By Richard Mabey Jr.

At the dawn of soon becoming 68, I reflect upon the thousand and one questions that I would now love to ask my late father. My dad and his seven brothers and one sister, would often talk about the Holy Bible that their mom had setting open upon a little table in their living room. The legend goes that my grandmother believed that the open Bible was a source of spiritual protection for her family. And, the legacy is that Grandma kept the big, family Bible open to the page of John 3:16. “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him, should not perish, but have everlasting life.” On the wall above the Bible were photographs of Grandma’s family.

In the early Spring of 1943, the ship upon which my dad’s brother, Edward, was stationed on was sunk by a German warship, not far from the coast of England. Uncle Ed was missing in action for quite a while. I cannot imagine the horrific emotional and psychological pain that my grandparents endured, during that terribly uncertain time. 

In my time of growing up in the big family farmhouse along Mabey Lane, I remember that my father would often reflect upon the era when Uncle Ed was lost at sea, missing in action. Dad often talked about how his dear, sweet mother prayed and prayed every day that her son Edward would be found and return home, safe and sound. A British ship did come upon the survivors of that sunken ship that Uncle Ed was stationed on. And, Uncle Ed was saved.

The days when Uncle Ed was lost at sea, missing in action, had a most deep and profound effect upon my father’s heart, mind and soul. Somehow and someway, Dad convinced his mother and father to sign the paperwork that would allow him to join the United States Army Air Corps at the age of 17. Grandpa’s brother, Earl, was killed in action in France during the First World War. Grandma’s grandfather, William Storms, was killed fighting with the Union Army’s 15th New Jersey Regiment, during the Battle of the Wilderness. Her father was but a baby in a cradle when Great Grandpa Storms fell to a bullet wound. 

My grandparents the pains of war. And, they did not want another one of their sons to have to march off to war. My grandparents were very patriotic people, but they dreaded seeing another son leave the little hamlet of Lincoln Park, to go off to fight in war. But somehow and someway, Dad convinced his parents to sign the paperwork to allow him to join the United Sates Army Air Corps.

After his basic training was completed, Dad was assigned to the Seventh Army Air Corps. He was sent to Hickam Air Field in Hawaii. There he drove a fuel tanker truck and fueled up the many, many fighter and bomber airplanes at Hickam. He later became an airplane mechanic and specialized in changing the spark plugs of the infamous P-51 Mustang Fighter Planes. 

During his stay at Hickam Air Field, Dad had the honor to become acquainted with the great Jerry Siegel, the man who, with his friend Joe Shuster, created Superman. It must have been a few hundred times that I would be reading a Superman comic book, as a young boy, and Dad would tell me that he knew the man who created Superman. I deeply regret not putting my comic book down and listening more intently to Dad’s stories of having known the legendary Jerry Siegel. But at the age of eight, you don’t always appreciate what is right before you. 

Dad belonged to the American Legion and Veterans of Foreign Wars organizations for decades. Dad loved his country and was a most patriotic man. In his 28 years of serving as Scoutmaster of Boy Scout Troop 170 of Lincoln Park, my father taught hundreds of boys how to properly care for the United States flag. Dad also taught many, many boys, the cherished history and development of our nation’s flag. It was one of the aspects of being a Scoutmaster that was near and dear to Dad’s heart.

It’s a funny thing. When I turned 18, I tried to join the National Guard. They turned me down because I have a damaged Mitral Heart Valve. So, I never got to fully know what it was like to be in the service. I know that my father got very homesick while he was stationed in Hawaii. I remember Dad’s younger brothers would kid around with Dad that, in every single letter that he wrote home, Dad would remind his brothers to take good care of his train village that was set up in the upstairs hallway.  

If you have a relative or friend that is presently in the armed services, please do consider writing them a little note with a few words of appreciation for their selfless sacrifice. For they are the defenders of our precious freedom. 

Richard Mabey Jr. is a freelance writer. He can be reached at richardmabeyjr@hotmail.com. Please put on the subject line: My Life Publications.