Remembering the Greatest Generation

I grew up in Waycross, Georgia.  Having been born in 1949, I was surrounded by war heroes but didn’t know it at the time.  I would go with my Dad to visit with his friends and hear the stories.  Some had fought in the infantry, some in tanks as my Uncle Alvin, and some on ships like my Dad, who entered  the Navy right at the end of the war.  They didn’t talk much about the war until they got together with other veterans. That’s when I loved to be around.  It seemed so exciting to a young boy, but you could also hear the horror in their memories as well.  I was near adulthood when it occurred to me that I grew up among heroes, truly the Greatest Generation.  They had sacrificed so much and all too many gave the ultimate sacrifice.

The most exciting stories of all came from one of the most reluctant heroes.  My father in law was George Franklin Brown.  He didn’t like to discuss the war.  However, I learned to start slowly and keep at him asking leading questions.  Then like mining for gold, every now and then he would open up with a nugget.  When he did, I knew I was sitting in the best seat in the house.  I would sit for an hour or more with chill bumps giving way to feelings of sorrow and pain.  He grew up in the little town of Seffner, Florida, just outside Tampa.  He was a smart boy excelling in school with a love for the outdoors.  One of his favorite reading subjects was World War I aviation.  Little did he imagine that they day would come when he would himself be flying the unfriendly skies.  He read illustrated books about the Red Baron and other flying aces of the day.  One story in particular had prophetic implications.  The author warned prospective airmen that while in combat they should “Beware of the Hun in the sun.”   The German fighter pilots of the Great War would attack as a column from the direction of the sun so you couldn’t see them until they were on top of you.  That little ominous phrase would one day save his life. 

“Papa”, as I came to call him after the grandkids started coming, joined with Army Air Corps as so many enlisted when our country entered the war.  He trained with a good friend from home.  He started as a gunner on dive bombers, but that was short lived because he found he would sometimes pass out in the radical dives and that proved not too helpful as a gunner.  He was moved to bombers and ended up as a tail gunner on the B-25.  Papa, a Christian with a Christian wife at home praying, saw Divine intervention on a regular basis.  Once he was taken from his squadron without any reason and reassigned. His old squadron was attacked right after his departure and they suffered great loss of life.  He found his way to a squadron stationed in North Africa.  The average life expectancy for an airman in that theater of war was 8 missions. Frank flew 63. He received numerous commendations and more than one Purple Heart. 

Frank was known for his character and integrity.  He was quick to volunteer for extra flights if there was a need.  Yet, he always came back in one piece.  A fellow airman wrote home and told his wife “there is an unseen presence around Frank Brown.”  On one mission, they dropped their bombs and were returning home.  They were a bit relieved because they had been told to expect heavy resistance. They had received none.  Then, off in a distance several German fighters appeared doing aerial acrobatics just out of gun range.  Everyone in the squadron had their guns trained on the fighters.  Suddenly Frank hears this voice in his head, “Beware of the Hun in the sun”!  He realized the sun was on the other side of the plane, and quickly turned in his turret in that direction.  At that very second, Frank could see glistening on a sunbeam a group of enemy fighters heading directly toward them-the aerial show was a distraction. He immediately opened fire on the formation with his .50 caliber machine gun and screamed a warning over the radio.  The attack of the enemy was thwarted.  There are many stories like this one.  Before it was over we were usually crying, especially Papa.  I didn’t ask about the war too often because while it did seem to have a cathartic effect, it also stirred up deep wounds.  Nightmares and often violent ones continued for years after the war.  The day he watched a good friend blown from the sky haunted him to the day he died.  He grieved on the anniversary of the crash every year and some think may have even led to a stroke when he was 80.  But despite these deep wounds, Papa, like many of his fellow brethren that served in that War, somehow managed to protect his family from these psychological burdens while keeping his character and integrity intact.

I am told we are losing 1200 of these old warriors every day.  The Bible tells us, “Greater love has no one than to lay down his life for his friends”.  Papa and his generation paid a price in pain and suffering that hopefully we will never have to experience.  All we can do is honor their sacrifice and say a heartfelt “thank you”.

Remembering George Franklin Brown: 1921-2006