We’ve received a full action report from the Army on Bud’s final mission. It has lots of technical details and provides us with a nice logistical view of the events. 

But my favorite account was found last night at Anna’s, by my daughter Caty who was just looking through a random box of photos. It is a letter from Major Thomas Shea, the Group Chaplain at Port Moresby, who knew Bud well. From the entries in Bud’s diary, I knew that he had met Fr. Shea and attended Mass regulary, but in my imagination, I pictured Fr. Shea having an affection for Bud. This letter brings that vision a little closer to reality.  And again moves me a little closer to knowing him. 

<sappy alert>

On August 1st Angela Carella from the Stamford Advocate visited my mom’s home to talk to me about Bud and what his return meant to our family. We spent most of that time talking about Anna and how she must have been dealing with this event. The thing is, I don’t really know how she was dealing with it.   As her health declined over the past few weeks and she was unable to communicate, I just kept trying to reassure her that we would take good care of him and I’d drop little details about the funeral and how incredibly respectful the Army has been, etc., not really sure whether she wanted to know them or not. 

On Sunday, August 6th Bud’s story was told in the Advocate, as well as his updated obituary. Here’s a link to each:

Article: http://m.stamfordadvocate.com/news/article/WWII-airman-returns-for-Stamford-burial-74-years-11735722.php

Obituary: http://m.legacy.com/obituaries/stamfordadvocate/obituary.aspx?n=patrick-byrnes&pid=186295199&referrer=0&preview=True

I heard a quote recently that said we all die twice. The first time when our heart stops beating, and the second time when our name is spoken for the last time. Thanks to the Army, Bud’s name will be spoken so many more times, and future generations will speak his name. 

And then, on the same day as her brother gets to keep living, the darndest thing happened:

Anna’s heart stopped beating. 

I will never know if this was the “closure” she was waiting for, or if she could finally be “at peace”. I just know that she died, and I’m heartbroken. 

And I’m not even done telling his story yet, which only had a 23-year span.  But now I feel a strong need to tell her story as well, an amazing 99-year one, to be sure. And I will, and my kids will, and her nieces and nephews will…so that she never dies again. 

Bud’s diary begins on Monday, June 28 when he left for active duty overseas from Hamilton Field in San Francisco. Bud was clearly proud of being an airman. On June 29 he wrote: 

Landed here at Hickam Field on the island of Oahu at 7:30 am island time. Cox’s Army came through the flight in fine style. 

I flew celestial all the way and came in on the money thus far my first celestial flight. 

Throughout the diary Bud mentions several names as a part of “Cox’s Army”.  We’ve learned a bit more about these friends:

• Cox: William B. Cox, 2nd Lt – also recovered
• Evans: Fred L. Evans, Flight Officer
• Verhein: Fred H. Verhein, 2nd Lt – also recovered

It’s my hope that I can make contact with some of these families in the future

The crew spent about 10 days in Hawaii and got to enjoy some swimming in Waikiki and even rented surfboards! He says they took pictures on the beach. Boy, would I love to see those!  Guess what?  The next day he was terribly sunburned!  Now I know I’m related!   Also in Hawaii Bud did some shopping for his family. He sent home a table set for Mama, pocketbooks for Anna, Betty and Rita, a pipe for Papa and a Hawaiian shirt for my dad, Billy. He also mentions sending home a play suit for little Jimmy Clarke – not sure who that is!

On July 13 they left for Canton Island, which he describes as “nothing more than a coral reef.  It has one tree, a palm tree it being the only vegetation on the whole island. ” A few days later they flew to Brisbane, and finally on July 27 they flew to Port Moresby, Papua New Guinea, and were assigned to the 43rd Group and 403rd squadron. 

Bud’s first combat mission was on Friday, July 30th, 1943. 

On August 2, Bud met someone named Wills from Stamford. According to Bud he is “Margaret Sweeney’s husband.”  They had a good chat about the fellows they both knew from home. 

August 3 – 2nd bombing mission (4 hours 30 minutes)

August 13 – 3rd bombing mission (3 hours 30 minutes)

August 15 – 4th bombing mission (10 hours 42 minutes)

August 17 – 5th bombing mission (7 hours, 42 minutes). The top turret of their plane was shot out. 

August 21 – 6th bombing mission (terrible conditions. 

August 25 – 7th mission 

On August 29, some of the squadron went out, but not Bud’s plane. 

And then the next day…

And that would be the last entry. 

