Remembering the Flyboys…Lee E. O’Harra, Aviation Cadet Bennett “Bud” C. Provost, Staff Sgt John W. De Mille, Staff Sgt Trenton T “Tad” Tucker

We Regret to Inform You: Remembering the flyboys

Lee E. O’Harra
Aviation Cadet Bennett “Bud” C. Provost
Staff Sgt John W. De Mille
Staff Sgt Trenton T. “Tad” Tucker

Ashland resident Staff Sgt. John De Mille's aircraft,


Ashland resident Staff Sgt. John De Mille’s aircraft, “O’Reilly’s Daughter.” Photo courtesy of the 301st Bombardment Group and Daily Tidings

By Lynne Hasselman

Posted Sep. 16, 2015 @ 2:00 am

“Editor’s note: This is the fifth installment of a series of stories about Ashland residents who lost their lives in military service during World War II. It continues on Wednesdays through Nov. 11, Veterans Day.”

“Lee E. O’Harra, Ashland High Class of 1938, was an inveterate doodler who kept a scrapbook filled with his drawings of all the aircraft and carriers of the time. World War II gave him the chance to live his dream of being a pilot. As part of the Marine Base Defense Aircraft Group 44 out of Mojave, Calif., a training center for squadrons slated for assignments aboard aircraft carriers, 1st Lt. O’Harra was assigned to pilot the FM-1 Wildcat, a single-seat fighter aircraft.

On Nov. 1, 1943, at 5:40 p.m., Lee was participating in a mock combat mission 8 miles from the base over the desert. According to Capt. Oscar Bate, whom Lee was flying against: “When we were about 500 yards apart, I pulled up to show him (Lee) that even though he had the altitude advantage, I could bring to bear my guns in a head on run as well as he could his. I think he finally tried to pull above me but his plane hit on top of mine.”Bailing out of his damaged plane, Capt. Bate was able to open his chute at 1,500 feet and survived with only cuts and bruises. Tragically, Lee’s aircraft crashed and caught fire about a half-mile away.

In an official photograph taken in late October 1943, Lee stands in his dark leather flight jacket and crisp garrison cap looking resolutely into the camera. Just a month later, his close friend, Lt. William Erdman, had the heartbreaking duty of escorting Lee’s body back to Ashland for burial.

Lee’s plans had been always been big — once he returned home, he had planned to propose to his girlfriend and already had picked out her engagement ring. Instead, his grief-stricken parents had to hang a large gold star in the window of their living room overlooking North Main Street where their son used to play the piano for his friends.

Residents also mourned the senseless loss of Aviation Cadet Bennett “Bud” C. Provost, a good-looking, sandy-haired young man who, when he wasn’t playing on the Grizzly football, basketball and baseball teams, helped at his family’s store. At Ashland High School, he was school president and, after graduation, was set to major in engineering at Stanford.

Bud was sent to Monmouth College in Illinois for Naval Flight Preparation School before being stationed at the Alameda Naval Training Base in California. On May 21, 1944, he was waiting on the tarmac to board his plane when the machine gun on another aircraft taxiing into position for takeoff jammed. It fired a hail of bullets, killing Bud instantly and cutting short a life filled with such promise.

In an additional heartbreak, Bud’s grandmother, Bessie Carlton, also of Ashland, died of a stroke upon being told of her grandson’s death. Trinity Episcopal Church in Ashland was filled to overflowing with friends and family who came to pay their respects at the double funeral. Both Bud and his grandmother were laid to rest in Mountain View Cemetery in Ashland.

Staff Sgt. John W. De Mille, who grew up on Granite Street, was a B-17 aerial gunner with the 301st Bombardment Squadron, 352nd Bomb Group. In September 1942, his squadron entered into combat in France and in Sicily, Sardinia, and Tunisia, where they bombed docks, shipping facilities, military bases, and railroad yards. On April 6, 1943, they attacked a convoy of merchant ships off Bizerte, Tunisia, destroying the transportation network for supplies essential to the Axis defense. They were credited with shooting down seven enemy aircraft. The following month, flying in a plane nicknamed “O’Reilly’s Daughter” after the popular Army Air Force drinking song, John and his crew were the lead aircraft over the left coast of Sicily. Their plane exploded as it approached the bomb run — official reports said it had received a burst of flak from another squadron’s aircraft directly into its open bomb bay.Marjorie O’Harra, sister-in-law of casualty Lee O’Harra, remembers the heartbreaking sight of John’s father, Roy, a sign painter by trade, climbing up his ladder to paint a gold star next to his son’s name on the Ashland Roll of Honor.

