Time as an illusion. 25 August, 2005. If time is an illusion as it feels these days, yesterday was a week. Not a week in a bad way but multi-layered and astonishing. Far too much to have effectively written about it at 11:30 last night. Due to diligent work on behalf of Hans-Guenther and Ulf Podbielski we may have figured out the photo thing or will by tonight. All I know it involves an ethernet connection and reducing the photos to a manageable size for uploading. Thus, I’ll dutifully report on the fullness of yesterday and consider today’s events when they happen. It’s just 7:00 am here and I will go to the field at 10:00 today to meet with a television reporter from Dresden.
In posting the list of yesterday’s ACS, a few salient points emerge. In and of themselves, the parts listed are most probably listed accurately as determined by educated opinion, some speculation, and brazen guessing based on what has been seen and learned from exhaustive study of P-38 parts catalogues. Remember: my father and the pilots like him had to know their planes well enough to fix them and my father enjoyed working on his own plane. Thus, the parts catalogues which serve us so well now, were his plane bible.
The point of all this part sorting and sifting is to determine when we are finding parts from the cockpit. The cockpit is the pot of gold at the end of this rainbow. All the parts that I and the German wreck hunters hold so dear are inconsequential to the team’s goal except as indicators. All the pieces that emerge from sifting are tossed into buckets, looked over and sometimes licked (yes licked) by the archeologist. He mutters something about scientific spit, makes a decision, and usually and summarily tosses them into a discard pile. Discard meaning nobody can have them until conclusions are drawn and everything has been assessed.
Each day I find a piece that speaks to me in a meaningful way. Yesterday, it was a little jagged flat shard of bakelite (pre-plastic used in the 1940’s) which Hans Guenther told me was from the instrument panel. He said it would definitely have been one of the last things my father looked at in his life.
As time expanded yesterday to include all that happened along with a copious amount of discovery at the “crash feature,” (remember the definition from yesterday? There will be a test later) I stand firmly in the midst of this distortion– this oblique distortion wherein I am rooted in the moment while drawing from history. Paradoxical thinking is the requirement for having this make sense. There is no way even with technology and adjustment to time and place to do it with less complexity. It’s simply surreal work – going backwards in time and piecing history together in this way. It’s scientific and intuitive. It’s emotional and factual. It’s dissociative and concrete. It’s joyous and devastating to find important stuff in the screens when each indicate my father’s catastrophic death.
The plane parts are from a magnificent plane my father called his “iron bird.” To anyone else, it is a pile of rubble. The engine parts are still daunting and heavy, now covered with rust and corrosion. It is easy to imagine their former-power. For the P-38 pilots who flew with my father, my adopted dads, it won’t take much imagination to remember the definitive sound of these huge Allison engines.
As I work in my father’s field, the guys from my father’s fighter group are with me. I swear I saw Bill Capron yesterday leaning against the fence telling a story about flying over France. I wonder what they would make of this if they were here and if it makes them sad when they read the list. This was a complex and mighty piece of machinery built to fly low and fast. The pilots were brave, smart, and competent beyond description. On the field, we speak of these men, of this plane, and we see both quite clearly as we work. It is a plane smashed into a million pieces yet we think of it as whole. It’s mighty spirit lives on in each fragment and rivet we find.
I moved between parts and being part of a documentary film. It is a far less daunting experience than expected due to the professionalism of the Der Spiegel team. They were easily integrated into our daily rhythms and were facile in their ability to be where the action was which was copious yesterday. They did two days of filming in one day and they will return within the week for the rest. We all enjoyed having them around and Dr. Fox declared them “unobtrusive.” That’s like receiving a blessing from the pope.
Reporter, Christopher Gerisch and I had lunch at a nearby fine restaurant yesterday: McDonalds (they have ice). Christopher tells me that the last scenes of the documentary will be filmed at Arlington National Cemetery where I hope to have my father’s memorial service. He also told me that they will prepare an English version for American sale and distribution. I suggested that Robert Redford c/o Sundance should surely be sent a copy. (smiling a diva smile)
The German way of making documentaries is not to emphasize the dramatic with big music and slow-motion action scenes but to create more of an historical yet personal story. I expect the stories told by the people and the camera are dramatic enough in this case.