There are still lots of things to share, but today we finalized some details about the funeral, so I thought I’d post them here.

Date: Saturday, August 19

Time: 10:30 am

Church: Basilica of St John the Evangelist, 279 Atlantic Street, Stamford, CT

http://stjohnsstamford.com

(Something cool about St. John’s…if you cannot attend the funeral, but would still like to watch it you can click on the live webcam from the website above.)

Internment with full military honors immediately following at Queen of Peace Cemetery, 124 Rock Rimmon Rd., Stamford.

While this is a funeral, we will be celebrating the commitment that Bud made to his country, and the commitment that the Army has made to reuniting these soldiers with their families.  We have chosen to wear red, white and blue, rather than black, and invite attendees to do so as well.

As so many did, Bud registered for the draft in July of 1941. 

Five months after Pearl Harbor Bud enlisted as an aviation cadet. He earned his wings a year later at Honda Army Air in Texas field on March 11, 1943.

Wow, people of that generation were serious letter writers!  My hope is that I continue to find more, but here is one that I know our Mahan cousins will appreciate. The Jackie that is referred to here is Bud’s cousin Jack Mahan, who was at the seminary in Middletown at the time. I’m wondering if this was a routine visit, or if there was some ocaission at the seminary.  (Any Mahan cousins have an idea?). From all accounts, Bud, Anna and Jackie were close cousins.  There are several other names in this letter that I’m researching, but I know that the Toners were also close friends with the Byrnes family.  (Look for the name Richard Toner in a future post.). Anyone know the other names?  Mike could be Mike Walsh, and Ned might be Ned Byrnes, a cousin on the Byrnes side.

If Bud had come home at the end of the war there would have been lots of celebration and rejoicing.  Food, drink, laughing, dancing, (and possibly some God-awful singing, too!), but most certainly, cake.  Mama’s cake. 

Instead the Western Union messenger came.  And there was no celebration or rejoicing.  And no cake.

So today, after we sit down with our Army representative to get a report on Bud’s deaths and make arrangements for getting him home soon and his funeral, there will be cake.  Her cake…for her boy.

Bud began work at American Cyanamid on the west side of Stamford soon after graduation.  He followed his father Patrick who worked as a lab technician and one of the first employees of the Stamford plant.  Bud worked in the Paper Chemical area of the plant and apparently made many friends there.  The photo below was taken as part of a series of press photos.  Here Bud can be seen tending a fiber-beater machine.  Apparently the purpose of this machine is to break down the pulp into individual fibers and to sift out any materials that are not suitable for paper-making.  I guess I’m curious about whether he enjoyed this job or not.  Did he ever want to go to college?  Was the thought that he would save for school and then go when he could scrape together enough money?  So many hopes and dreams were sacrificed in that war so that the rest of us could live ours.  What a debt we owe.

With the start of World War II, Bud enlisted.  In his papers I found two recommendation letters.  The first is below, from the pastor at St. John’s Church.

The second is from American Cyanamid and is too delicate to photograph well.  W.H. Harding of the Technical Services Division writes on January 21, 1942:

[Mr.  Byrnes] is a steady young man of very good habits, capable and reliable in every way.  He gets along well with his associates and knows how to think for himself.  I believe that he is the type of young man who will be able to adept himself to the necessary conditions of Army life and serve extremely well in any capacity for which his training may fit him. 

We are very sorry to lose Mr. Byrnes from the staff of our Paper Chemicals Laboratory, but under the circumstances wish to urge your acceptance of his application.

“Under the circumstances…”

War was here, and the boys were needed.

The Byrnes kids all attended St. John’s Parochial School.  Bud attended St. Basil’s Seminary at the corner of Hope St. and Glenbrook Road, and according to Anna would attend Mass almost every morning at St. Maurice’s before school. According to the notice of his death in the Stamford Advocate, Bud excelled at basketball. Given that his father Patrick was at least 6’6″, I imagine Bud was probably extremely tall, which helped on the court, I’m sure! I found a very small photo of him – the resolution isn’t stellar (I’m working on it!), but look at those long Byrnes legs, and that head of hair!

Bud also played on the school baseball team.  He is seated, second from the right.  I’d love to know the names of some of these other guys!  The Army returned Bud’s address book to the family when he died.  As I look through it I’m sure some of these fellows are probably in this picture. 

He graduated in 1937.

After high school Bud went to work at American Cyanamide with his father. More on that tomorrow!

