Leonard Herman Flies Final Mission

God speed, Leonard. Happy landings...

Just received word from Linda, Leonard's daughter, that Leonard Herman passed away today.

My world just got a lot more lonely. I'll never fill that gap in my heart that was filled by my buddy Leonard. I love you, Len.

I am including in this post the hardest writing assignment of my life: Leonard's obituary, which I wrote this morning before I knew for sure we'd have to use it.

Len, I'll never have another friend like you. I pray your mission is successful, and that you are, as we speak, in the arms of God.

Rob

"Leonard Herman, 92, of Columbus, Georgia, one of the most decorated airmen of World War Two, flew his final mission on October , 2008. Leonard flew two tours of duty in the service of his country as a combat bombardier.

Leonard was born to Lena and Lewis Herman in Philadelphia, PA, on September 10, 1916, the third of five children. He attended Philadelphia public schools, graduating from Overbrook High School. While in grade school, he worked as a ball boy for Philadelphia’s Negro League baseball team, and met many of the great players of the era. After attending college for a short time, he became a traveling salesman. In 1942, he enlisted in the U.S. Army, later transferring to the Army Air Force, where he trained first as a pilot and then as a bombardier. He flew 25 dangerous missions as a B-17 Flying Fortress bombardier for the 95th Bomb Group (H) in the early days of the air war over Europe in 1943, when the odds of completing 25 missions were slim, and was wounded in combat. He was credited with shooting down two German fighters. Upon completion of his tour, he was reassigned to the U.S. Ninth Air Force and returned to Europe, flying many additional missions as a bombardier on A-26 Intruders and B-26 Marauders. He flew missions up until the last days of the war. Along with his brother E. Edward and another young GI named Robert Hilliard, Leonard pressured the United States government to change its policy towards liberated concentration camp survivors in the American Sector of Germany, thereby saving thousands of lives. The story was made into a book and later an acclaimed documentary entitled ‘Saving St. Ottilien’. For this action and for his two tours of combat, he was nominated for a belated Medal of Honor, and has a United States Post Office named after him in Boca Rotan, FL. Among his many combat decorations are the Distinguished Flying Cross, the Purple Heart, and the Air Medal with four Oak Leaf Clusters. He participated in the Battle of Northern Europe, Battle of Northern France, Battle of the Rhineland, Battle of the Ardennes, and Battle of Central Europe.

After the war, he met and fell in love with a young Army nurse, Pauline Rubin, of Philadelphia. They were married 1946 in Philadelphia. Leonard then embarked on a successful career in the textile industry, and ran his own large company, Seagull Manufacturing, for many years. Leonard and Pauline also raised their daughter Linda in the Philadelphia area.

In the seventies, Leonard became involved in the 95th Bomb Group and the preservation of its history. He was the project coordinator, along with Ellis Scripture, of the acclaimed oral history of the group edited by Ian Hawkins entitled “Courage, Honor, Victory”. He remained very active in the 95th Bomb Group until poor health prevented his active participation. In 2007, he published his memoirs.

Leonard was a member of the Jewish faith. He was preceded in death by his wife Pauline Rubin Herman and his brother E. Edward Herman. He is survived by two brothers, Herbert and Irwin; a sister Miriam; his daughter, Linda Collins; son-in-law Larry Collins; grandson Jordan Collins; and numerous nieces and nephews. Leonard was an outgoing, loving man and everyone was his friend.
Funeral/memorial services will be held ________. Condolences can be sent to _____."

Leonard Herman: One Last Mission

I just got a phone call from Linda Collins, Leonard Herman's daughter who has taken care of him for so many years. Her beloved father, and my beloved friend, is preparing to go to the angels this evening after suffering heart failure earlier today. Please pray for Len, that he may go without pain and that God will gather him to Himself. I pray that soon Len will be with his dear wife Polly. He took such good care of her in the last years of her life, when she was suffering from Alzheimers. He was such a sweet man. He told of one time, when Polly did not know who he was anymore and he was taking daily care of her. She had him sit down next to her on the bed, and said, "You are such a very nice man. I'm married, but do you think my husband would mind if you lay down and I put my head on your shoulder for a while?" And Leonard lay down next to her and said, "I don't think he'd mind at all, Polly."

Pray for the Collins family. They live in Georgia, far from the support of the family up in Philly. There are many things to be done. Linda has done such a good job with her dad this past year as his memory failed him.

I thank God I was able to go visit my pal Len this summer in Columbus. We had such a great time. We went out to eat Chinese, and he out-ate me. He had a funny habit of sneaking his dentures into his napkin. I pretended I didn't notice. We went to a movie, but left early because Len thought it was terrible. But we ended up at Barnes and Noble, and had a great afternoon looking at books about the air war. We also had many hours of enjoyment just sitting on the couch, talking. Leonard was the perfect friend. We spent so many hours enjoying each other's company. We always ended our talks by saying "I love you", and I'm so glad we did.

Len just turned 92 this past month.

I will never, ever have another friend like Leonard Herman. In fact, a person is very blessed to have one such friend in a lifetime.

