A WWII Hero Dies

I am re-posting this story today, for John Walter Wyman passed away last Thursday. He was a truly loved man by not only his family but by the community as well. We drove the four hours to Rumford, Maine to attend his services that were held on June 20th. Thank you for your gallant and brave service. Rest In Peace.

John was an easy going man, a true hero from WWII.  He raised his four children not by lecturing, but by only two rules, "I won't take you to the hospital, and I won't bail you out of jail."  Another words, stay out of trouble.  He and his wife Rita would have been celebrating 70 years of marriage on July 7th.

John W. Wyman was a gunner in the World War II airplane in this photo.  Squadrons were assigned to fly a maximum of 25 missions over Germany, after which they would be replaced by new forces.  Few made mission 25, but John's squadron did, only to be told that they would need to fly one or two more because their replacements had not yet arrived.  Mission 26 was a success, but on mission 27 they took fire and the pilot was shot and killed.  Their options were few: parachute out or go down with the plane.  John scrambled up into the fuselage of the craft from his perch suspended in its underbelly.  As they looked out the windows, they saw others from their squadron who had jumped, their chutes being riddled with holes as they were fired upon as target practice. The choice quickly became clear when the co-pilot of John's plane said he believed he could land the craft on its belly, so the crew opted for riding it down, which they did safely and quickly abandoned it on foreign soil.  Years later, this photo of the downed aircraft was sent to John's family by someone from Germany.  The family put his photo on it and the words to the rally song "Wild Blue Yonder".

John's plane was shot down and he was taken prisoner. 

 He was moved from one camp to another during one of the worst snowstorms in history known as the "Black March".  Many died but John survived with only a blanket.

From Wikipedia:

The March" refers to a series of forced marches during the final stages of the Second World War in Europe. From a total of 257,000 western Allied prisoners of war held in German military prison camps, over 80,000 POWs were forced to march westward across Poland, Czechoslovakia, and Germany in extreme winter conditions, over about four months between January and April 1945. This series of events has been called various names: "The Great March West", "The Long March", "The Long Walk", "The Long Trek", "The Black March", "The Bread March", and "Death March Across Germany", but most survivors just called it "The March".

Yoo-Hoo Dinner Is Ready

My Nannie's Potholders

My dad always received his vacation the first two weeks of July.  There was always so much excitement as my mother packed our suitcases to hit the road down the old US route 1 highway heading toward my maternal grandparents who lived in Rockledge, Florida. 

The drive was filled with anticipation and lots of questions such as "Where are we now"?  We always drove straight through. Mom always packed a cooler with sandwiches, drinks and snacks to eat.  Dad only stopped when he needed gas or the very important potty stop, lots of those with four kids in the car. My three sisters and I in the back seat did all sorts of contortions to find a comfortable place to sleep, i.e. legs on top of each other and even one of us ended up on the floor sleeping.  No seat belts back then.

Of course when we got close to our destination we recognized the familiar sights we have seen so many times before and soon we would be at my grandparents home, where we knew fun and spoil city lived.

I remember my grandmother Florence, whom we called Nannie. She always served ice tea at lunchtime with cold cuts to make sandwiches and slices of cantaloupe and other good stuff to enjoy. It was very hot there in July so cold food for lunch was always an enjoyable meal. We sat at a table in a very large dinning room that was once utilized as a restaurant. She was a very good cook and at one time had many faithful customers, especially truck drivers hauling their goods down route 1 known as the Old Dixie Highway.

Dinnertime we enjoyed good old southern fried meals cooked in a hot kitchen with potholders and dishtowels hanging nearby. Whether it was steak with gravy and peas or chicken and gravy and always lots of mashed potatoes with corn on the cob with ice-cold juicy watermelon for dessert. Always delicious and fun to all be together.

Our Nannie made her own potholders and if you look closely you can see the fruit and flowers that she cut out and applied, and then crocheted around each item and around the eyes and mouth of the faces she so carefully made.  It's fun to look at them and remember her.

Rocky Water Park

Postcard of Rocky Water Park.

 Built abt 1923 by my great grandfather, Emond Lewis Sterling, located on Pineapple Ave., Eau Gallie, Florida.

Sullivan and O'Brien - I Wear The Green

Dennis Sullivan and Hannah O’Brien were from Cork, Ireland. They married in 1838 and a year later their first child was born, Catherine, called Kate was born.  It's possible they left Ireland because of the oncoming Potato Famine and sailed to St John’s New Brunswick abt. 1840. Their 2nd child, Anna arrived in 1842.  They came to America shortly thereafter.  Their 3^rd child, Mary Anna was born 10 1844 in New Bedford, Massachusetts.  She married when she was 15 years old to Calvin Horr who died serving in the Civil War. Then came John in 1847, he became a policeman in New Bedford, and he served in the Civil War.  He died of a stroke at the age of 54. And then their last child, my 2nd great grandmother, Ellen "Nellie" born in Freetown, Massachusetts in 1858.

Dennis and Hannah lived in Lakeville. I went to the Lakeville town hall and got copies of their death certificate.  Hannah died before her husband on July 31, 1897. Cause of death, old age, she was 80.  Interesting is that it also listed her parents, Timothy O'Brien and Hannah Sullivan. Dennis died two years later on March 20, 1900 in Middleboro. Cause of death, Artery's Sclerosis at age 96. His parents were not listed, but since have discovered his parents were Philip Sullivan and Jane Moore.

