grandma and Grandpa’s house.  This particular clock was a mainstay in my grandparents house.  It was the type of clock that had a key that was needed to wind the clock in order for the clock to keep time and it hung directly above the telephone stand, complete with a swinging pendulum.  As a result, sometimes you could hear the tick, tick, tick of the clock and sometimes not!  

Aunt Betty explained to me that the clock came from the one-room Clifford School where Grandpa and Grandma were both teachers back in the early 1900’s.  This clock was cherished by Grandma and Grandpa as it was given to Grandpa to show gratitude for his contribution to the school and the community that the school served.  

Aunt Betty told me that in the early years of hers and Lynn’s (we called him Lyndie) marriage, they lived in Boston where Uncle Lyndie was attending school to become a pastor.  Grandma and Grandpa visited Boston once a year to see Aunt Betty and Uncle Lyndie and their growing family.  Betty said that every afternoon, Grandma would take a nap or have a rest while Grandpa walked the neighbourhood, talked with the neighbours, meeting people and learned about Boston and the community where they lived.  Grandpa loved talking to people and loved history.

In addition to their annual visits, Grandma was an avid letter-writer.  She wrote to all of her children, including Uncle Lyndie and Aunt Betty.  Receiving a letter from Grandma was very exciting for Uncle Lyndie’s family.  It was a time where the kids would gather around Aunt Betty so that she could read the letter to them, as the kids were too young to read – especially Grandma’s handwriting.  In one of Grandma’s letters, she was relating what was going on at the farm and the letter went something like, “6 a.m., breakfast is ready, waiting for Dad to come back in from the barn”.  Based on the continued reading of the letter, breakfast was finished and the letter continued  - “breakfast is over, dishes are done and pies are in the oven!”.  Grandma baked pies every day – except Sunday.  The letter continued:  “It’s 9:15 – at least I think it’s 9:15 but I can’t quite tell.”  The reason that she couldn’t tell was because one of the hands on the clock above the telephone had fallen off.  Grandma went on to explain that she wasn’t really sure whether it was the hour hand or the minute hand that had fallen off, but “it really doesn’t matter which hand it was as long as the clock keeps running”.  Betty and the children laughed and laughed through this portion of Grandma’s letter.  They could picture Grandma writing the letter, looking at the clock and trying to figure out the time.  But in reality, to Grandma the time wasn’t important.  Writing the letter, communicating with the family and looking after her family’s food preparation was important.  Also important was the fact that as long as the clock ‘ran’, no money needed to be spent on a repair! 

After Grandpa and Grandma died, my Dad and his siblings were clearing out the house and dividing the household items amongst the family members.  In that division, Uncle Lyndie and Aunt Betty received the clock, complete with only one hand!  Betty and Lyndie decided to repair the clock and use it in their home, remembering this letter and Grandma every time they looked at the clock.  Aunt Betty went on to explain that the clock ultimately ended up in Cousin Mike’s possession and now it continues to tick, tick, tick in Mike’s daughter, Natalie’s home.  Thank you to Uncle Lyndie, Aunt Betty, Cousin Mike and now Cousin Natalie for taking care of that special clock and preserving a wonderful memory of our Grandma.  She was definitely worth remembering. 

"But do I qualify?"

Near the end of 2021, Indiana residents were being given their third Covid vaccination – usually referred to as their ‘booster’ shot.  There were rules governing who was eligible for the booster such as minimum age of 65 or immune-compromising health conditions such as high blood pressure, high cholesterol, diabetes, obesity, etc.  Chris did not yet meet the age requirement but wanted to inquire as to whether he could get the booster anyway.  As he hesitates to go to a doctor (until his mean sister forces him!  I’m talking about Sister Joyce here.), he was unaware of his cholesterol or blood pressure numbers and he didn’t take insulin or medication for diabetes so he assumed he didn’t have any of those ailments.   What about obesity?  Well, anyone looking at Brother Chris would quickly recognize that he likely fell into that category but there wasn’t anyone stupid enough to EVER say that he did. 

Chris set off to go the location where he received his first two vaccinations and as he sauntered up to the door, a female staff member came outside and locked the door and was obviously closing the facility for the day.  Chris said to her “Well, I guess you’re closing for the day.  When do you open next?”  She replied that the following day he should come back.  She gave Chris a thorough head-to-toe once-over and asked, “Do you qualify?  Are you 65?”  He replied that he was not.  She gave him another up-and-down.  “Well, do you have high blood pressure, diabetes or high cholesterol?”  Chris said no again.  She then gave him a long look up and down, likely knowing for sure that he had to have at least one of the previous ailments but MOST CERTAINLY was obese but she seemed to hesitate to label him as such.  So she asked a leading question, hoping that he would admit his weight issue – “Do you have any OTHER health issues that would qualify you for the booster early?  Chris thought for a moment, knowing exactly what she was fishing for.  He then replied, “How about erectile dysfunction?  Does it qualify me?”  Seeing Chris’ smart-ass grin, she quickly and urgently replied, “It sure does!”  Come back tomorrow!“  They both departed, laughing all the way.    

Father's Day Tribute

As Father’s Day approaches, it seems appropriate to share a story about Leonard Thayer, my paternal grandpa.   Leonard and his wife, Sarah had six children, 5 boys, 1 girl – all born between the years of 1915 and 1926.   They lived on an active farm, referred to as ‘the home place’ and in addition to farming, Grandpa was also the county auditor and trustee during his lifetime.  Grandma was a teacher before she became a mother.  Both would have been considered leaders in the small community where they lived.

