Not many people get to come back from the dead but my father did. Well, sort of.
Dad was born in 1915. He was raised in Cazenovia. As he got older everyone in Caz said he looked like the actor Lew Ayres and indeed he did. Anyway, after a lengthy stay in high school, he decided to join the Army. This was around 1935, the middle of the depression, and jobs were scarce. He spent some of that time stationed in Hawaii where he called Schofield Barracks home. This same Schofield Barracks was the setting for the novel ‘From Here to Eternity’ by James Jones and the 1953 film based on it. Dad was in the Army Signal Corps and for the most part loved Hawaii.
After his Army stint he became a New York State Trooper. He was stationed and lived in the barracks at Remsen, on the edge of the Adirondacks.
When war broke out in late 1941 Dad had a choice. He could keep working as a trooper with that exemption or he could join the Army again. He decided to join up again. This decision was mostly based on what he felt was his patriotic duty. There was another reason, however. He said that if he had stayed working as a trooper he would have never heard the end of it from his older brother Tom. Sibling rivalry you know.
As it turned out both my father and Uncle Tom ended up aboard B-17 bombers. Tom was a turret gunner and Dad a tail gunner. However they were not stationed at the same bases in England. Dad was stationed in central England near the town of Kettering. USAAF base Grafton Underwood was large and was adjacent to a tiny village of the same name.
My wife, daughter and I visited Grafton Underwood in November 2007. Many of the beautiful homes there still have thatched roofs. There isn’t much of the airfield left though. A nice monument stands outside of the town a bit and there are just the bones of a barracks and a few other buildings. For some reason Helen Fielding’s fictional heroine Bridget Jones also called this place home.
Uncle Tom Kennedy was stationed further south. My father met up with him once in London during their stay there.
Dad flew 31 missions out of the Grafton Underwood base from late April to mid July 1944. These included four trips to Berlin and the bombing of a bridge in Caen, France early on D Day morning.
Now Dad made many friends during this time. He also lost a few as their planes went down or came back crippled. Probably his best friend was a man named McAllister. His family was and is well known in New York City harbor. The family business is tugboats. This clan lived out in the Great Neck/ Glen Cove area on the northern shore of Long Island. Anyway, these men really hit it off…partying with the local gals when they could between missions.
Either my Dad left England before McAllister or visa versa in any case at some point Mr. McAllister was (mis)informed of my father’s death. He was told that Dad’s plane was shot down with no survivors.
McAllister felt really sad as he had lost a close friend. A friend he had met during a perilous time for both of them.
A few years later this McAllister ventured up to Oswego harbor on a business trip. After several days there he made it a point to get down to Cazenovia. He wanted to tell my grandfather and the rest of the family what a great guy my Dad was and share some stories from their time in England.
The first place he stopped in Cazenovia on that Saturday afternoon was Colligan’s Gas Station. He told Bob of his mission and asked for directions. Bob replied “Dead? Charlie ain’t dead! He’s probably having a beer up at the Cazenovia House right now!”
So my father, in McAllister’s eyes, had risen from the dead. They had a wonderful reunion in rollicking postwar Caz.
By the way, The Cazenovia House was as close to as you could find to a classic Hollywood western saloon. Of course it predated the movies but that is the best way to describe it here. It had a long porch out front with old men kicked back in wooden chairs, swinging doors, a long beautiful bar and a pot bellied stove…the works! It was torn down around 1955. I was fortunate to have visited there with my father.
Mike Driscoll, Don’s father, who somewhat resembled the actor Victor McLaglen, always made a fuss over me whenever I entered.”How ya doin KNOTHEAD!” he would yell out while laughing away. He always called me knothead.
But, I digress. My Dad and Mr. McAllister never saw each other again. However Mr. McAllister did call the house every Christmas for years afterwards until his death. Dad died about a decade later, in 2002.
Perhaps, as in the popular World War Two tune sung by Vera Lynn, they met again somewhere for a beer or two somehow. Don’t know where. Don’t know when.
