Happy Valentine's Jeffrey!

And who is Jeffrey?  I don’t know.  At least not yet, but more likely, never will. I did send him a Valentine of sorts today. And predictably, it has something to do with my time travel expedition absorbing my grandmother’s treasure trove of personal correspondence dating back to 1903.  The other day, I realized I held in my hand, notes beautifully written by the hands of two of my maternal great-great grandmothers. Notes to their granddaughter, my grandmother, when she was a young woman—providing me with loving lenses through which to see her.

But all this has nothing to do with Jeffrey. Today, I came across in my perusal of a packet of letters dated in the 1930s and ‘40s, a 1944 newsletter written for the Ladies of the Red Cross based in Fort Worth Texas during WWII. It was easy to see why ‘Keep’ was written across the top since a paragraph, marked in the margin, listed my mother and grandmother as volunteer package wrappers for the troops. I started to move it to the ‘Read’ side of my table when I decided to read further the news of the day. That’s when I found it…my pearl.

An announcement of a radio show spotlighted their upcoming guest, a pilot in the South Pacific Air Transport Command.  On this pilot’s first combat flight, he transported precious high-test gasoline to Guadalcanal, surrounded the whole time by aggressive Japanese aircraft.  His return mission carried even more precious cargo…23 gravely wounded soldiers.  Due to the overloading of his craft, no medical personnel were able to accompany the troops, so the pilot not only flew through rough inclement weather, but also administered medical care as he commandeered them all back to safety.

Enter the rabbit hole of researching further this incredible flying Ace. I discovered through his obituary that he was only 22 years old when he flew his heroic mission. It occurred to me that perhaps thousands of valentines being celebrated today, may never have happened if those 23 soldiers had not been lifted to well-being and basically the rest of their lives. Do any of their offspring know their debt of gratitude owed to this man?

 Hopefully, I found his offspring. I made a copy of the newsletter and posted it through the USPS with a brief note of explanation to his grandson, Jeffrey. I felt reading the obituary that he may have been a humble man, one not likely to speak of his heroic actions.  Happy Valentine’s Day, Jeffrey. Cheers to your Grandpa!