Soon the plane descended toward a house. The pilot gunned the engine. The plane rose a tad, just enough to make it over the roof. Seconds later the plane crashed. It blew up in a fireball across the street. Flames spread to a forest. The boy peddled on his bicycle to the site of the calamity.
The two men inside the aircraft were killed. They were British military airmen on a training flight. Chances were, their deaths received little attention. They crashed on June 6, 1944, the same day Allied forces stormed the beaches of Normandy.
The two men were buried near Boston. They were pretty much forgotten.
Fifty-seven years later, an American tourist visited England. By happenstance, a local person directed him to a World War II monument. It honored an American pilot who had crashed there.
By coincidence, the American pilot was from the town where the two British airmen had crashed. By yet another coincidence, the tourist was that boy who'd spotted the British aircraft.
The tourist went home to Massachusetts, contacted historians, and learned the names of the deceased British pilots. Through his efforts a memorial to the airmen, a Union Jack with a plaque, was created (as seen in the photo).
I had often driven by the monument without knowing what it commemorated. One day curiosity got the best of me. I pulled my car over and read the plaque. Then I went online. An article in the Boston Globe provided more information.
Today is Memorial Day. By tradition we honor fallen American soldiers. I shall break with tradition. When the trumpeter recites taps, I'll offer up a prayer for the souls of two British airmen, Lieutenant Albert Dawson and First Class Stanley Wells.
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