If We Only Knew -Veterans Day

By: Martha Passman | 2012

On a dusty shelf, in a tiny thrift store in North Georgia, sat an old gold plated glass liquor decanter.

As I traveled along my usual route through the shop, I spotted a decorative bottle resting among vintage glasses and candlesticks, $2.95!  Of course I put it in my stash of finds without a second glance.  I was already thinking about the next treasure to be found.

After a long day of picking, boxes and bags of newspaper wrapped items are usually deposited where ever space is found in my garage, until I can prepare them to be put in my shop.

Months later, while un-wrapping a couple of boxes of merchandise, I came across the decanter.  I studied its shape and speckled remains of gold and I thought how pretty it would look on a book shelf or in a collection of vintage bar finds and bottles.   As I sat there studying the bottle, I noticed a label for the first time, Kentucky Tavern – Personally Selected for Kenneth Gissonne; Rio Rita; 403 Bomb SQ 43 GRP.

I can’t describe the feeling that came over me!  Was this a gift for a person who was part of a bomb squadron?   What or who was Rio Rita?  I immediately dropped everything I was doing and headed straight for my lap top!

The first thing I researched was 403 Bomb Squadron.  Yes!  There it was, the 403rd Bomb Squadron was an active unit of the United States Air Force from 1940 to 1946.  Then later reactivated and then closed during 1961. 

It was activated in 1940, during WWII, as a long range reconnaissance squadron that operated over the mid Atlantic states and later the Newfoundland Straits and the North Atlantic shipping lanes.   In 1942, it was reassigned to Australia and flew from Australia and New Guinea and participated in the Battle of Bismarck Sea.  The squadron also flew over China and Japan performing multitudes of bombing runs.

Now I was on to something!  Next was Rio Rita!  Initially, all I could find was information on a 1927 romantic comedy musical named Rio Rita, written by Florenz Ziegfield and a 1929 movie based on the same story. The story does involve spies and secret service so I assumedsince the movie was the most popular of its day, it must have been well known.  

I finally came across copies of old newsletters that began in 1981.  Known as the 43rd Bomb Group Assn. Inc. – these men remained connected via mailed newsletters and annual meetings!  The 43rd Bomb Group, calledKEN’S MEN, consisted of four different squadrons of bombers, the 403rd being one of them!

I read through several newsletters, announcing member’s deaths, changes of addresses, comments and memories by different members, until, there it was, a small paragraph in the 32nd edition from August, 1989.

“Bryan A. Flatt, 403rd, a new member, says to tell Kenneth Gissonne, 403rd Navigator, he was on the Wewak Mission, 27, August, 1943, and had returned (to base) when Rio Rita came in for landing, shot up, no landing gear, etc.  He will be at the reunion, so see him there to talk it over.”

Ah Ha!  So the Rio Rita was a plane and Kenneth Gissonne was its Navigator!  It sounded as if they had been through an air battle!  I was excited to finally find something!  

Then in an earlier newsletter, 31st edition, dated, May 1989 I read, “On 8/23/43, mission which turned out to be a little rough. Plane was Rio Rita, Crew: Pilot, George Putnam; Co-Pilot, John Taylor; Navigator, Kenneth Gissonne; Bombardier, Phil Wolf.”  The newsletter goes on to list several crew members.  It then states:  “Damage, One KIA, three wounded, two engines shot out, nose wheel retracted, over 200 bullet holes.”

Thank goodness they were able to make it back to base!  I could not imagine the horror of being shot at, losing engines, possibly being on fire and injured and dying crew members! I found three different mentions of the air battle and subsequent crash landing in the air field, but cannot confirm the actual date.  

More research and several hours later I finally found a photo, there she was, the Rio Rita, a B24 Liberator Bomber!

After reading hours of newsletters, absorbing these veteran’s lives, I was overwhelmed with a sense of gratitude.  Over 750 men were killed serving in the 43rdGroup. These men who were teenagers and 20 year olds, left their homes, traveled to Australia and then New Guinea of all places, experienced terrible Japanese bombing runs on the island, saw native families and villages destroyed, death and suffering not only of the locals but their brother airmen as well.  They came home filled with memories they would never forget.  They came home sharing a bond of experience, hardship, pride and patriotism!  

