It was not until Judy and I took a bus ride to
the top of Sharptop Mountain several years ago
that we overheard the bus driver telling about
a tragic plane crash on the mountainside during
World War II.
We were told that November would be the
safest time to search for the crash site because
the leaves would have fallen and the rattlesnakes
might be in hibernation. This stony mountainside
is where it all happened on February 2, 1943.
The crash was near Buzzard's Roost, the
outcropping of boulders pictured below.
This is a B-25 Mitchell, a bomber like
the one that crashed that night, lighting
up the mountainside in a fearsome display
of fire and explosions, visible in Bedford
eight miles away. It took hours for men with
lanterns to reach the sight of the conflagration.
There were no survivors; the five man crew
had perished instantly on impact with the
unyielding mountain slope.
Here is a link to a website from which the
excerpt below was borrowed. You will find
many more pictures of the site there if you are
so inclined. This presents the basic facts.
"On Feb. 2, 1943, a B-25 bomber on a training mission out of South Carolina crashed into the southeast flank of Sharp Top Mountain, killing all five servicemen aboard. The cause of the crash is still somewhat of an enigma, as a war-stressed military could not devote many resources to solving the mystery of the crash. Nor, did it have the time or inclination to remove the wreckage from the steep mountainside at 3,000 feet elevation. Most of it remains to this day, a true-to-life memorial to World War II sacrifice amid the Blue Ridge grandeur."
Finally, one November, Judy, her brother Tim,
and I were able to embark on the search for the
crash site. The owner of The Liberty House where
Judy and I had stayed before had given me specific
landmarks to help us locate the scene of the crash.
The climb up the mountain was daunting. But our
landmarks did not fail us. As we began to find evidence
of the wreckage we sensed the solemn sanctity of
this place, long respected by all who visited it.
Part of a wing.
A strut from one of the landing gear.
Tim and I posed by a memorial plaque
recently carried up the mountain and place
by a troop of boy scouts.
Part of a wing.
One of the twin engines. Both remain at
the site. The military removed only electronic
and sensitive equipment.
I'm standing beside the largest remaining
piece of the fuselage, or body of the plane.
The other engine.
The mid-section of the fuselage. The
condition of the wreckage makes it plain
why no one could have survived.
These five men's lives were given every
bit as much for the cause of freedom as those
who died on distant shore or in steaming jungles.
The monument below (click to enlarge) is
in homage to these men and hundreds of thousands
like them, who were ready and willing to put
their lives on the line unquestionly.
My father was also in the Army Air Corps.
He knew many men who never returned from
their missions. Daddy was one of those who
came back from the war with a story to tell,
that we might learn, remember, and understand.
My next blog honors him and all veterans and
will conclude my trilogy of Veterans Day blogs.
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