Ashland’s Class of 1941 lost Staff Sgt. Trenton T. Tucker, known as Tad, a gunner with the 330th Bombardment Squadron, 93rd Bomb Group (Heavy). His B-24 airplane, nicknamed Old Hickory, was bound for Braunschweig, Germany, on April 8, 1944, when one of its bombs armed itself automatically but failed to drop. The pilot pulled out of formation just before the bomb went off and blew out one of Old Hickory’s bomb bay doors. The crippled aircraft limped along until it was hit over the Zuider Zee by heavy anti-aircraft fire from a Luftwaffe FW-190A. A few seconds later, it exploded.

Six crew members bailed out and were taken as prisoners of war (POWs). Three more, including Tad, lost their lives. Tad made it out, but tragically, his parachute didn’t open. He died after impacting the ground.

Today, on the side of a country road near the town of Nagele in the Netherlands, a local organization has placed a signpost affixed with the simple red metal outline of a plane. Overlooking a peaceful swathe of green farmland, it quietly stands sentry over the spot where Old Hickory went down.

Next week: Remembering 2nd Lt. Fred Shere: Heroically leading a mission gone wrong.

We Regret To Inform You – The War Comes Home

Sgt Mainard “Damon” Clifton – Jumping Behind Enemy Lines on D-Day with the 101st Airborne

Sgt Damon Clifton – Jumping behind enemy lines on D-Day with the 101st Airborne

Sgt. Clifton after receiving his jump wings at Fort Benning, Ga., in December 1943. Photo courtesy of the Clifton Family

“Sgt. Damon Clifton after receiving his jump wings at Fort Benning, Ga., in December 1943. Photo courtesy of the Clifton Family and Daily Tidings”

“By Lynne Hasselman
Posted Sep. 8, 2015 at 8:25 PM
Editor’s note: This is the fourth installment of a series of stories about Ashland residents who lost their lives in military service during World War II. It continues on Wednesdays through Nov. 11, Veterans Day.
  • “When Ashland’s invasion hour sirens blow, go at once to the church of your choice and pray for the success of the invasion and that the loss of life may be small,” said the Ashland Ministerial Alliance in the May 15, 1944, issue of the Ashland Tidings. D-Day arrived on June 6, 1944 — the streets of Ashland were empty, the places of worship full. A local editorial remarked, “The most noticeable thing about the people we saw today was a sort of quiet determination — a grim belief that the beginning of the end is here.”

    No one wanted the war to end more than the men on the front lines. Sgt. Mainard D. Clifton, known as Damon to the Class of 1939, was a driven young man, so active in the debate team in high school that he had this next to his senior picture: “Debate, debate, from early to late, if a line were crooked, he’d prove it straight.” With his slicked back, wavy hair, steady, intense gaze, and exceptional public speaking skills, he would have been a good lawyer. At 1:20 a.m. on D-Day, Damon parachuted into Normandy with the celebrated 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment, 101st Airborne Division.

    As part of the medical detachment team, Damon was with the first wave of Allied troops to land in France. Like many in his unit, he was released in the middle of a German offensive position instead of the planned drop zone. After meeting up on the ground with a small group of men, they tried to get back to their intended objective but, as Damon later wrote, “an overenthusiastic German ruined a perfectly good GI helmet and about two-inches of Clifton’s scalp.” This, of course, was an understatement — he had been shot and a piece of his helmet was embedded in his skull.

    He was then interrogated and taken to a German “Krankenstube” (infirmary) in Saint Come du Mont, along with his battalion surgeon, who had a badly broken ankle, and several other medics. In pain and under extremely dangerous conditions, they provided aid to the wounded for three days. While there, Damon was befriended by a French schoolteacher who provided him with local intelligence and extra food — when she was accused of sabotage by the Germans, he immediately rose to her defense at his own peril. He and several other prisoners hid caches of stolen pistols, rifles, and grenades within reach of the wounded Americans so, if necessary, they could defend themselves. When it became clear that the Allies would liberate them shortly, the Germans either fled or surrendered.

