Part Seven
My slender body lay lifeless, my weapons remained motionless, and my face no longer pointed downrange toward the fight. Thankfully, my eyelids had closed so that I wouldn't have to endure the harsh, burning sun in the days to come. In truth, I had lost track of time due to the continuous fighting during those long, grueling days, with very little sleep. Was I dead, or was I merely dreaming as I saw a plane made with angel’s wings swoop down from within the starlit night? Felix appeared to be piloting the plane, and I felt that he had somehow grabbed my spirit so that he could take me up to heaven with him. I was comforted knowing that I’d be hanging out with Felix again, and boy, did we have fun in that plane before arriving at the gates of heaven. I couldn’t move, so I figured that my time on earth was over. I felt at peace, realizing that the effects of the battle were no longer going to cause me any pain. I was now in God’s hands, and sadly, I was now just another warrior withering away on foreign soil, far from my loved ones.
The battle that had killed me had been one of epic proportions. The ferocious Japanese offensive had left fallen soldiers from both sides strewn across the battlefield. Overall, I sensed that it had been a decisive victory for America, but regrettably, I wasn’t alive to celebrate it. My loved ones must have been concerned about me since I hadn’t written home in many weeks. Additionally, I’m certain that the government hadn’t provided any word about my whereabouts in some time. In the weeks following the official end to hostilities on Saipan, I was found in a field on 18 Jul 1944, next to several other brave men from the 14th Marine Artillery Regiment. With the large number of casualties on the island, it had taken more than a month for my family to be notified of my death. I know Ma and Pa, along with my other kin, must have been devastated by the loss of both Felix and me. Freedom surely isn’t free, and if that meant that I had to make the ultimate sacrifice so that my fellow Texans and Americans could continue to live peacefully at home, so be it.
I was buried at the 4th Marine Division Cemetery on the island of Saipan. My new home was in plot five, row six, grave 1000. I was proud to lie beside my heroic brothers, but I longed to be back in the great state of Texas and close to my family. Pictures of my grave were sent back home to Ma and Pa. My personal effects—consisting of my prayer book, pocket knife, and billfold—were sent to my mother and father. Initially, the commandant of the Marine Corps had notified my folks by mail that I’d been killed on 10 Jul 1944. In December of 1944, the Marine Corps felt that it was necessary to change my date of death to 15 Jul instead. I don’t reckon I know exactly when I died, so how can I expect the government to get it right?
In the end, it doesn’t really matter when I died. All I know is that I stopped living, and all of my dreams abruptly came to an end. I hadn’t been a Marine for very long at the time of my death. Still, I was looking forward to sewing a few more stripes on my shoulder, and it would’ve been swell to have some stars on my collar one day. Since Felix and I had died while serving our country, I wondered who would run the River Bend Farm after Pa was gone. I was posthumously awarded a Purple Heart for having been killed in action. I hope my family will find some solace as they place the medal in their palms and rub their fingers over the embossed letters of my name inscribed on the back. The government told my mother that I had nobly given my life in the performance of my duty and in service to our country.
A few years after the war had ended, my remains were dug up from my grave there in Saipan. Spiritually, I was happy that my body was going to be repatriated to Texas. I’m certain that my family appreciated the fact that I’d be buried out at the Bend Cemetery. Although I'm saddened that I won't be spending eternity with some of my fallen brothers on Saipan, I feel that they’ll understand. All I know is that I left the mortal world way too soon, but I’ll tell you that I’m in a good place, surrounded by Ma and Pa, my kin, and, of course, my best pal and cousin, Felix. The good folks at the Lampasas VFW (Veterans of Foreign Wars) Post 8539 erected a monument to recognize the men from round these parts who had died while serving our country. Felix and I got a real kick out of this, and we were truly honored that we weren’t forgotten. I reckon the person who engraved the stone didn’t know how to spell Saipan or my name correctly, but I can assure you that I do. Maybe one day, someone with the right skills will make the corrections to this wonderful memorial.
P.S. I hope you have enjoyed this multi-week adventure as we get ready to celebrate Memorial Day, and I’m glad I was able to share what really happened to Chauncy as he fought for our freedom on a land so very far away. For more stories, insights, and pictures from both past and present, please be sure to visit my website, www.flyingwithfelix.com.