Thursday, November 11, 2010

In Honor of Veterans in the Family




For my cousin. US Navy 1992-1996.




For my dad. US Navy, 1968-1972, US Naval Reserves 1972-1994.




For my father-in-law. US Army, Vietnam 1966-1969.



For my husband's grandad. US Army, WWII, European theater.




For my grandad. US Marine Corp, WWII, Pacific theater.



For my great-great uncle. US Air Force, WWII. Shot down and killed over France.


For my cousin serving in the US Army now. For my grandmother's husband, WWII. For the veterans in our family who served in the Revolutionary and Civil Wars.




Happy Veteran's Day




Friday, November 5, 2010

World War II Redux




As a part of our (mostly unsuccessful) summer schooling experiment, we planned several field trips. One planned trip was to the county airport to eat in the restaurant and watch the planes land and take off. I should note that we live in a rural area, so there is really no security that prevents you from entering the lobby (or the two gates, for that matter). Reading in the local paper that there was to be a visit from two refurbished World War II airplanes solidified our plans.

In preparation for our afternoon, I dug out an old book that my grandma had given me when I was little. It was titled Air War in Hitler's Germany, and the cover says it is a part of the American Heritage Junior Library. The most notable thing about this book is that Grandma had written in it in Sharpie (she did that a lot with books, boxes and other items; once, I saw her basement cupboards lined with white paper on which she had written when she had cleaned them and when they were due to be cleaned again. I am failing mightily to live up to these standards of cleaning.). In this case, the Sharpie was to commemorate her Uncle Arthur, who served in WWII.

My grandma idolized her uncle. Arthur Stiles was about 10 years older than his niece, Mary Lou, who was teenager during the War. My grandma's mother came from a large family; she was the oldest and there were siblings that ranged on down to the age of her daughter, my grandma. Arthur was a radio man on a Flying Fortress. He wrote her letters and called her Hootie Ki, teased her about her lousy math grades. And then his plane was shot down in France.



My grandma didn't talk about Arthur very often, at least not to us grandkids. I knew that I had had an uncle who was killed in World War II, but I didn't realize then what that must have meant to the adults in my life who were children during that time.



Newspaper clipping from the Clearfield Progress, 1993.


So, off we went to see the planes and hopefully for Ethan and Meghan, to learn a little more about family history.

It was beautiful August day in central Pa; hot and sticky, made more so by climbing in and out of tight spaces.

Kids viewing forward area of B17 Liberator.


Ethan, walking on a gangway between landing gear on his way to the rear section of a B24 Liberator.

Manning the waist gunners' station.

Kids in front of the B 24 J Liberator "Witchcraft".


Requisite picture of the kids holding up the plane.





A B17 Flying Fortress.


Pilot and co-pilot stations.

Photos of Arthur Stiles at the radioman station on the B17 Flying Fortress "Nine-o-nine".


Message to Hitler in the bomb bay.

Ethan and Meghan, waiting for cold drinks and pie in the airport diner.




In honor of all WWII veterans, living and remembered, this Veteran's Day.