    Damon then returned to Ramsbury, England, for some time away from combat. In a letter home to his parents on Aug. 19, 1944, Damon wrote, “Everything— except a battle we had a week or so ago a few miles away — seems unimportant and dull compared to those first three days. Everyone has a story to tell about that period before we were relieved … It’s good to be back, and it’s good to get your letters. You have no idea. And while I’m on the subject, it is a matter of never-ending amazement how you manage to write about the things I’m most interested in. As someone said, ‘People know either a lot more or a lot less about you than you think they do.’ With lots of love, Damon.”

    Damon then participated in the ill-fated Operation Market Garden, the invasion of Holland, on Sept. 17, 1944. Everything initially went like clockwork — Damon and his crew took off at 9:20 a.m. with their arrival time in Holland set for 10:25 a.m. The trip was uneventful until approximately five minutes from the drop zone when their formation received heavy anti-aircraft fire. Planes caught fire and four aircraft crashed, but those remaining slowed to jump speeds and the paratroopers, including Damon, were dropped near the town of Eindhoven. Their mission was to secure the corridor from the city to the Wilhelmina Canal.

    They fought house to house and street to street while civilians ran for cover. The bridges came under heavy enemy counterattack. When Damon was given the order to assist a wounded soldier, he immediately rushed across open terrain, dodging German automatic and rifle fire to help. He went down, shot in the kidneys and severely wounded.

    Damon succumbed to his injuries on Sept. 20, the last person from his unit killed during the liberation of Eindhoven. He was posthumously awarded the Bronze Star for his heroism in February 1945.

    At the Netherlands American Cemetery in Margraten where Damon is buried, the grassy central mall is lined with tulip poplars, rhododendrons, and rose bushes which burst into bloom by Memorial Day. Damon’s stark white cross stands in a gentle, sweeping curve with 49 others from his division. Nearby, the bronze statue of a mourning mother stands over the reflecting pool grieving the loss of her son.”


    Remembering the Flyboys…
    Lee E. O’Harra
    Aviation Cadet Bennett “Bud” C. Provost
    Staff Sgt John W. De Mille
    Staff Sgt Trenton T “Tad” Tucker

    First Page with complete list of names…
    We Regret To Inform You – The War Comes Home

Remembering Cpl. Lewis R. Setchell: Leading his men in the Battle of the Bulge

  •  “Cpl. Lewis R. Setchell: Leading his men in the Battle of the Bulge”
  • Bud and Lynn Setchell. Setchell Family photo

    “Bud and Lynn Setchell. Setchell Family photo

    By Lynne Hasselman

    Posted Sep. 2, 2015 at 2:00 AM

    Editor’s note: This is the third installment of a series of stories about Ashland residents who lost their lives in military service during World War II. It continues on Wednesdays through Nov. 11, Veterans Day.

    Cpl. Lewis R. Setchell, known as Bud, was a tall, dark-haired, lanky young man with a quiet, steadfast personality and a wide smile lit from within. A graduate of Ashland High School’s Class of 1940, he had just married his sweetheart, Lynn, and was planning to help manage his family’s 360-acre farm outside of Medford. Bud and Lynn had already picked the site for their first home on a hill overlooking it.

    Instead, he was drafted into the 21st Armored Infantry Battalion, 11th Armored Division. After Bud finished training at Camp Polk, La., he and Lynn drove back to Ashland just so he could hold his newborn niece for the first — and what turned out to be the last — time. A troop train took him to Camp Kilmer, N.J., and 13 days later, he was bound for Southampton, England.

    Once they landed, Bud went to Camp Upton Lovell to make final preparations. His division landed in France on Dec. 15, 1944, entered combat on Dec. 23, and crossed into Belgium six days later. By January 1945, Bud’s 11th Division had pushed back German forces six miles in five days, cleared 30 miles of rugged terrain, liberated more than a dozen towns, and ended the threat to the supply route.

    The way was now paved for them to penetrate the Siegfried Line, a 390-mile defensive system heavily fortified with German bunkers and reinforced concrete blockades called Dragon’s Teeth. Mines and barbed wire were placed in the spaces between the individual teeth and laid in multiple rows with cross fire from interspersed pillboxes. Obstacles were everywhere — foxholes were filled with melting snow and mud; uniforms, boots, and equipment were wet; trench foot was rampant; and roads were slick and often frozen.

