"Dangerous Dan" That was the planes name. Today in the span of an hour I helped a man find out two things. What happened to his plane, and what happened to his friends father.
To understand you'll have to go back with me to 12.22.43, once more to the skies over Europe. Why do we keep going there? Everyday the men who were there grow older and with age, the memories begin to come back over a lifetime. They are a bridge spanning the time between youth and the period just before death, from a time when we can't see the end to a time where it is always with us. And these men with their memories have as many questions as I do. Sometimes, we need each others help.
Like today.
Background. My mother calls me with the number of a gentleman who has been trying to reach me. Says he has some things I may be interested in. I call out of curiousity. The man was with the 8th Airforce, 379th Bomb Group, 524th Squadron. We chatted it up for awhile and then he asked his question.
"You ever heard of 'Dangerous Dan'?"
I'm 27. I was born 26 years after the conflict ended. Hundreds, indeed thousands of bombers were built during WWII. The 379th lost over 140 herself. And I was supposed to have heard of one? Sure, names like Sad Sack, Sentimental Journey, Strawberry Bitch, Patches, Memphis Belle, they all mean something, but never, in all my reading had I heard of Dangerous Dan and it didn't surprise me.
"No. Was she yours?"
"One of 'em, but it was so long ago and we lost so many..." His voice seemed to fade on the other end of the line for a moment.
"A fellow asked me about her awhile back, wanted to know if I knew anybody who could tell him about her crew or what happened to her, I was just hoping you'd heard. His father was on board"
Isn't that something, a fellow who was there hoping I'd heard about a plane that dissapeared 28 years before I was born.
I logged on. Checked some records and found a pilot from the 379th, 524th who was alive and had an email address. He had heard of Dangerous Dan. He knew the serial number and the pilot and the day the plane was lost. 12.22.43. It was on a raid to an aircraft plant in Germany and crash landed in Suffolk, England. The plane was salvaged (which means scrapped for parts) and the crew...well lets just say they almost made it home.
I called the man back and gave him the info. It started coming back to him.
"Yeah, that winter in England we got moved around a lot, things happened so fast. We lost a lot of planes and I remember Dangerous Dan, being assigned to the plane, but it wasn't around long after I got it. Now I remember that day, she didn't make it back...no, I remember they sent a salvage party on the 24th down to Suffolk. I didn't go, I had to get another plane combat ready...it took a long time to get one ready you know."
"Yeah, that winter in England we got moved around a lot, things happened so fast. We lost a lot of planes and I remember Dangerous Dan, being assigned to the plane, but it wasn't around long after I got it. Now I remember that day, she didn't make it back...no, I remember they sent a salvage party on the 24th down to Suffolk. I didn't go, I had to get another plane combat ready...it took a long time to get one ready you know."
"Lt. Davis was flying you say?"
"Yeah."
"I remember him too, funny guy, but he played it straight. He should've made it back. A lot of them almost did. You know we had one plane that had one wing in the water and one on land...they made it. You couldn't get too caught up though, we were young and all."
And so one more plane from the 524th can rest in peace. One more family can finally know what happened to there husband, father. Not that they were lost over Europe, but how, when. What the temperature was like that day. What the grass smelled like. What shade of blue the sky was. They can talk to someone who last saw the plane as it made the coast of England for the last time and talk to the fellow who worked on her before she lifted off that last time. Not because of me. I'm a thread, a middle man.
And so one more plane from the 524th can rest in peace. One more family can finally know what happened to there husband, father. Not that they were lost over Europe, but how, when. What the temperature was like that day. What the grass smelled like. What shade of blue the sky was. They can talk to someone who last saw the plane as it made the coast of England for the last time and talk to the fellow who worked on her before she lifted off that last time. Not because of me. I'm a thread, a middle man.
The web can make time and distance shrink. Like those memories that come flooding back to the old, it can bridge a gap, and for that we must be thankful...and careful.
goodnight 10.8.98
(Source)
No comments:
Post a Comment