Memorially Thinking about Cheating Death

My father and his "modified" P-40.  The sheep fleece lined boots in this picture remained in father's closet until his passing in 2015. 

By Bob Ferris

My greater family has often been described as being a military family.  My sense is that is mainly true as my ancestors have served in nearly all the wars, large and small, waged on this continent since stepping on Plymouth Rock nearly 400 years ago.  Some have been notable officers such as Colonel Benjamin Church (1,2) or William Walton Morris and George Douglas Ramsay, the pair of West Point classmates and Civil War generals whose children married four months after Appomattox (see below).  Others have been more humble like Privates John "KW" Waller and Samuel Canby who served in our fight for independence.

Ann Morris Ramsay and Lt. Colonel Joseph Gales Ramsay who married in August 1865 with their son Major William Gouverneur Ramsay who served during the Spanish American War.  The Major is my great-grandfather.

In point of fact my ancestors showed up.  An example of this is that I descend from at least eleven who served in the Revolutionary War.  What is remarkable about this collection of soldiers is that I can only find one who died during all these conflicts.  That was Corporal Francis Chaffin who died at Valley Forge of small pox.  The rest seemed to cheat death which brings me to my father who was a P-40 pilot in World War Two.

P-40s in training flight over Texas circa 1943. 

My father served in New Guinea during World War Two.  He did not talk much about his experiences until he was nearly a half-century removed from the experience.  But one story he told was about flying between palm trees and modifying his plane in the process (see photo at top).  His story in his words is below.

I have three thoughts after reading the above transcribed account.  The first is my father's pugnaciousness which he certain passed on to me in some manner.  It reminds me that he and I used to wrestle when I was in my early teens.  Fighter pilots are relatively small and he would still come at me even though I was three inches taller and nearly a sack-of-feed heavier.

Bill Ferris in wrestling garb in 1939.  Taken at Governor Dummer Academy in Byfield, Massachusetts. 

My second thought is the complexity of flying these fighters.  I was reminded of this while watching the sequences portraying British Spitfires in the movie Dunkirk which I thought did a good job of giving a glimpse of much that was involved (see clip below).  Having experienced the intensity of concentration required to fly these winged beasts my father was too often bored and therefore drowsy when driving.  When he was older and still driving one of us always seemed tasked with verbally nudging him on long trips when his concentration flagged and his head started to droop.

My last thought is likely the most important and relevant.  My father and all these other ancestors did not die during a war or in battle so Memorial Day is not truly their day.  I get that, but I would also argue that a part of anyone who endured these types of situations and cheats death dies.  My father was forever changed and often spoke about his post-war existence as time borrowed or something similar.  On this Memorial Weekend I will remember those who made the ultimate sacrifice like Francis Chaffin but also those who were forever changed by galloping alongside death.