    Sadly, it was here that Bud’s story came to an end. While leading his men on Feb. 22, 1945, near Eschfeld, Germany, he stepped on a landmine. Hearing its unmistakable click and fully understanding his own fate, he shouted for his men to run and he didn’t move until they were clear of the blast field. Only then did he step off, triggering the detonation that killed him in a spray of shrapnel. His body was then booby trapped to make it more difficult to collect his remains.

    When his young wife, Lynn, received the terrible news, she drove straight from Southern California to Ashland to tell her in-laws in person. As soon as Bud’s father saw her coming up the driveway unannounced, he knew why she was there. When his mother was told, she climbed the hill to the site where Bud and Lynn had planned to build their home overlooking the family farm and wept.

    The hole in hearts and history remains for Bud’s niece, Linda Rae Barker Monroe, and Bud’s sister, Ellen Setchell Barker Gatter. Linda has carefully preserved the tangible remembrances of her uncle’s life: the small pictures he took with him into combat of Linda as a young child and his mother and father; a photograph of his pretty wife laughing as he caught her up in his arms; his gold wedding band and burnished pocket watch, long since stopped; his favorite peanut butter cookie recipe copied in his mother’s hand; the notice of his burial site at Henri-Chappelle American Cemetery in Belgium; his posthumous Purple Heart nestled in a silk-lined box.

    Bud’s final letter home to his parents in January 1945 said, “This is just a note to let you know I’m in good health and have the intention of staying that way. Don’t worry about me getting careless. People just don’t do things like that over here. Anyway, don’t worry I’m not in great danger at present. I’ve put my life in God’s hands to take or let me live as He wills, though I do pray for life if it be His will to do so.”

    Bud’s death was not the first tragedy to visit the Setchell family. Their nephew and cousin from Ashland, Pvt. 1st Class Donald J. Chapman, serving with the 10th Armored Division, 20th Infantry Battalion, was killed the previous year defending the Saare River crossing at Eft, Germany. On Aug. 22, 1948, Don’s casket was disinterred from its temporary military cemetery overseas at the behest of his parents and returned on the U.S. Army Transport (USAT) Lawrence Victory, which had been painted white and wrapped with a large purple mourning band. Don’s casket was transferred from the ship in solemn ceremony and taken under military escort to a cemetery in his childhood hometown in Kansas.

    On April 22, 1945, a joint memorial service for Bud and Don was held at the First Methodist Church in Ashland where they both were members. A stained glass window featuring three Army shields rendered in soft shades of gold, cream, green, and brown — one for Bud, one for Don, and one for the other infantrymen lost — was installed at the church by the Setchell Family in honor of their loved ones. It can still be viewed down a quiet, sunlit hallway in the Meditation Room.


    Sgt. Mainard “Damon” Clifton: Jumping behind enemy lines on D-Day with the 101st Airborne

    We Regret To Inform You – The War Comes Home


Staff Sgt. Robert Farlow – The War Comes Home


  • Staff Sgt. Robert Farlow


    Staff Sgt. Robert Farlow

    Staff Sgt.Lt.
  • By Lynne Hasselman

    Posted Aug. 25, 2015 at 7:28 PM

    “Editor’s note: This is the second installment of a series of stories about Ashland residents who lost their lives in military service during World War II. It will continue on Wednesdays through Nov. 11, Veterans Day.

    Ashland was like many rural towns in the early 1940s — it was a farm town, a railroad town, a lumber town — the type of place where if a kid got in trouble at one end, by the time they ran home, their parents had already heard about it. Doors were never locked and children played outside at night until the streetlights came on. Ashland High School had just over 300 students and Southern Oregon College of Education (SOCE) had a student body numbering close to 200.

    Despite Ashland’s relatively small size, there were always things to do. Picking pears in the orchards or working on the farm, seeing a double matinee at the Varsity, going to the stock car races at the Ashland Fairgrounds, roller skating at the Armory, swimming at the Helman Baths. Mothers dropped their children off at the Lithia Park playground, which had its own attendant and small zoo, while they shopped at the Ashland Groceteria or Fortmiller’s Department Store. The Palace Café or Wimpy’s were always open for lunch — a great milkshake could be had for 10 cents. Medford and its Woolworth’s store were just a short bus ride away.

    Ashland was built upon hard work, faith, family and simple pleasures. Then came World War II. Ashland changed forever.