In the middle of all that swirled around me yesterday, I chipped one of my teeth which is beginning to seem like an annual European event. The last time I did this I was standing in the middle of St. Peter’s in the Vatican and had to find a Roman dentist who charged me 300 Euro. Needless to say, I expected the same yesterday when Ernst found me a local dentist, made the appointment, and then accompanied me to the office. The dentist did his Bondo and light magic (I know what to expect) and pronounced the entire procedure “free for the American piloten’s tochter.” I had no choice but to hug the surprised dentist and give him the Team Estill hat I was wearing.
As though I hadn’t received enough presents, Rodney, our medic, presented me with one more when he said, “Mam, I know you don’t have your father’s dog tags so I want you to have this.” From the chain holding his own dog tags, he removed another one on which was inscribed on one side with these words:
PEOPLE FIRST – MISSION ALWAYS
JPAC STANDARD
DO WHAT’S RIGHT
ALWAYS CARE THE MOST
OPERATE THE BEST
GET BETTER EVERY DAY
[On the other side it says]
“Until They Are Home”
JPAC VALUES
Commitment, Integrity, Respect, Compassion, Honor
I am overwhelmed with this gift. I hope it gives you as a participant in this mission an idea of the kind of people on the JPAC teams. To a person, these code of ethics and beliefs have been expressed to me and were made clear to the documentary filmmakers yesterday. How, I wondered, could there be any more bittersweet joy in this event for me?
I will close this reporting of miracles and surprises with this small inadequate nod of appreciation to my dear friend and constant companion, Ernst Eberle. Due to Ernst’s generous spirit and selfless donation of time and patience, I am flying in a place where I would otherwise flounder. He is easy to be with and always speaks his truth. I am grateful beyond compare for his generous wisdom and language.
To be continued………………….
Rain is the only problem on 25 August: Work stopped in the middle of a rain storm that arrived around 3:00. We were off t he field by 3:15 and I finished my interview with Alexander Bischoff, Correspondent (a real one) from Morgen Post. We were all part of the television news as Sylvia Krause a freelance journalist photographed and interviewed everyone. Local reporter, Nico Wendt, wrote an interesting article for today’s paper in which he invited anyone who might be have acquired any of my father’s personal possessions after the crash, to anonymously leave them at the newspaper office. He wrote specifically about my father’s missing pilot’s watch and a ring another eyewitness saw at the crash site in 1945.
This is one of those things where it occurs to me to pray to Tony or to wonder at my own sanity for having any hope that these items would be returned. One reporter shook his head in amazement that I would even consider this possible. I suggested that he glance out the window at the field and tell me what is impossible. I have great faith in the good people of this community. If those items (and/or others belonging to my father) still exist and the article is read by the right person, they will be returned to me. If not, I can live with the fact that an attempt was made.
The parts from the deepening crater are large and ominous. There was a large piece of one of the engine mounts and after it was somewhat cleaned, the engine piece that fit into it matched perfectly. The metal plate identifying the aircraft would have been on one of the engines. That would be an important find.
The collection of bone fragments grows as does the importance of careful and laborious screening. It’s imperative to stay vigilant and not to discard anything questionable. There is much consulting about this.
As to when is this finished, a question I ponder each day, I can only surmise that when enough is found to make a case for identification or conclusion, the field will be restored. For now, we are still in the process of finding what lies beneath the “crash feature.” Some of the stuff is so unidentifiable that Dr. Fox calls it “very very fine dirt stuff” or a “a fine piece of canoodle.” It’s all good for the quest where levity and humor are required, not optional.
