On Memorial Day, Honoring my Uncle Frank J. Curley, MIA, USAAF

Sacrificed off HaHa Jima Japan 10Feb1945

Memorial Day is always rough for me for many reasons.

Here is just one.

This Memorial Day, I especially recall and honor my MIA Uncle Frank J. Curley, 1st Lt. USAAF, sacrificed when his B-24 was shot down off HaHa Jima Japan on 10Feb1945. Spent 40 years researching his story as an adult as the pain was so great for my grandmother we were not allowed to talk about it when I was young. His death in combat in WWII left a hole in my family that has continued to impact us through generations. My way of coping is to recover his memory and keep it alive with other Vets.

Here are valuable web links to help other MIA families find out about their lost one. Hopefully, you won't have to spend 40 years researching the loss of your loved one as I did.

https://poetslife.blogspot.com/2005/12/frank-j-curley-mia-usaaf-in-memoriam.html

Screaming Like a Banshee

My wife screams like a banshee

to cover wailing with neutral sound

when my toddler Eamon fights her

and refuses to take a nap.

I hear Grandmom Curley screamed

like a banshee when the telegram arrived

from the War Department in 1945

to tell her the oldest, Frank, the one

who was supposed to be the Jesuit,

instead had been killed in action

when the Japanese ack-ack

turned his B-24 into a fireball

on his 39th mission over Haha Jima

in an ocean grave in the South Pacific.

Grandmom Curley screamed

like a banshee for weeks

until they hooked her up

and shot electricity through her brain

to cover wailing with neutral sound.

She never screamed like a banshee again.

Instead, she wailed so deep down for 20 years

because the hole in her heart was so vast,

laughter was no longer a planet in her galaxy

and the only way people would describe her was,

“She was never the same after Frank died in the Pacific.”

Another Reason Memorial Day is Rough for Me

I have attended the funerals of two uncles, Ray Curley and Billy Curley, at Arlington National Cemetery. I was also at Arlington National Cemetery to bury a remarkable Navy SEAL.

I wrote “Soft Feet Walk the Wet Green Grass of Arlington” before attending the funeral of this Navy SEAL who was the husband of the niece of my friend, Pete Thompson, the Vietnam Army green beret who pulled two tours of duty in Vietnam you see saluting the grave of his comrade in the photo below.

Unfortunately, like so many who have known the horrors of combat, this SEAL took his life after 20 years of service. My friend asked me to write a poem to honor him to be read at his funeral.

Given the stress of reintegrating into civilian life, I have rewritten special operator’s resumes over the years. They need a mission. If we can give them a mission after they leave the service, we can break the anxiety/depression/suicide ideation/suicide loop. Simply rewriting their resumes to be civilian resumes enables them to get a mission, a job, have families, and live a good life rather than ruminating about past injuries.

For that burial poem, I concentrated on the SEAL's widow and children and tried to convey their lives at that moment and how they must continue despite the pain of the end. Pete said the SEAL’s widow framed the poem as it gave her comfort.

Soft Feet Walk the Wet Green Grass at Arlington

Soft feet walk the wet green grass at Arlington,

Where a young mother cradles her baby and two sons,

Weeping softly in death-caused grief and pain

As her warrior husband is interred and remembered.

Many sing praises of his courage, bravery, and strength

Under enemy fire in fierce battles in foreign lands.

She feels the baby move at her neck and cry out,

Hungry for food but unaware of the greater hunger.

The mother hears more words of praise from the chaplain,

She tries to maintain, but the knot of grief grabs her throat.

She sees the two boys fidgeting and looking about

And wonders how she will explain their father to them one day.

Her pain is now to a degree she knows as few do

The sword that has pierced her heart can never be removed

In this lifetime, and will stay with her until her own death:

Until then there are three children who must be raised.

As Christ hung on a Cross and Mary saw her son taken

So, the Holy Spirit could be revealed to the human race,

This mother must protect, nourish, love, and kindle

The spirit of these children co-created with her husband.

The wind blows and she looks up to see a man with a flag

Telling her how grateful the nation is for her husband’s sacrifice.

She knows now what every warrior’s widow must know,

The truth of his life work that became his mission:

His love for her was the reason he was willing to die,

That sacrificial love is the reason these children live.

She cradles the baby and flag, takes the boys hands,

Stands and walks, despite the grief, to her destiny and duty.

November 14, 2017