Each newsletter included a section called Gone But Not Forgotten, listing the men who passed away since the previous newsletter, and there it was, Kenneth Gissonne passed away on March 20, 2005, as reported by his daughter.   I found a mention of his birth on an archival website, October 16, 1920.  He was 22 years old when he left for Australia and died at the age of 84.  Kenneth Gissonne flew 35 missions with one pilot, Al Putnam, and then went on to also fly missions out of the 63rd Group as well.

I thought about my own grandfather, who fought during World War One in France and my father who fought during the Korean War in Korea, and wondered what hardships they encountered, what experiences and memories traveled home with them.  

And yet, even now, during modern times, all the lives lost since 911, the sacrifices and struggles made by today’s military families, the men and women of our United States Armed Forces continue to protect our nation, our freedomsand our rights!   They make the same sacrifices today as those made decades ago and as they travel around the globe, they carry the same unwavering sense of duty andpatriotism!

The gold Kentucky Tavern Bourbon bottle will stay with me.  I have not been able to confirm when Mr. Gissonne received the gift.  Pure conjecture on my part, but I would think it was a special gift presented to him as a 50thAnniversary of his veteran service from WWII, which would mean he received it sometime in the early 1990’s.  

Over the years, I have purchased many things that included clippings or notes or dried flowers that instantly took me to another time.  These vintage and antique items that we all love to collect have a story!  They represent someone’s life, someone’s home, their taste in clothes or furniture or even liquor!  Or they may go one step further, and teach a lesson about history, brotherhood and duty!

Next time you see a memento from the past, pay homage to it, you never know what you might learn!  Past and present, I am forever humbled and grateful for the men and women of the United States Armed Forces!  Thank You!

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One Nation Under God -Veterans Day

By: Linda Burgess | 2012

Patriotism, as defined by Webster, means great love of one’s own country and loyalty to it. I learned that in my home, my school and in my church. I grew up in a home and family with a World War II veteran, my dad, and a Pearl Harbor survivor, my great uncle.  My father-in-law also served in World War II. My father-in-law also served in World War II. Several years after Dad’s death, I gained a Korean era veteran for a step-father. Yes, patriotism flourished in my home. 

Each school day began with prayer and THE Pledge of Allegiance. Pictures of patriots hung in our classrooms…George Washington and Abraham Lincoln. An American flag proudly hung from the center of the frame around the blackboard. One of the greatest honors was holding the flag while the entire class recited The Pledge. Chills still run up and down my spine as I recall those mornings in a small, rural school in western Kentucky. 

Vacation Bible school held similar places of honor as each day three people made the cut and proudly marched into the church carrying the Bible, the Christian flag or the American flag. On special occasions such as Veterans’ Day or Flag Day or Memorial Day we sang songs such as “God Bless America”, “America, the Beautiful”, or “America” after the church recited The Pledge of Allegiance. 

I often scratch my head as I wonder what happened to all of this. Why do we not see those patriots’ pictures in our classrooms? Why do school children not pledge their allegiance to our flag? Why do we not hear the stories our veterans have to share? Why do many churches not display our American and our Christian flags? The answers neither come TO me nor FROM me but the questions present themselves as fodder for thought. 

Dad never talked to me that much about his military experience. I know that he was an unbelievable marksman who declined the job of sniper. He could hit his target when shooting from the hip with a pistol. He never admitted to that being more than an accidental hit. I hunted with him on many outings where every shot brought home a bird, squirrel or rabbit. He didn’t believe in wasting ammunition. My granddad taught him that during the lean years of the Great Depression. He once ran across a plowed field, dropped to one knee and with one shot, took down a deer on the run. It was a clean shot right through the heart. I knew he never saw action once he arrived in Europe. He helped with clean up and police action. The peace agreement had been reached and signed while he was en route to France. Dad often talked of the beauty of the areas he saw, in spite of the destruction of war. He always wanted to visit Europe again but he never got that opportunity. Among other mementos of Dad, I proudly own one of his dog tags. Part of my tradition for Veterans’ Day is wearing his dog tag in honor of his service. I’m thankful he didn’t have to fight but equally thankful for his patriotic spirit that was willing to fight for our freedom and all the things that make our country great.