Dad was born in 1915. He was raised in Cazenovia. As he got older everyone in Caz said he looked like the actor Lew Ayres and indeed he did. Anyway, after a lengthy stay in high school, he decided to join the Army. This was around 1935, the middle of the depression, and jobs were scarce. He spent some of that time stationed in Hawaii where he called Schofield Barracks home. This same Schofield Barracks was the setting for the novel ‘From Here to Eternity’ by James Jones and the 1953 film based on it. Dad was in the Army Signal Corps and for the most part loved Hawaii.
After his Army stint he became a New York State Trooper. He was stationed and lived in the barracks at Remsen, on the edge of the Adirondacks.
When war broke out in late 1941 Dad had a choice. He could keep working as a trooper with that exemption or he could join the Army again. He decided to join up again. This decision was mostly based on what he felt was his patriotic duty. There was another reason, however. He said that if he had stayed working as a trooper he would have never heard the end of it from his older brother Tom. Sibling rivalry you know.
As it turned out both my father and Uncle Tom ended up aboard B-17 bombers. Tom was a turret gunner and Dad a tail gunner. However they were not stationed at the same bases in England. Dad was stationed in central England near the town of Kettering. USAAF base Grafton Underwood was large and was adjacent to a tiny village of the same name.
My wife, daughter and I visited Grafton Underwood in November 2007. Many of the beautiful homes there still have thatched roofs. There isn’t much of the airfield left though. A nice monument stands outside of the town a bit and there are just the bones of a barracks and a few other buildings. For some reason Helen Fielding’s fictional heroine Bridget Jones also called this place home.
Uncle Tom Kennedy was stationed further south. My father met up with him once in London during their stay there.
Dad flew 31 missions out of the Grafton Underwood base from late April to mid July 1944. These included four trips to Berlin and the bombing of a bridge in Caen, France early on D Day morning.
Now Dad made many friends during this time. He also lost a few as their planes went down or came back crippled. Probably his best friend was a man named McAllister. His family was and is well known in New York City harbor. The family business is tugboats. This clan lived out in the Great Neck/ Glen Cove area on the northern shore of Long Island. Anyway, these men really hit it off…partying with the local gals when they could between missions.
Either my Dad left England before McAllister or visa versa in any case at some point Mr. McAllister was (mis)informed of my father’s death. He was told that Dad’s plane was shot down with no survivors.
McAllister felt really sad as he had lost a close friend. A friend he had met during a perilous time for both of them.
A few years later this McAllister ventured up to Oswego harbor on a business trip. After several days there he made it a point to get down to Cazenovia. He wanted to tell my grandfather and the rest of the family what a great guy my Dad was and share some stories from their time in England.
The first place he stopped in Cazenovia on that Saturday afternoon was Colligan’s Gas Station. He told Bob of his mission and asked for directions. Bob replied “Dead? Charlie ain’t dead! He’s probably having a beer up at the Cazenovia House right now!”
So my father, in McAllister’s eyes, had risen from the dead. They had a wonderful reunion in rollicking postwar Caz.
By the way, The Cazenovia House was as close to as you could find to a classic Hollywood western saloon. Of course it predated the movies but that is the best way to describe it here. It had a long porch out front with old men kicked back in wooden chairs, swinging doors, a long beautiful bar and a pot bellied stove…the works! It was torn down around 1955. I was fortunate to have visited there with my father.
Mike Driscoll, Don’s father, who somewhat resembled the actor Victor McLaglen, always made a fuss over me whenever I entered.”How ya doin KNOTHEAD!” he would yell out while laughing away. He always called me knothead.
But, I digress. My Dad and Mr. McAllister never saw each other again. However Mr. McAllister did call the house every Christmas for years afterwards until his death. Dad died about a decade later, in 2002.
Perhaps, as in the popular World War Two tune sung by Vera Lynn, they met again somewhere for a beer or two somehow. Don’t know where. Don’t know when.