A Mission Gone Long. Part II

Transcription

1 A Mission Gone Long Part II On Saturday, March 22, 2003 all the pews in Our Lady Queen of Peace were full. A blustery west wind off Lake Superior blew a cold, intermittent drizzle up West Euclid Avenue. Benedícat vos omnípotens Deus, Pater, et Fílius, et Spíritus Sanctus. Amen, said the Congregation in unison. The priest turned to the casket, We beseech Thee, almighty God, that the soul of Thy servant Raymond Patulski may be cleansed by these sacrifices and be deemed worthy to win mercy and that he may be raised up in the glory of the resurrection and live among Thy saints and elect The Army Color Guard and City of Milwaukee police escort stood at attention outside the small church. Scott and Rayleen steadied their mother as she walked behind the casket leaving the church. Honorary pallbearers included Sal Novarra, John Caffery, and Si Spiegel, his yarmulke held in place with two small bobby pins. It was a short drive through the old neighborhood in South Milwaukee to Mount Olivet Cemetery on West Morgan Avenue and the long procession arrived there fifteen minutes later as the clock tower struck noon. They rounded the Soldier s Memorial where the large bronze eagle with its wings spread wide guards the approach, and flags of several service branches blew in the gusts. The hearse proceeded toward the gravesite followed by fifty cars. Next to the access road, in a separate large plot of land, a Tau Cross stood in front of the dark markers of the School Sisters of St. Francis, now just visible above the receding snow. Tau comes from the 19 th letter of the Greek alphabet and the last letter of the Hebrew alphabet. To the Sisters, it speaks of an ending, finality, forever, and is a mark of the faithful. This order of religious women was founded in Campbellsport, Wisconsin in 1874 by an energetic and pious group of women including Sister Clara Seiter. Sister Seiter, and two colleagues immigrated to America in 1873 from Schwarzach, Germany, a small town 40 miles east of Nϋrnberg near the Czech border, where they ministered to young children in an orphanage. The Sisters saw their new mission in America as educating the children of poor German immigrants struggling in their adopted country. By 1887, the order had grown substantially and moved

2 its Motherhouse, St. Joseph Convent, to Milwaukee. Mount Olivet is one of the largest cemeteries interring Sisters of this order. Their small markers are wholly unpretentious, and speak of their humility, sacrifice, and piety. On this day, and in this company, where row after row of short granite stones sit in perfect alignment, each with a Sister s single name carved on it, Ray Patulski would rest for eternity. Military firearms saluted their rounds and as the echo of their report faded, the sound of taps wailed from a distant place unseen by the silent mourners. Overhead, an F-16 from the Wisconsin Air National Guard 115th Fighter Wing out of Madison, flew nose high, nearly at stall speed. Above the cemetery, the pilot hit the afterburner, put the plane into a vertical climb and accelerated through the clouds toward Heaven. The flag on the casket was folded carefully into a triangle and presented- blue field of stars up- to Patulsji s wife. Ceremony over, people milled about for a few moments before seeking the warmth of a car. Grace, I m so sorry. Ray and I had plans to go back to Poland this summer. I know, Si, He was looking forward to the trip too. Even bought a few Polish language CD s in the hope he could help find the crash site. It s all so sudden. She looked away toward the bronze casket still mounted on its support stays, her thoughts well hidden behind her veil, and took a deep breath. Will you and JoAnn join us back at the house for a while? Sure, thanks, but only for a short time. Our flight leaves at 5:45 tonight. Scott, walk over to Mr. Novarra and Mr. Caffery and invite them home too, please. The three WWII Air Corps veterans stood in front of the upright piano and stared at the yellow photograph, at their youth and at each other: Nine men in their late teens and early twenties, five standing, four kneeling in a classic pose in front of the Liberator s number three engine. Swords, a long dagger, a carbine and a pair of wooden shoes, all souvenirs of the long mission- displayed for posterity. Standing on the far right is Spiegel. The American flag is prominent on the left shoulder of his leather A-2 flight jacket. He leans slightly into the