    The first devastating news to be delivered, even before the U.S. entered the war, was about Staff Sgt. Robert Farlow, one of the most popular students at Ashland High School — a Grizzly football, basketball, baseball and track team standout, a great golf and tennis player, a letterman both his junior and senior years, in student government, in the senior play, on the yearbook staff and in the Boy Scouts. Bob, as he was known, was one of those rare individuals well-liked by everyone.

    The shocking information about his death was delivered on the Oct. 13, 1941, front page: Bob had been killed the previous day as a passenger in a B-23 bomber that crashed into the San Bernardino Mountains during a rainstorm and exploded northwest of the city of Beaumont, Calif. Six other men on board also perished on the routine flight. The Farlow family was notified by telegram at 10:47 p.m., shortly after the United Press International teletype at the Ashland Tidings carried the first accounts of the bomber crash. No one in the newsroom knew yet that Bob was one of the victims.

    The 1941 Ashland High yearbook remembered Bob this way in its dedication: “In memory of Staff Sergeant Robert J. Farlow, first graduate of Ashland High to sacrifice the supreme gift of life on the altar of World War II. His friendly smile and genial manner will long be remembered by all who knew him. The loyalty and energy he extended on behalf of school activities will seldom be surpassed. To those who knew the outstanding members of the Class of ’39, Bob will forever represent the men who will give their lives that we remaining shall enjoy the benefits and privileges of democracy.”

    The tenor of Ashland and certainly the entire country during World War II was one of patriotism, duty, and sacrifice. Everyone — men, women and children — were expected to do their part, whether overseas or on the home front. And when a life ended in tragedy, the community shared its sorrow.

    Ashland mourned for Lt. John R. Pratt, also from the Class of 1939, who was killed along with his crew of seven men on Oct. 15, 1942. Another devastating tragedy early in the war, John was with the 459th Bombardment Squadron, 330th Bomb Group, based in Alamogordo, N.M. He was at the controls on a nighttime training mission when his B-17 collided with Mount Baldy six miles southwest of the tiny town of Magdalena, N.M. In an interview with John’s older brother, Louis C. Pratt, many years later, Louis remembered taking his first flight with John when a barnstormer came through town offering free plane rides. It was on that day, Louis said, that his brother decided to become a pilot.

    John visited his family on leave for the last time at the end of summer in 1942 and when they parted, Louis had a premonition that he would never see his brother again. Sadly, he was correct — John died two months later.

    In 2008, a memorial service was held in honor of John and his fallen crew members by the citizens of Magdalena. A plaque listed their names, ranks, and hometowns. It read, “These men also gave their lives for our country. We should not forget them or the sacrifice that they made.”

    John is buried in the Ashland Cemetery just a row away from his classmate Bob Farlow.”


    Corporal Lewis R. Setchell: Leading His Men in the Battle of the Bulge

    Pvt. 1st Class Donald J. Chapman

    We Regret To Inform You – The War Comes Home



“We Regret To Inform You: The War Comes Home”

I grew up in Ashland OR and a part of my heart is in the Rogue Valley – a lot  of my history. These stories are being published in the Daily Tidings each week and mean a lot to me.  I love and respect our men and women in the Military – and their families and want to honor them and save these posts for my family and friends.  Hopefully they’ll interest you as well.

We Regret to Inform You: The war comes home – News –

Thu Aug 27, 2015 1:03 am (PDT)

The Ashland World War II Roll of Honor board. Photo courtesy of the Terry Skibby Collection

The Ashland World War II Roll of Honor board. Photo courtesy of the Terry Skibby Collection

“The Ashland World War II Roll of Honor board.The Ashland World War II Roll of Honor board. Photo courtesy of the Terry Skibby Collection

About the author

Lynne Hasselman, a writer and researcher from Ashland, heard and was moved by the story of Cpl. Lewis R. Setchell and his sacrifice. She set out to investigate whether the plaque at Ashland High School listing the 12 students who died during World War II was still correct now that additional research tools and technologies were available. She found there were many more casualties from Ashland than anyone had documented, and set out to create a more comprehensive accounting through first-hand remembrances and official reports.

This project was not without its challenges. Artifacts like the Ashland Roll of Honor had long since been discarded, and the records that remained were old and incomplete. She pieced together information with the help of Ashland High School alumni and subject matter experts.


