Ribbons & Medals

The memories of an old warrior are not always exactly correct, but in Charlie's case, they were precise. 1943 did not come and go as other years had, but remained fixed in his everyday recollections, as well as his ongoing thoughts. Blanche was not a wife, in the conventional sense because she lived his life with him, as an integral, inseparable part, as was he of hers. It was as if they were really one person and even though she had passed away, only her physical form left, not her spiritual one. They had shared a life, as well as a war.

Charlie was a B-24 bomber co-pilot on a mission to Romania to destroy oil fields serving the Axis powers and the reason he lived that raid now was because, in many ways, he died then, but continued to evolve, with Blanche, through life, which appeared to be shorter every day. He was getting a gift today, and that gift was Erik, his great-nephew, but Charlie couldn't remember how many "greats." It was a price he paid for getting so old. He would be 96 on Sunday.

He looked at the wall and studied a picture of his aircraft and crew. Miss Prickly looked good, and obviously survived the mission. There was a knock at the door and he opened it and there stood Erik, with a box. Maybe he was getting a pre-birthday gift but when he looked in the box and Erik's beautiful eyes, he received a gift far beyond words.