3 photograph so his face is aligned just above a kneeling Sam Novarra. There is a smile of satisfaction on Spiegel s mouth. Hatless, his dark hair is combed perfectly and parted on the left. Next to Spiegel stands John Caffery, squinting in the sunlight, his arms at his side- in an informal attention. Caffery is the mission flight engineer, an Irish kid from New Jersey who often got razzed because he looked a lot like William Holden. Novarra, from the Windy City, smiles warmly and holds a German sword given to Spiegel by a Russian infantry officer. A dagger hanging crossways from his belt lies on his thigh. He looks happy- in the company of good pals- out of danger. Patulski, second from the left, standing straight and tall, his left thumb hooked in his pant pocket, has a wry smile under a long straight nose. His officer s cap is tilted slightly to his right, but the brim does not completely shade eyes that stare directly into the lens. In his face you see determination, confidence, satisfaction. This father of a son and daughter, and the oldest of two brothers and a sister, was born and raised in post-wwi, and depression-era, Milwaukee. The anti-germanism of WWI gradually gave way as the number of wage earners dropped from 118,000 in 1929 to 66,000 in The so-called Milwaukee miracle had ended. After graduating from high school he pursued a trade as a wood pattern maker, but at age 19, one year after Pearl Harbor was bombed, he walked into the Army Air Corps enlistment center in downtown Milwaukee and enrolled in the United States Army Air Corps where his serious nature and his keen sense of direction and terrain led him to navigation school. He met Spiegel at Hobbs Army Air Force Base, New Mexico (now Lee County Regional Airport) where the new crew was united with its new B-17. They hit it off right away, each respecting the capabilities of the other and knowing instinctively they could rely on each other to do right by any situation that might arise. When the war ended, Patulski returned to the city of his birth and family. His military background and his easy way with people made him a natural for a long career as a Milwaukee policeman. In retirement, he reconnected with his crewmates and occasionally attended reunions of the 490 th Bomber Group and subscribed to its quarterly publication, Bombs Away! which announced the passing of John Caffery and Maurice Carpenter in its fall 2008 volume.

4 THE CREW OF # GIDDY 490 TH BOMB GROUP MARCH 1945 Standing, from left: Radioman, T/Sgt Maurice Carpenter; Navigator, 2 nd Lt. Raymond Patulski; Co-Pilot, 1 st Lt. William Hole; Engineer, T/Sgt John Caffrey; Pilot, 1 st Lt. Si Spiegel. Kneeling, from left: Tail Gunner, S/Sgt Dale Tyler; Toggilier (Bombardier), S/Sgt Charles Sandusky; Ball Gunner, S/Sgt Frank Stockton; Waist Gunner, S/Sgt Sal Novarra.

5 Spiegel turned to meet the gaze of Scott Patulski. I m sorry Scott, I liked your father quite a bit. Did you know we were planning a trip to Poland this summer to see if we could find the old crash site? Yes, Si, he told us all. He was really looking forward to that trip, and the reunion next fall. Once in a while, we d sit around the table- over there in the kitchen- and he d tell us the whole story from start to finish. It s a one-of-a-kind tale, that s for sure. You know, said Spiegel, we might not have made it without Ray. We flew the return pretty blind, and with no communication codes. Most of the return flight to Allied territory was flown in weather, over Axis territory, using Russian maps! It s a wonder we weren t discovered and shot down by allied escorts- let alone our own boys- while we flew back. Ray was one helluva navigator. I don t know if he ever got proper recognition. The Patulski house was full of friends. On a nearby sideboard there was a large crock-pot brimming with bigos, and plates of pierogis, chlopski posilek, and kopytka and placki kartoflane. Scott s mother moved slowly between small groups of mourners encouraging them to eat and not to worry about her: She would be well taken care of by her son and daughter. She broke away from a small group of older women and ambled over to Spiegel. Si, JoAnn she said, your car is outside. Rayleen is getting both your coats. Spiegel turned to Novarra and Caffery. Their eyes were filled with water as they met, then averted, then met again. They had known each other for more than 58 years. We ll meet again, don t know where, don t know when could have been playing in the background. Caffery smiled and extended his hand, but before Spiegel could shake it, Novarra grabbed them both in a bear hug. See you guys this fall, he said, turning away, shoulders shaking slightly.

6 Spiegel turned to Scott and his mother. Grace if I can help in any way. Thanks, Si. I ll be fine. Don t be a stranger. We d love to see you again. As he turned to leave, Spiegel stopped and looked again at Scott. Scott, would you and Rayleen come with us this summer? You know the whole story; you should see the place, meet the people. Grace, you too. Get away for a few weeks. I don t know, said Scott, let us think about it, right Mom, and get back to you. OK? I don t know if I can take the time off. I can give you a few weeks, maybe a month, said Spiegel. Then I ve got to firm up the plans. This story is based on true events, many recalled by Mr. Spiegel. Historical research and interpretations by the author have filled in some of the blanks. The rest of the story will follow in time. Jim Wood Boston, MA January 2009