I mentioned yesterday
that the generation of World War I veterans has died off, and the ones from the
Second World War are also fading away. But they’re going with style. And here
are two stories about that.
Three of the last
surviving airmen
of the Doolittle Raid on Tokyo in 1942 held their last reunion yesterday at
the National Museum of the US Air Force in Dayton, Ohio. The fourth was not
well enough to join them. They’re all in their 90s.
At a time when Americans
were still stunned by the attack on Pearl Harbor and Japanese advances throughout
the Pacific, James H. “Jimmy” Doolittle led 80 men flying B-25 bombers on a
one-way raid into the heart of the Empire to essentially make the point that
the sleeping tiger was indeed awake and that there would be consequences.
Because there were no aircraft that could fly round trip, they dropped their
bombs on Tokyo and then flew on to land in China. Many did not make it.
It was a bold,
possibly suicidal mission, but it shocked the Japanese and raised American
morale at a time when both outcomes were magnified in the extreme.
Yesterday Richard
Cole, 98, Edward Saylor, 93 and David Thatcher, 93, met and drank a toast with
107-year-old cognac from a bottle that was at one time Doolittle’s. Cole
proposed the toast.
“…To those we lost on
the mission and those who have passed away since. Thank you very much, and may
they rest in peace.”
My second story is
also about a vet from WWII—an air ground crewman for the Royal Air Force’s
Bomber Command named Harold Jellicoe
Percival. He died last month in a Lancashire retirement home, aged 99. Percival
was part of another seminal bombing operation, the Dambusters raid of 1943 over
the Ruhr.
Because he never
married and had no direct family, the managers were afraid that his funeral
would have no one to mourn him. A small story in the local paper went viral on social networks as
the call went out for service members to ensure that Percival did not go alone
into that good night. It came multiple times into my Twitter feed at the
weekend.
And it turns out that
hundreds answered the call—more than 400, as a matter of fact. The 300 who
couldn’t get into the funeral home stood outside in the rain and then followed
Percival on his last journey.
Like I said—that generation
is fading. In their 90s now; and that’s the young ones. But they’re not
forgotten, thank God.
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