I love you, old friend. May God welcome you with open arms into your eternal reward.

Amen

Phone Call with a Friend

I called my old friend again today. He appears, at the age of 91, to be fading. His daughter is caring for him pretty much round the clock. When she's not able to, he's shut into his room for his own safety. It's sad how the U.S. just doesn't seem to have many facilities that can care for old veterans. Or maybe we do, and this particular family does not know where to find the facility. My friend is in the advanced stages of dementia. I try to call him every week but sometimes I'm unable to get an answer at his end. He lives with his daughter and son-in-law, and has for many years. I talk to his daughter each time, too, and try to give her my support and prayers. She is at her wit's end much of the time, dealing with this old man who is her father.

When I first met him, he was fully functional, if a tad eccentric. He drove himself around, flirted with the ladies in the Post Office, looked for good deals on vitamins, and loved life. He was nominated for a Congressional Medal of Honor, but didn't get it. Instead, he got a post office named after him in Florida. He loved to have people recognize him in his 'First B-17's over Berlin' ballcap or take notice of his Purple Heart license plates, which hinted at the horrific story of an event 20,000 feet over Germany in 1943. When he returned to the States after that terrifying tour, he swore he'd never go back into combat. A few months later, he was flying B-26 missions over France, doing more than any one man should ever have to.

In the past year and a half, he has lost the ability to drive, to go anywhere alone, or even to have his own phone line. His doctor wants him to leave his TV on so that he is stimulated, but he turns it off and goes to bed, earlier each night. Then he gets up during the night and wanders the room, looking out onto the back lawn.

Before I called today, he's always had vivid recall of his days in the skies over Europe in World War II, regaling me with stories and off-color jokes for hours, despite the fact that he had trouble remembering things from the present. Today, it appeared he had forgotten not just the present day, but also most of the past. I tried over and over to bring up stories he could connect with, and he finally grasped at one and remembered the event, from VE Day, 1945, when he was on his second combat tour in Rheims, France--the city where the Armistace was signed.

Tomorrow I'm going to send him a photo of me, so when he talks to me next, as we have for so many hundreds of times over the years, he can remember what I look like. It's sad watching my old friend gliding slowly into the twilight, but it's a journey he will not be making alone. I'm signed on for the duration.

We have a lunch date in June, and we both intend to keep it.

Thoughts--Random but Heartfelt

Nearly ten years ago, I decided to write a book about something that interested me--the World War Two bombers and the men who flew them. I didn't have much of an idea of where to go with the book, and made several false starts before hitting on a way that felt right to me. As I worked, I met one WWII vet after another, and most generously and trustingly opened up to me, invited me into their homes, let me spend the night on a spare bed, showed me their old photos, and most important, shared their lives with me. Five years of hard travel and even harder writing and the book was done.

And the amazing thing is--if the book had never sold a single copy, it was all worth it, and I'd do it again in a heartbeat.

I set out to write a book. I ended up making friends for life. I cherish each one of these men more than any material possession that the earth could give me.

Which is why the past few years have been hard. When all your best friends are in their eighties, and many are pushing ninety, you spend a lot of time saying goodbye.

I spend time each week talking to my best friend, who happens to be 91. He has dementia and possibly Alzheimers. Our conversations are filled with laughter, reflections on the pain of aging, and stories of the past. My friend flew two tours of duty over Europe, first as a B-17 bombardier (he saw his pilot die and nearly died himself on the same mission), and then as a bombardier on A-26 Intruders and B-26 Marauders.

Over a year ago, I helped him put together his memoirs. They are poignant, often funny, and at times very sad. When I read it, I can hear him remembering it all over again. He does this less each week.

In June, I'm going to go see him where he lives in the deep south. It will be a joyous meeting. We met once before, some years ago, in New Jersey, for only a few brief minutes. This time, we'll take our time.

I set out to write a book. Instead, I learned what's important in life.

How lucky is that?

Internet Unites People of Similar Interests

I read a fascinating article in the Sunday paper today. It was about how the Internet, instead of making people less connected to others, has made people more connected. The article discussed the fact that people are able to find people on the Net who share their interests and that many people, men especially, seem to be able to open up better to people online than in person.

This is certainly true, at least for me. I made most of the prep work for my book online. I have also made many good friends online, many of which I have never met in person. The Net has a way of bringing together people world-wide who have the same interests. This has been a Godsend for me. After all, how many people in Idaho Falls, Idaho share my love of World War Two aviation history? How many could relate to the problems of working a full-time job and also trying to write books? I have felt like an odd man out most of my life out here in the remote parts of the U.S. However, thanks to the Net, I could write my books and also find people with similar interests. This has been a great source of comfort to me, as a historian and writer. The idea that someone is trying to make money as a writer in Idaho Falls is so unusual that nobody I come in contact seems to be able to relate to it. Maybe it's not like that in New York City, but it is certainly like that in Idaho.

Great article. Very true. I have friends on the Net who are as dear to me--or more so--than many I have in my own physical sphere. Is this unusual? I guess not anymore, thanks to the web.