My great uncle rarely spoke of Pearl Harbor until after he retired. To some he was known as Doc. Others knew him as Pappy. To me he was Gussie Boy. Although Dad was the marksman, Gussie Boy taught me how to shoot. I had a brand new BB Daisy BB gun and couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn. I competed with my brothers (one older and one younger) that Christmas but spent more energy fussing because I couldn’t hit the target. Gussie Boy came to my rescue. He showed me how to use the sights properly and I became a regular Annie Oakley, a name my 21 year old nephew also used on me recently. Gus also gave me my first real gun but that’s another story for another time. During those years of my childhood I didn’t grasp the magnitude of Gus’ service. On Dec. 7, 1941, he would have just been 2 months beyond his 31st birthday. That explains the nickname Pappy. He served aboard the USS Tracey, docked in the harbor that fateful Sun morning. He told of how he stood ironing his dress whites as the attack ensued. He traded his iron for his weapon and, as the saying goes, the rest is history. Along with Dad’s dog tag, I have one of Gus’ that I also wear on Veterans’ Day. That is my way of remembering my two favorite veterans on a special day as well as honoring both the U.S. Army and the U.S. Navy. 

Though I didn’t have much time to really get to know my father-in-law, one of my favorite family photos hanging over my desk is one of him in his uniform. Three WW II veterans greatly influenced my life personally and my life in general. When I began teaching sixth grade, I found it very easy to incorporate a special unit wrapped in World War II information. People such as Bill Burgess, Gus Burgess and Jamie Reid preserved our freedom and set the wheels in motion for America to become the greatest nation on Earth. Although those three men were no longer available to visit with my classes, I found others who did. Perhaps my motives were, in part, selfish, but I felt the burning desire for stories to be shared with today’s young people. My generation seems to have dropped the ball with teaching patriotism, respect for our country and to the men and women who keep us free. 

One of my favorite visitors was a woman who served as a nurse during World War II. She came to my class each year for 12 years. She brought her nurse’s uniform and joked about it not fitting. She never failed to tell about going through basic training just the same as any other soldier. My students found it interesting that a nurse carried a rifle, crawled under barbed wire and tossed grenades. “Mert” never left U.S. soil. She served at the Greenbriar Hotel which was converted to a military hospital for a time. Her duties and specific training found her working the spinal cord injury ward. She always shared the story of a big, athletic young man determined to overcome his injuries and walk. With tears and quivering voice we learned that the day came to prove he could walk but the injury to his spinal cord was too great and he could not walk. Mert said she often wonders what happened to him after he left the hospital. These stories need to be preserved and retold. They are the stories of true American heroes.

My mother remarried many years after Dad’s untimely death -another great guy and a veteran. Clark served during the Korean Conflict. Again I was blessed to have a patriot in the family. I didn’t talk to Clark about his military time but he often spoke about friends he made when he and Ben’s grandmother lived on different Army posts and of how they “took in” young soldiers and their families as they tried to make life a little more like home. That’s just the kind of spirit that makes our nation strong. 

Seeing pictures of my fathers and my great uncle send chills up and down my spine. I get emotional when I hear “The Star Spangled Banner” (when sung properly and not so stylized you don’t recognize it) or when I see a squad of veterans bear the colors in the local Christmas parade. I love listening to John Philip Sousa marches and watching fireworks on the 4th of July. I step aside when uniformed service men/women walk in my direction. I feel the need to pull over and stop along the roadside when meeting a convoy of military vehicles. I still stop and watch as military helicopters pass over my head. I secretly hope they can see that I pause to honor them in my own way. I wish I could hear Dad talk about the beauty of Germany or ask Gus more questions about Pearl Harbor. I wish I could thank Jamie and Clark for their service. Since I can’t do that, I can, hopefully pass along my love for America and my sense of respect to those who serve in the armed forces. We ARE the greatest nation and I, for one, wouldn’t live anywhere else.

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