Grandpa and Grandma were faithful church-going people, believed in peace and avoiding war, but WWII was front and center in the world and was giving them cause for doubt.  Should they encourage their family to participate?  Would there be a forced participation if volunteers didn’t step up and commit to defend the country and democracy.  Ultimately through much prayer, Grandma and Grandpa realized there was no other option.  Their support of the war was essential, including acceptance that their sons and daughter would likely be participating.  During WWII, four of their children signed up to participate in the war.  Sons, Tom and Dick both joined the Air Corp (now Air Force), Dave joined the Navy and Mary Alice became a nurse, assisting in the cause.  The oldest, Orrin Dodd, was already married with children and a practicing pastor and the youngest Lynn, was too young at the time but was intending to enlist when he could. 

Fast forward to 1944.  The war was had been raging for several years at this time and Dick and Tom were both seeing action, Tom in northern Africa and Dick in Germany.   Worry and stress became a part of the Thayer family’s daily life – wondering if Tom and Dick were safe.  Was progress being made toward a peaceful end to the war?  The stress hit a climax for Grandma and Grandpa when they received a telegram in April/1944, informing them that Dick was MIA (Missing in Action).   The plane that Dick had been in - The Passionate Witch II was shot down on March 28, 1944 at high noon.  As expected, the whole family was worried, fearful that Dick was dead.  Grandpa’s erratic and unusual behaviour indicated that he thought about Dick and his circumstances constantly.  Neighbours would find Grandpa in their barns in the early morning, an indication that he had not slept and just couldn’t come to grips with the news that Dick was missing and might be dead.  Grandpa was already grieving, fearing the worst.  They were informed that a couple of parachutes had opened as the plane was falling but no one knew to whom those chutes belonged.  Grandpa was angry – went to the Bartholomew County courthouse, cursing President Roosevelt for killing his son.  Family and friends worried that Grandpa was so upset that he might commit suicide or take some other crazy act.   This was such a different attitude for Grandpa.  He had always showed a ‘cock-eyed optimist’ type of attitude but this unknown threat to his family was more than a plucky attitude could overcome.

After five to six months of complete agony of ‘not knowing’, the Germans allowed Dick to write two letters home to communicate that he was alive.  The Germans redacted any information that they chose to remove.  Dick wrote one of the two letters to Grandma and Grandpa and one letter to his girlfriend, Evelyn Miller, who later became Dick’s wife, known to the family as Aunt Ebby.  On the day that the letter arrived, Ebby’s father, picked up the letter and saw that it was from Dick so he opened it!  Seemed like the right thing to do, right?  So many of the community were invested in Dick and his survival.  The letter contained the phrase, ‘behind barbed wire in Austria’ and also news that he had been captured, was getting enough to eat, playing a little basketball and that he had also written a letter to his parents to notify them that he was alive.  Ebby’s father proceeded to share the news and the content of the letter with all of the people and merchants on the town square.  The community celebrated the news and finally the news was delivered to Ebby.  Ebby wasn’t surprised to hear and read that Dick was alive.  She had not waivered in the belief that Dick had survived.  But obviously relieved to read the news, Ebby said, “I’m going out to give the news to Mr. and Mrs. Thayer and make sure that they know that Dick is alive and that they are getting a letter too”. 

Ebby went right out to the home place farm and found Grandma, preparing lunch and showed her the letter.  Grandma was so happy and asked if she could keep the letter so that Grandpa could read the letter for himself.  Ebby certainly agreed and left.  Grandma knew that Grandpa was out in the field, working on a tractor, so she went right out with the letter to share the news with Grandpa.  Grandpa saw Grandma hurriedly making her way across the field toward him, waving the letter over her head.  Grandpa idled the tractor down, put it in park but left the tractor running.  She reached Grandpa, said, “Leonard, Leonard!, Dick’s alive, Dick’s alive!”and handed him the letter.  Grandpa read the letter, and then said “I’ll be in to eat soon”, handed the letter back to Grandma.  She was puzzled and worried about Grandpa’s reaction but turned and made her way back to the house.  As she walked, she noticed that the idling of the tractor never changed, Grandpa had not gotten back on the tractor.  Wondering if Grandpa was okay, she quickly turned back to look and check to make sure that Grandpa was okay.  As she approached the area where the tractor continued to idle, she saw Grandpa had gone over to a log that had been rolled to the edge of the field.   He was on his knees, leaning against the log, weeping and heaving with tears and sobs of relief that Dick was alive, thanking the Lord for saving Dick.  Grandma was thankful that Grandpa could have his own time to process the news that Dick was alive – especially since Grandpa really thought Dick was dead.  She turned and returned to the house and finished preparing lunch.  Grandpa came in for lunch and they ate as normal as any other day and this showed Grandma that Grandpa was now okay. 

After the news sunk in for a time, Grandpa began to make plans for Dick’s escape from the prison, through the French underground tunnel, contacting Senators and anyone who would listen and that he felt might have influence to get his son home.  The escape never happened but Dick came home a few months after the family got the news. 

Grandpa was a father during an era when men didn’t exhibit their emotions freely.  They were to be strong and brave, accepting life and its many challenges.  For many men, showing emotion is still a no-no, unless of course it’s anger.  That is unfortunate as I feel that Grandpa’s demonstration of love for his family could have made a difference, if all knew that was who he really was and how he really felt.  I know that my Dad loved me but I never ever heard him say it.  Did it affect me?  Maybe?  It always gave me doubt of my worth, of my value to him, to our family and that translated into my self-worth as well.  But as a result, I have made a point of letting those that I love KNOW that I love them.  I don’t get embarrassed by making those emotional statements because I know how that statement of love can be translated.  Could mean a lot more than just love. 

Hope all fathers appreciate the joys and challenges of fatherhood.  Thanks to my Dad for his many strengths, gifts and his love, spoken or otherwise.