Patrick was born at home on November 13, 1919 to Patrick, Sr. and Elizabeth (Molloy) Byrnes. He would be the second of five children: Anna, Bud, Betty (Bennett), Rita (Hughes) and my dad, William. 

This photo is from Rita’s wedding to Joseph Hughes. 

From all I’ve heard, it seems as though it was a happy family. The family moved several times within Stamford – Brown St., Division St., Clinton Ave. and Wenzel  Terrace. Papa (Patrick, Sr.) was a gardener extrodinaire and was employed by American Cyanamide in Stamford. I’m still hoping that green thumb kick in with me!  From the stories I’ve heard he sounded like a real Irish character!  I bet my cousin Pat Hughes could chime in here with a few examples. He passed away in 1960 so I never got to know him, unfortunately. 

On the other hand Mama, as we called her, was a big part of my life until I was 12, and for my brother and cousins, even longer. We were lucky enough to visit her and Anna every Sunday for dinner and it was always “an occasion.” Mama was always sitting in her chair in the den when we’d arrive. It was a kiss on the cheek and a squeeze, then off to play somewhere in the house. What a cook!  Besides the amazing dinner, there was almost always a chocolate cake. Not just any chocolate cake, but THE cake. I can’t really describe it other than to say that you need about a half gallon of milk in order to truly enjoy it. It’s time for me to attempt making it again. 

Being only 18 months apart, Anna and Bud we’re sure to have spent a lot of time together. Here she looks much happier about that than he does…

There are two stories Anna has told us about Bud. In the picture above Anna is holding a doll. Like siblings do at times, Bud used to give his big sister a hard time. He would hide it from Anna and she would beg him to give it back. On one occasion they had a terrible argument. Bud put it under the living room rug and then jumped on it – smashing the head to pieces. I don’t imagine that Bud got off easy for that one!

The second thing that Anna told us was that any time Anna would be “courted” by a boy, Bud always would find a little something that was wrong with the poor fellow. Anna says that even years later she would think to herself, “He’s okay, but Bud wouldn’t like him.” It certainly may not be the main reason she never married, but it was an interesting tidbit. 

Knowing how much my grandmother and aunts and uncles like a good party, I imagine this family working hard, but playing better. There were cousins in Stamford as well – the Mahan family- as well as friends: The Hanrahans, the Toners and others. When I look back at pictures of the wedding receptions that were held in the backyard, or the pictures of the Christmas tables set for an army of people, I know it doesn’t tell the whole story, but it gives me a glimpse into the love that this family shared for one another and what bolsters us when we need it. Grateful. 

Whether it’s generational (the greatest generation), or cultural (stoic Irish), the loss of Bud was just never discussed.  In the past weeks I have found incredible treasures (settle down – not monetary!) that I can’t believe I am only seeing for the first time.  And there’s no one that I’d like to talk with more than my dad, who was only 11 at the time.  Even nine years ago when Bud’s DNA was requested by the Army, there wasn’t much discussion, but I knew my dad was quietly excited. (As my brother said at our father’s funeral, “A river of emotion always flowing right under the surface). When we heard back that there was no match, that vault closed again and I assumed it was closed for good.

Amazingly, the eldest Byrnes of those siblings is still with us.  At the age of 99, Anna is also a vault on this topic.  When we told her of Bud’s discovery and imminent return home, she was quiet.  And then she bawled…like I have never known anyone in that family to do   Probably the way no one has since 1943.   On another occasion I brought it up again, and I got the same response, and so I resolved not to talk about it any more with her.  But before I left her that day, she pointed me to a place where I would find a letter.  I’ll share that letter soon, but it started my journey of getting to know my uncle, and I’m so grateful. 

In one of his diary entries from his time in New Guinea (yup, I found that too) there is a poem.  It’s the only one like it in the whole book.  The tone is both melancholy and sarcastic. Bud talks about being “on loan to Uncle Sam” and wondering whether anyone even remembers the guys who are gone.  For whatever reason, and I imagine it’s just because of the overwhelming grief, Bud was a far-off relative who we’d never get to know, and to be honest, wasn’t really remembered. Not anymore.  Now I spend a good part of my day thinking of him.   I’ll try to start with what I know about his life in Stamford – his family, faith, school and work, and then move to the military part. Because this week we’ll be visited by our Army rep and I want to know so much more about his guy than how he left us.

It’s a little hectic around here, but my goal is to post something short each day for the following week. Stay tuned.

xo

Anmarie