Flag-topped white crosses, and a long-lost soldier father found | Opinion

Byron Woodrow Durham kissed his newborn infant, Bobbie Jean, before leaving to fight the enemy in December 1942. Agnes, his wife, and 1-month-old daughter remained in Cairo, Georgia, anxiously waiting for his return one ambiguous day in an unknown future.

Over 16 million men and women tearfully watched as loved ones departed to defend our nation during World War II. Sadly, over 400,000 of these brave warriors were killed in action. Some remained on foreign soil, buried in graves where white crosses rise from hillsides, while others returned home to rest in family plots and military cemeteries. And then there are those like Byron.

On July 1, 1944, 32-year-old Army Air Force Private First Class Byron Durham was one of four passengers and five crew members who boarded an airplane in Papua, New Guinea, on a courier mission. The plane disappeared, and Byron and all aboard were lost. They became nine of the 79,000 soldiers missing in action during WWII.

Losses are not just statistics

Numbers from any tragedy or war are not merely statistics. Each digit represents a human being with stories, history and family, including babies, spouses, fathers and mothers. Each account illustrates heartbreak, grief and countless prayers. Statistics are numbing, but reality should bring us all to our knees when attaching a soul to each number.

Army Air Force Private First Class Byron Durham is buried at Arlington National Cemetery. His plane was lost in 1944 during World War II. His daughter, Bobbie Jean, who was just 1 month old when he went to war, learned his remains had been found in 2001.
Army Air Force Private First Class Byron Durham is buried at Arlington National Cemetery. His plane was lost in 1944 during World War II. His daughter, Bobbie Jean, who was just 1 month old when he went to war, learned his remains had been found in 2001.

Bobbie Jean never knew her father except through pictures and others' memories. She grew up happily in South Georgia and earned a degree in early childhood education, teaching children until she retired in 2000.

However, Bobbie Jean's father was never far away from her heart, even though neither his remains nor his aircraft were located. Byron had given his life for his country, and his daughter began to contemplate what she could do to honor his brave sacrifice.

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She began by finding the names of soldiers from her hometown who died in battles while defending our country. Bobbie Jean petitioned the Grady County commissioners for permission, businesses to donate money and a local high school shop class to turn her dream into reality. Once she raised funds, she went to work purchasing wood, American flags and supplies.

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Flag-topped crosses and a long-awaited phone call

Lynn Walker Gendusa
Lynn Walker Gendusa

On Memorial Day 2001, Broad Street in Cairo, Georgia, was lined with 73 white crosses each topped with an American flag unfurling in the wind. Each cross displayed the name of a lone soldier who one day waved goodbye to their loved ones only to never return. Bobbie Jean's father’s name was among them.

The day after Memorial Day, Bobbie Jean’s phone rang. "Ma'am, we're calling about your missing father, Private First Class Byron Durham. We found the wreckage of his airplane in the hills of Papua, New Guinea. Our team worked for almost two years to identify the remains of those who perished that July day. We will need you to verify Private Byron Durham is your father through your DNA.”

Shocked, Bobbie Jean realized that just a few days before, she had installed her dad’s cross on the street where he roamed as a boy and who now was no longer lost. The rest of the soldiers who perished with her father were also identified.

Today, these brave comrades who lost their lives in 1944 are interred beside each other in Arlington National Cemetery. Bobbie Jean finally, peacefully, waved goodbye to her father.

This is only one story of countless others whose lives ended or were lost because they defended our freedom. And it is one account out of millions of children who never had the pleasure of knowing their mothers or fathers because of an enemy.

When I talked to Bobbie Jean, she told me that she watched as folks celebrated with backyard cookouts, trips to the lake and perhaps enjoyed a baseball game each Memorial Day throughout her life. However, for her, the day meant so much more. Her life was entirely altered by the events after her father's last kiss. He was not a number in the record books; he was her dad, who once played in the park in a small American town in the South.

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Our freedom was earned on the backs of those who fell, who fought and who sacrificed so much. It is maintained by those who serve and who cherish our land.

Today, out of the 16 million who served in World War II, about 240,000 are still living. They will be gone soon as age takes them away. But they and all who gave so much should never leave our thoughts and hearts.

Our brave soldiers exemplify the best of who we are, and we, who enjoy our freedom today, should honor them with the utmost respect by living thankful lives.    

Don’t you think it is odd Bobbie Jean found her dad once she raised his cross? I don't. You see, old soldiers never die — if you keep them in your heart.

Lynn Walker Gendusa is a writer in Georgia and the author of the new book "Southern Comfort." She is originally from Monterey, Tennessee.

This article originally appeared on Nashville Tennessean: Flag-topped white crosses, and a long-lost soldier father found