There is something about watching memories trickle down the corners of an old mans eyes that bring home the reality of the real cost of war. It is measured not in money, or bullets spent but in the quite tears of a hero reflecting on the loss of his friends.

As a World War II veteran, life long farmer Fred A.L. Herring of Corning, Arkansas knows the cost all too well.

Its been 73 years since he volunteered for the draft and received his orders to report in January of 1943. But the anguish that washes over him when recalling this time, tells us that for him it hasn’t been nearly that long. This is a time he revisits over and over again especially now.

“I don’t suppose there are very many of us left.” he says quietly.

He is right. Approximately every three minutes a memory of World War II—its sights and sounds, its terrors and triumphs—disappears. Yielding to the in-alterable process of aging, the men and women who fought and won the great conflict are now mostly in their 90s. They are dying quickly—at the rate of approximately 430 a day, according to US Veterans Administration figures.

With less than 700,000 WWII veterans alive today, it is expected that by 2036 there will be none left to recount their experiences. Many consider them the “Greatest Generation” and I doubt anyone would disagree.

They were educated not just in the traditional sense but in that doing the right thing, making the right decision was paramount to everything they achieved. It was with this mind set and vigor for life that 16 million men and women served their country and the world in World War II. Fred Herring was no different.

 

A Hero’s Fight For Freedom

A member of the 390th Bombardment Group of the 8th Air Force under Lt. General J.H. Doolittle,  Herring earned a Purple Heart, an Air Medal and three Bronze Oak Leaf Clusters during World War II. As a ball turret gunner Herring sometimes spent as much as 14 hours a day upside down inside his tiny turret shooting down the enemy.

 

Shortly after arriving in England, Herring was injured by a large piece of shrapnel in his left leg and spent almost three months in the hospital in Red Grave, England. It is hear that his voice falters.

“When I came back from the hospital I found out my entire crew went down.” Gently nudging through an old cigar box of photos and letters, Herring recalls each member of his crew as well as friends who were also lost.

“They were my brothers we trusted each other with our lives.” he said.

Ernie Newell, Bill Pflug, Jim Eppenberger, Jack Chapman, Jim Badcock, Henry Kistner, Okey Winter, Owen Callahan, Chester Sowers, and Francis Docker–all 10 men killed in action after a flak hit and knocked off part of the wing which was on fire along with the bomb bay. The B17 crashed and exploded three miles west of Friedrichshafen, Germany.

“Francis H. Docker, tail-gunner, I was closer to him than anyone, second only to my mother. I don’t even know if he was saved or not…” he breaks off. “There isn’t very much…war comes back to us when we get older, only thing you can think about.” he reflects. “I told them–once I got back, I am gonna fly.”

Fly he did. Herring is listed in over 25 missions and in addition to loosing everyone in his first crew he lost an entire second crew as well.

“You just have no idea what it is, to have seen it. The good Lord just had more for me to do and still does I hope.” he says with a small grin.

His wife who quietly listens and helps him recall occasionally, chimes in “Well He must have a plan for you, do you know what I caught him doing just today? He was standing on a chair digging in the closet for his stuff (pointing to the cigar box) it’s a wonder he didn’t fall! Then the other day he jumped behind the wheel  and you talk about a ride home…oh boy!”

With this I teased him that they might have to hide his keys someday to which he spiritedly responded, “Oh no they aren’t gonna take my keys…I’ll hide them in my mouth if I have too!”

The Good Times

Despite the grief he faces when thinking back on the war, Mr. Herring isn’t afraid to touch on some of the better times of his experience. Such as playing ping pong with Queen Elizabeth.

“I am pretty sure shes still living…I bet she remembers me.” He says proudly. “My daughter is trying to see if she will send me a letter recalling if she remembers playing ping-pong with me. I haven’t heard nothing back yet.”

Mr. Herring survived the nightmare of war and went on to lead the American dream. A dream with a price he has paid in full. A price that is heavily weighed in the tears of his memory.

 

He went on to raise a beautiful family on quiet little farm in North East Arkansas. His son David Herring and grandson Nathan Herring now run it.

Its been a good dream. With a wonderful amazing family and God at his side, he has fought to be an American hero and the beauty of that fight is that wasn’t even the goal, he like so many did so because it was the right thing to do.