By Lynne Hasselman

Posted Aug. 18, 2015 at 6:10 PM
Updated Aug 18, 2015 at 6:11 PM

Editor’s Note: This is the first installment of a series of stories about Ashland residents who lost their lives in military service during World War II. It will continue on Wednesdays through Nov. 11, Veterans Day.
This year marks the 70th anniversary of V-J Day when victory was declared over Japan and World War II ended. On Wednesday, Aug. 15, 1945, after a tense day waiting and hoping the Japanese would accept the terms of the Potsdam Declaration, at 4 p.m. on a hot, sunny day in Ashland, the happy news came across the wires. After six years and over 407,000 American servicemen and women lost, World War II was finally over.
City sirens blasted and Ashland Mayor T.S. Wiley immediately ordered all government offices closed. Stores locked their doors and people spilled onto the streets of downtown and gathered on the Plaza, letting loose with a cacophony of cheers, whistles, and singing, accompanied by clanging buckets and dishpans, the honking of cars, and ringing of bike bells.
Confetti rained from second floor windows, and homemade signs were quickly hung from balconies and taped to doors announcing “V-J Day is Here!” Ashland’s First Methodist Church, perched overlooking Main Street, remained open all night so people could give thanks at any time, and the city-wide interfaith service that evening was packed to overflowing. The headline on the Ashland Tiding’s Extra Edition read: “Peace on Earth. Reunions Coming.” For a world that just yesterday seemed permanently tinged with the darkness and shadow of war, there was now hope and the promise of a future.
Despite their happiness that the fighting was over, for the families, friends and classmates of those from Ashland who died, relief was overshadowed by the deep regret and despair. The fabric that stitched their lives together irreparably tore the day they received the telegram with “Casualty Message” from the War Department. There would be no homecoming parade or reception for their loved ones — they were buried under simple wooden crosses overseas, under the spreading oaks and maple trees of the Mountain View and Ashland Cemeteries, or memorialized in the Courts of the Missing.
Between 1,000 and 1,200 Ashland residents served in the Armed Services during WW II. They fought in Normandy on D-Day, on Okinawa, Iwo Jima, Guadalcanal, and in the Battle of Bataan; they died in the Battle of the Bulge, in Operation Market Garden, in the South Pacific; they were Prisoners of War (POWs) in Germany, Manchuria, and Luzon; they were imprisoned on Japanese “Hell Ships”; they came home physically and mentally wounded.
Today, a simple plaque dedicated by Ashland High School’s Class of 1941 hangs in the school’s administration building inscribed with the names of 12 students who died during World War II.
That’s only a small part of the story.
There was never a complete list of casualties from Ashland and the accounting from Jackson County was incomplete — servicemen relocated, left for college, enlisted elsewhere, their families moved, or their names were misspelled. The scavenger hunt for evidence as to how many more were lost goes on — in microfiche issues of the Ashland Tidings, old Ashland High School student newspapers and a handful of yearbooks; in the 1940 census, cemetery records and official battle reports; in a yellowed scrapbook carefully pasted with local obituaries; in a water-damaged list stored in a church basement with the names of soldiers asking for prayers; and, most importantly, in the remembrances of those who lived it.
The clues point to at least 60 young men from Ashland who were killed in this war — most of whom graduated from Ashland High School and/or the Southern Oregon College of Education (SOCE), and some who grew up here or were employed here. To put those numbers in context, the population of Ashland at that time was a little more than 4,700 people. The chances that you knew someone — family member, friend, neighbor — who was killed was high; the chances that you knew a serviceman fighting overseas almost certain. The American Legion’s huge three-sided Roll of Honor, dedicated on July 4, 1943, listed all the names of those serving. It was located downtown and immediately became a rallying point and a statement of pride for the entire community.
As World War II dragged on, the number of gold stars grew next to Honor Roll names, marking those who died.
Today, each of the local men behind the star deserves to be named, remembered, and given voice. Please follow us every week until Veterans Day as the Ashland Tidings features some of their unvarnished narratives reflecting all the tragedy, heroism, and profound loss born of that time and this place.”


Staff Sgt. Robert Farlow and Lt. John R. Pratt – The War Comes Home.

Corporal Lewis R. Setchell: Leading His Men in the Battle of the Bulge
Pvt. 1st Class Donald J. Chapman

Sgt. Clifton: Jumping behind enemy lines on D-Day with the 101st Airborne

Remembering the Flyboys…
Lee E. O’Harra
Aviation Cadet Bennett “Bud” C. Provost
Staff Sgt John W. De Mille
Staff Sgt Trenton T “Tad” Tucker