This Day 82 Years Ago: Finding a Lost Friend
Eighty-two years ago, hours before the troops hit the Normandy beaches, a young life was lost in the sky above the English Channel. He was not the only one who died that night, but in the particulars, I believe we can learn and understand the larger issues. The impact of the loss of life on a personal scale conveys a more authentic sadness than the mass casualty lists or faceless deaths that sadly we still hear of today.
He was my father’s comrade-in-arms and a friend. Through my dad’s stories of his journey from a high school “dumb jock’ to a paratrooper with the 101st, I came to know of quite a few remarkable and not-so-remarkable people. Most of them were his friends; some of them became mine too.
Jim, Bernie, Sam, Ray, Niels, Bill, and Bev were a few of the names most often mentioned by my dad. I have stories on all of them. Some, I actually met and others were conveyed to me with such affection that I felt them to be my friends too. One, in particular, was lost when his C-47 transport went down in flames before he could jump. He had a slightly different name - Beverly Manlove. He was a sergeant and my dad, a private, thought the world of him. In a previous blog post, I shared my sorrow when I read Bev’s name on a list of soldiers who were killed-in-action (KIA). My dad never shared this all-important detail with me. When I saw his name on the honor roll of the dead, I wept for Beverly and my father who died of natural causes after a long life.
A few weeks ago, a gentleman named Artur sent me an unexpected note after coming across my blog. He was doing some research and was kind enough to share this connection.
I found your blog post mentioning your father's friendship with Beverly Manlove who was KIA on D-Day. Last year, while working for the National Park Service, I found several carvings left behind on stone buildings from when Beverly was a child. If it's of any interest to you, here is a post that I wrote up on my blog: https://storiesthroughkeepsakes.com/secrets-in-stone-a-d-day-heros-legacy-at-1860s-fort-larned/
Please take a minute to visit his blog to learn a bit more about Bev along with other stories from our shared history.
Apparently, Bev lived in close proximity to Ft. Larned, Kansas. When the war broke out, he decided to enlist at Ft. Riley, also in Kansas, and was one of the highly esteemed Toccoa boys, a “plank owner” of the 101st Airborne. The sergeants that grew out of that original group of Screaming Eagles were special. They may have been the best NCOs the Army ever produced. My dad pretty much liked everyone, but he truly esteemed those men who he felt were examples to him. He also loved to say that it was not a man’s wealth or achievements, but the class or grace with which he carried himself that was a mark of greatness. Bev (and I am sure he was not perfect) was that to my dad. That carries a lot of weight for me and anyone else who knew my father. The remains of this good sergeant were lost to the sea and eventually the government’s finding was that he was killed-in-action. He was posthumously awarded the Bronze Star and Purple Heart. His name is memorialized at the Normandy American Cemetery in Collevile-sur-Mer, Departement du Calvados, Basse-Normandie, France.
It just so happens that we now live a few hours from Ft. Larned. This summer, my family and I will make a pilgrimage to see the carvings that young Beverly left behind. It will be our little way of honoring him and his friendship with us through my father. As a Catholic, I see life as incarnational and “matter” matters. To see something in concrete (literally) left behind by a dear friend will be a moment of connection and esteem; solace and sorrow.
Please take a minute to look at the image of Sgt. Beverly Manlove’s handsome face. In it, you will see the price that is paid by violence and war. It is a price that can never be calculated or measured, and one should ask if the loss of such a life was worth it. I leave that to you.