Reservist accompanies WWII veterans on Honor Flight

  • Published
  • By Charlie Miller
  • 445 Airlift Wing
My fourteen-year-old son has this habit of parading around our home saying loudly and slowly "I am dying." You get used to it. And yet, somewhere deep inside, you know it's true but you don't want to think about it. For WWII veterans my son's epigram is serious business. They are dying at a rate of 1200 a day.

Recently, I had the distinct honor of spending a day with 40 WWII veterans; all very much alive. We traveled from Columbus, Ohio to Washington DC. as a group with an amazing organization called Honor Flight, a non-profit group that takes WWII veterans to our nation's capital to see the memorial erected in their honor on the National Mall.

As a technical sergeant with almost 20 years of service I felt a brotherhood with them. Without question, I told myself, we have something in common.

Tickets were handed out, attendance was taken and all were briefed on what to expect during this one day journey. Most of the veterans had fresh, excited eyes; the eyes of their youth. Some were spry and ornery. While many were eager to share stories from over 60 years ago, some were not.

Smiling people applauded the veterans as we boarded the Southwest Airlines jet at 8:00 a.m. at Port Columbus International. Some of the veterans were taken aback, surprised by the accolades. I hope deep down they realized that the applause were heartfelt and genuine.

The flight was perfect. The captain acknowledged the veterans from the cockpit. More applause. And even more when we deplaned in Baltimore. Southwest had made it clear that the veterans, on what the airline calls a Freedom Flight, were very special passengers.

Brutal, blast furnace heat met us in Washington. It was 97 degrees and mostly sunny. All but a couple of the veterans were over 80 years old, one was 92. It wasn't hard to figure out that this would be tough on them. Our first stop was our longest and the one with the least amount of shade; the WWII Memorial, the pinnacle of the trip.

Former U.S. Senator and 1996 presidential candidate Bob Dole, a disabled WWII veteran himself, was waiting for us. When he's in Washington and an Honor Flight group comes in, he makes a point of greeting them at the memorial.

The instantly recognizable figure stood in the shade directly in front of the main entrance and talked one-on-one with all. The one female veteran on the trip said with a shining, bright glow on her face that the senator had looked her right in the eye as they chatted. The senator took time to pose for pictures and swap war stories. A group of people not with Honor Flight began to gather but the senator was focused on the WWII veterans.

Bob Dole was wearing a dark blue, maybe black suit coat and pants with a polo type shirt while almost everyone else at the memorial was in shorts. I'm not sure how he did it, dressed like that in the heat, but I told myself it must be the brotherhood of veterans of that huge war. Dole had turned 84 years old 11 days earlier.

We had two hours and fifteen minutes blocked for the memorial. After all, it was the main reason for the trip. Some stopped and stared at the immense memorial before walking in.

Most of the veterans were back at the main entrance in 45 minutes sitting in their wheelchairs or resting on benches under the huge shade trees. Thankfully, a soft breeze helped cool them down. I could see many wiping sweat from their foreheads and flapping their special Honor Flight WWII Veteran t-shirts.

Two Virginia based Veterans of Foreign Wars chapters were there volunteering their time to greet and visit with the Ohio veterans. And they had with them mountains of bottled water iced down in pull-along coolers. "They were looking for us with the water, everywhere you turned there was a VFW guy with cold water," U.S. Army veteran Rodney Boydston said. The water was needed and most assuredly appreciated.

Back on the bus, I spent a good deal of time seated next to a Navy man. Sharp, articulate and ready to tell me his story. I asked him how he'd heard about Honor Flight. "I volunteer at a senior center on Morse Road in Columbus and two guys who went got me the application." We talked about his time in WWII. He was 19 when he enlisted in the Navy.

"I saw the four corners of the earth in my three years in the Navy." No leave; just three straight years of duty, other than a day off here and there I'm sure. He told me they did get time at various ports of call, but only in the friendly countries.

"South America, Russia, Africa, the South Pacific, Okinawa. I've been in more foreign countries than I've been in states here in the US." We laughed and he told me what an incredible experience it had been for a young man, leaving home at 19 and literally sailing around the world.

His mood changed as he told me about his son who was a Vietnam veteran but had died in a car accident after returning home. The pain still lingered, there was no disguising it.

The comments at lunch were mostly about the sweet, juicy ham and the large portions they were served, not war stories. Only a few of those on the trip knew each other and the hour long lunch gave them time to interact. They all had WWII in common, then maybe the same branch of the military or a part of the world where they had served.

I listened a lot. In reality, how could you not? Paul and Lester Mayhew, two brothers from north central Ohio were repeatedly asked if they were twins. They were not and they had enlisted at different times in different branches of the service only to reunite back home on the farm after the war. The lone female, who said she rose to the rank of private first class in the Women's Army Corps, was asked frequently where she served and what she did. Ages were compared. I heard one man state "I'm only 82." Only 82. I had to smile and wonder if in 32 more years I'll be able make that same proud announcement.

"We are dying and our stories need to be recorded or something," said Army Air Corps veteran William Warren "Once we're gone all the stories about what we did during the war are gone, too." Warren had brought with him a stack of copied Yank magazines. He had 60 issues of the wartime weekly back home. "I just paid the subscription and had them mail them to my parents back home," Warren said. He'd kept the issues all these years and was now sharing them. Copies were read and passed from veteran to veteran on the plane and later on the bus. "I've got more at home if you want to see them," he told me with great seriousness after I mentioned I was writing an article about the trip.

William Warren's almost desperate cry for some preservation of the veterans' stories came true to a point. Traveling with the group was a team from Ohio State University's WOSU-TV Channel 34. They were aboard to produce a documentary about WWII veterans. They interviewed at least half of the veterans, Honor Flight staff and volunteers. The program is expected to air in the late fall and I cannot wait to see it.

I was so very lucky to hear their stories and to be part of their visit to the memorial. What a treasure I'd just received. I thought to myself when I hit 80 just maybe I'll be visiting the Desert Storm Memorial and the Operation Iraqi Freedom Memorial in Washington D.C. and be with other veterans from those conflicts. If that does happen I'll most assuredly make a return visit the WWII Memorial and take time to hear their stories again in my mind. The brotherhood is truly that strong.