The first house I ever bought was the typical, sweat-equity special:
Low on charm but high on potential. The first day I owned the house, I
tore out old cabinets and found rations booklets dating back to World
War II. I never understood those rations booklets until I met my wife
and her grandparents.
World War II was all about sacrifice.
Professional sports slowed while collegiate and prep sports in some
instances stopped, as they did in 1943 when the Michigan High School
Athletic Association (MHSAA) shelved the boys' basketball tournament.
The Chicago Cubs missed the first era of lights by 45 years when the
Wrigley family donated their lighting material purchase to the
war effort. Bomb shelters and draft boards were the order of the day
and life went on with heavy hearts and responsibilities alike.
Detroit shed her Motor City moniker and instead became the Arsenal of
Democracy.
I never really knew my wife's grandfather, Bill R.
Whitesell, besides the handful of times we shared a few words. That's
Whitesell in the picture to the right, receiving a rank and pay grade
increase in an official United States Air Force photo taken at
Tachikawa Air Base. Whitesell passed on this morning in Monroe,
Michigan at 86 years of age. Naturally Debbie's side of the family knew
him best as Grampa. I've witnessed this grief already. My parents,
grandparents and siblings have either passed on or moved on from any
further contact.
Bill Whitesell was born in Tulsa, Oklahoma in
1922. By the time Adolph Hitler's German Nazi military machine was
beginning to dominate and desecrate Europe in 1940, Whitesell -- like
so many other strapping American boys -- was enlisting. There's a
reason this era of young Americans is called America's Greatest
Generation and this is one of those defining characteristics; Uncle Sam
didn't have to ask twice. Whitesell joined the Army Air Corps but earned
wings in the Navy Air Corps, too -- a dual designation that is
rarely witnessed in modern times.
Through WW II, the Korean War
and Vietnam, too, if it had two wings, an engine and a prop, Whitesell
could lift it into the sky and push it in and out of clouds. He motored
the famously amphibious PYR-5's in the Pacific Theater; hauled the mail
in C-130's; flew both the light B-25's and heavy B-52's from Willow Run
and whistled through the wind in P-38's and C-47 Gooneybirds, too.
Whitesell was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross and the Air Force
Commendation Medal.
He ascended to his final rank of Lieutenant
Colonel in 1965 while
flying AC-119's -- better known as 'Flying Boxcars' -- over the
darkened
skies of Vietnam at nearly 50 years of age. His call sign was "Shadow
Zero-Niner", a fact recalled more than a few times as his family
remembered his life and times this morning. His wife, Jacqueline,
recalled the many men he saved, including 125 he discovered in a cave
on a single flight. Whitesell also lived with a heavy heart for the
kills he made during his combat duties. Glory is brilliant. Grief is
messy. The fighting men and women of America live with this burden long
after the bands stop playing and the parades end.
Yet the most amazing feat might have been obscured save for an
innocuous comment made in passing. Whitesell moved his family an
astounding 48 times and managed to keep his marriage in tact for 66
years, right up until his morning passing.
Maybe that accomplishment, in light of today's throw-away society
mentality, deserves the most credit. Sitting around the table listening
to the war stories was a stoic reminder of the sacrifices so many of us
have never been asked to partake in. We enjoy the daily fruits of a
country Whitesell's generation risked their lives for several times
over. It almost makes you vengeful of corporate America's numerous
irresponsibilities we will be forced to bear the brunt of in the coming
years. That we continue to destroy the good life that was handed to us
without a second thought is sickening.
Bill Whitesell will get a
military burial and a 21-gun salute, but it won't be on CNN. He didn't
earn his 15 minutes of fame as 'Joe The Plumber'. He was the unassuming
war veteran. He was a husband, a father and grandfather many times
over. He was an air cadet, a pilot. He was "Shadow-Zero-Niner".
Bill
Whitesell embodied what being an American used to be all about.
Sacrifice for the greater good, even if that greater good meant the
ultimate sacrifice. It's a lesson we can all sacrifice a few minutes
for.
(Official USAF photo courtesy Whitesell family collection)
