On this Memorial Day I want to tell you about a picture which hung over a boy's bed nearly 25 years ago. Someone had given me a water-color which was as beautiful in spirit as it was in design.

An airplane was spinning and falling in flames. Smoke rolled from the crippled ship. Red flames were licking around an empty cockpit. Just above it a sturdy, kind-expressioned angel rode a powerful winged horse. The steed and angel were headed Heave-ward.

One hand held steadily to the reigns. Cradled protectively in her right arm was a youth. His aviator's helmet tilted at a rakish angle, his goggles were raised. His eyes were closed in peaceful sleep. He might have been a tiny lad, contentedly napping in his mother's arms.

The war and the world rolled on with all its troubles. But this boy was safe. Secure in the everlasting arms of eternity.

I can't get that picture out of my mind and I don't want to. For I remember---

 

A red-headed lad I used to play with along the creek-banks near Mentone. We later flew together. His bomber blew up. The angel was there, I know.

Another young fellow road a Ferris wheel at the county fair the last time I saw him. Laughing, having a good time, his gaiety masked the seriousness of his purpose. He was a fighter pilot and a short time later met the angel of my boyhood picture in the skies over Germany. He is surely in good hands.

I recall the brilliant white smile of a Warsaw youth, contrasting with dark eyes that were almost black. He rode with the angel away from a stricken military plane somewhere over the south Pacific. He wasn't along.

There are many more. Too many more.

Whether it was in an airplane or battleship, a trench or a Jeep, I believe the angel was there beside them. don't you?

All our lives we'll think of these brave young g men and it is only human to reflect upon what might have been. but on Memorial Day, I see the angel swiftly winging her way to these boys wherever she is needed. Instantly and surely enfolding each one of them in the timeless safety of Heaven.

As surely as each of us must someday make the self-same trip, as surely will they be there to greet us. Safe and happy. Still boys.

So on Memorial Day, 1948, I want to share with you that boyhood picture as the most comforting, most beautiful thought that I know. And the most true.

Warsaw Daily Times, Mon. May 31, 1948

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