American Legacies Organization, Inc.

The village that we stayed in while we were there was shelled the morning that we landed, and most of it had burnt completely flat. One native woman cooked a ton of food for us. We had fried chicken twice while there, which was a treat, and a thanks at the same time. Then one of the boys bought a pig and they cooked that while we were there.

There was one thing about the wind that comes howling in the winter, (howling is when the wind makes a noise that sounds like a train, then it gets louder, then fades, then comes back again). The major reason for the howling is usually due to cracks in the walls,

We flew our 24th mission on New Years Day 1945, and from our 14th mission on, we Led or Deputy Lead in the formation of our 36 plane formation. It was a position in formation we thought and considered to be safe. At least better than tail end Charlie. We were flying Deputy Lead on January 6, 1945, target railroad marshalling yards was our primary, Duetz Bridge, Cologne, Germany our secondary target.

When thinking back, about days gone by, we can recall the different games we played as young’uns; it may have been marbles, played with “Cat-eyes and logrollers, dodge ball, or the more manly game of “Mumbly-Peg.”

The whole time that we were on the front it rained, day and night. So, I suppose that did not make it any easier. They told us that it would probably rain for at least two more months. I was wet and scared, dug into a little three foot fox hole, and seeing my first action of the war. One of the two other boys whom I came into this outfit with were wounded on the front. He was only a few yards away from me when he was hit. It was just an arm wound, so he was all right, but it definitely indoctrinated us into the combat life.

In 1950, Elizabeth McCaughen was 23 years old, a graduate of Washington University in St. Louis, Missouri, where she earned her Bachelors in Psychology in 1948, and was currently enrolled in the Masters program at the same University. 29-year-old Harry Blagbrough was working for the Fish and Wildlife Service. Little did these two young people know that their paths were about to cross, and that neither of their lives was ever going to be the same again.

William Gieske during WWII

By William Gieske

(Continued from 2/7/22)

There were six of the black, eight week old pups in the cardboard box when we looked inside. All the pups looked fat and healthy except one. For some odd reason, his tail was only a stub and he was clearly the runt of the litter. He apparently didn’t realize he was small as he bulled his way right up to the front of the box, so he could get his fair share of our attention.

Hello, Miss Thuerk, he said with a smile. If you’d like a ride home, Ill be getting off work in five minutes. That’s my car across the street. He nodded toward his blue convertible, a 1934 blue Buick Roadster. Go ahead and sit in the car. Thank you. Adeline climbed in and admired the car while she waited. Johnny Sundblad drove her home without much conversation, but a week later he came into the Royal Blue and asked Charlie Thuerk if he could take his daughter to a movie theater that night.

In the 30s young men and women courted by seeing each other in church, or attending a church singing, or it might be dinner on the ground after a revival, but always in public, never going somewhere alone. Young men living in the country had to walk everywhere, their family’s mule had to rest so as to be strong for plowing the next day.