They practiced the Catholic religion and chose St Mary's Catholic Church Cemetery in New Bedford, Massachusetts just off route 140 for their final resting place.

A Special Necklace

This necklace is designed with three strands each braided a little different.  In the center is a seabean that was found washed up on the Florida beach that had made its' way from the Bahama's.  It was polished and attached to the strands with a decorative 18K gold clasp. 

Her hair was the color of chestnuts.  She kept it long and wore it braided and wrapped over her head. It belonged to my great grandmother, Elsie Lovina Eldrige Sterling and this necklace was made from her hair.  I called her gram and I loved her dearly.  She passed away when I was a senior in high school.

In 2022 I passed this special necklace on to my daughter, Kimberly.

Gram

Friend to King Philip

Cole's River in Swansea, MA is named after my 8th great grandfather, Hugh Cole. Hugh was a friend of King Philip. During the King Philip's War, two of his sons were captured. King Philip released his friends sons. However, the chief warned his friend that he could no longer control his warriors and told Hugh to leave his home and set sail for Rhode Island. He did as he was told and as he was sailing away watched his house burn to the ground. 

http://youtu.be/seVE1zM60m8  Link to Cole's River.

Hugh and his wife, Mary Foxwell are buried in Tyler Point Cemetery Barrington, Bristol, Rhode Island.

I descend as follows:

Hugh Cole (1627 - 1699)

is my 8th great grandfather

John Cole (1660 - 1724)

Son of Hugh

Mary Cole (1697 - 1759)

Daughter of John

Mary Wright (1726 - 1804)

Daughter of Mary

Mary Tomson (1757 - 1846)

Daughter of Mary

Erastus Hayward (1790 - 1844)

Son of Mary

Eunice Soule Hayward (1829 - 1911)

Daughter of Erastus

Laura Eunice Jones (1864 - 1943)

Daughter of Eunice Soule

Malcolm LeRoy Smith (1898 - 1953)

Son of Laura Eunice

Robert Franklin Smith (1923 - 2008)

Son of Malcolm LeRoy

Kathryn Marie Smith

The Funeral That Wasn't for Baby Cindy

It's Memorial Day and we made the rounds to place flowers upon our family members graves. Pink flowers, always pink, for a special little girl.  It's hard to believe that it will be 44 years this August 14th.  This is the story of my personal loss.

I was told to admit myself into the hospital, my baby would not survive, chromosome defect, and my 

life was in danger.

We lost our little girl when I was 8 months pregnant. During this sad time you listen to what you are told and I was told not to have a funeral, not to name her. This is why she has no name on her stone. But I wanted people to know whose child she was so we put our names upon her stone.

The fact of the matter was we had already chosen a name for her, Lucinda. I wish we had scribed her name upon the stone. We were going to call her Cindy. She is buried with her grandparents, Cecil and Shirley Lockhard, in Pine hill Cemetery, West Bridgewater, Ma, so she is not alone. 

I watched out the window of my hospital room and saw the black car arrive to take my baby away.  I felt some comfort knowing that a friend from my high school class working in the family business would gently care for her.  Cindy was laid to rest in her father's white christening gown while I was still in the hospital.  There was no service for my little Cindy, and I was afraid to have more children.

I went home to my other two children, but this did not ease my pain, I felt empty.  A cousin stopped by to visit.  She was from out-of-state and she had a newborn baby that I asked to hold.  I broke down and cried for the first time as I cuddled her baby.

A few days later I told my husband I was ready to go to the cemetery.  Not able to afford to buy flowers at that time, I picked flowers from my garden and we headed out to the cemetery.  My husband told me her casket was white, as I looked upon the outline of where she was laid to rest.  I presented my small bouquet and then told my husband I wanted another baby as I cried in his arms.

About To Take Flight

Thanks to Find a grave, I have a picture of my 2nd great grandparents, Philip and Helen Roesch's, gravestone.  I don't know what I expected, if anything.  I don't think it ever occurred to me to look for it because they were laid to rest in British Hollow Cemetery located in Rockville, Grant County, Wisconsin.   

 I was thrilled to see this beautiful stone with such amazing detail.  What excited me most were the feathered wings. How special that they would choose to carry their German heritage to their grave. 

These are the wings of an eagle and prominently displayed at the top of the stone.  The wings are elevated and the wing tips are facing up indicating that they are about to take flight into heaven.

Westward Passage

Mathias Roesch sailed from Baden, Germany with his family, arriving at Castle Garden in New York on May 26, 1857 after 46 days days at sea..  This was the journey they took by train to reach Potosi, Wisconsin where they lived and farmed.  (Ellis Island should read Castle Garden on the map)

Quadruple Tragedy - So Sorry Lulu

Earl and Lulu

Lulu Mary Beebe was born December 6, 1898.  She was the daughter of Alfred Royal Beebe, brother to my 3rd great grandmother.  On August 8, 1917 she married Earl Marshall Taylor and began their family.  I have nine children listed but they might have had as many as 12 children.

The youngest children were Alfred Ernest, born January 11, 1934 and Oliver Royal, known as Ollie, born on March 20, 1935.  The family lived in Muskegon, Michigan.

Lulu's husband died on April 4, 1935 at the age of 39 when Alfred was 15 months old, and Lulu was eight months pregnant with Ollie. 

Fourteen years later, 1935, triple tragedy strikes Lulu and her family.  Ollie dies on August 11, 1949 of polio.  Her mother-in-law Jennie dies on November 10, 1949, and then her son, Albert died of polio on November 30, 1949.

Alfred



Oliver