My final gift yesterday came from Chris McDermott, a JPAC Historian with whom I have corresponded for several years. He brought me his little thumb drive (which is exactly the miracle my dear son-in-law suggested) on which he had stored a file he shared with me. It is entitled, 14201 Deferred Search File. It contains surprising proof that a team much like JPAC in composition and mission was sent to Europe in the years following the war to search for crash sites and missing men. This was news to me as our family was unaware of this effort. My mother told me that they heard rumor to this effect but nothing that would lead them to think a search had ever been conducted on my father’s behalf. It seems fitting and honorable that JPAC is here now to finish the job. It is also important to mention that through the efforts of Hans-Guenther Ploes and his team (which included enthusiastic and hopeful moi), JPAC knows where to dig.
Tomorrow is another day in Torgau and perhaps we will have pictures.
Die Tochter eines amerikanischen Piloten
In posting the list of yesterday’s ACS, a few salient points emerge. In and of themselves, the parts listed are most probably listed accurately as determined by educated opinion, some speculation, and brazen guessing based on what has been seen and learned from exhaustive study of P-38 parts catalogues. Remember: my father and the pilots like him had to know their planes well enough to fix them and my father enjoyed working on his own plane. Thus, the parts catalogues which serve us so well now, were his plane bible.
The point of all this part sorting and sifting is to determine when we are finding parts from the cockpit. The cockpit is the pot of gold at the end of this rainbow. All the parts that I and the German wreck hunters hold so dear are inconsequential to the team’s goal except as indicators. All the pieces that emerge from sifting are tossed into buckets, looked over and sometimes licked (yes licked) by the archeologist. He mutters something about scientific spit, makes a decision, and usually and summarily tosses them into a discard pile. Discard meaning nobody can have them until conclusions are drawn and everything has been assessed.
Each day I find a piece that speaks to me in a meaningful way. Yesterday, it was a little jagged flat shard of bakelite (pre-plastic used in the 1940’s) which Hans Guenther told me was from the instrument panel. He said it would definitely have been one of the last things my father looked at in his life.
As time expanded yesterday to include all that happened along with a copious amount of discovery at the “crash feature,” (remember the definition from yesterday? There will be a test later) I stand firmly in the midst of this distortion– this oblique distortion wherein I am rooted in the moment while drawing from history. Paradoxical thinking is the requirement for having this make sense. There is no way even with technology and adjustment to time and place to do it with less complexity. It’s simply surreal work – going backwards in time and piecing history together in this way. It’s scientific and intuitive. It’s emotional and factual. It’s dissociative and concrete. It’s joyous and devastating to find important stuff in the screens when each indicate my father’s catastrophic death.
The plane parts are from a magnificent plane my father called his “iron bird.” To anyone else, it is a pile of rubble. The engine parts are still daunting and heavy, now covered with rust and corrosion. It is easy to imagine their former-power. For the P-38 pilots who flew with my father, my adopted dads, it won’t take much imagination to remember the definitive sound of these huge Allison engines.
As I work in my father’s field, the guys from my father’s fighter group are with me. I swear I saw Bill Capron yesterday leaning against the fence telling a story about flying over France. I wonder what they would make of this if they were here and if it makes them sad when they read the list. This was a complex and mighty piece of machinery built to fly low and fast. The pilots were brave, smart, and competent beyond description. On the field, we speak of these men, of this plane, and we see both quite clearly as we work. It is a plane smashed into a million pieces yet we think of it as whole. It’s mighty spirit lives on in each fragment and rivet we find.
I moved between parts and being part of a documentary film. It is a far less daunting experience than expected due to the professionalism of the Der Spiegel team. They were easily integrated into our daily rhythms and were facile in their ability to be where the action was which was copious yesterday. They did two days of filming in one day and they will return within the week for the rest. We all enjoyed having them around and Dr. Fox declared them “unobtrusive.” That’s like receiving a blessing from the pope.
Reporter, Christopher Gerisch and I had lunch at a nearby fine restaurant yesterday: McDonalds (they have ice). Christopher tells me that the last scenes of the documentary will be filmed at Arlington National Cemetery where I hope to have my father’s memorial service. He also told me that they will prepare an English version for American sale and distribution. I suggested that Robert Redford c/o Sundance should surely be sent a copy. (smiling a diva smile)
The German way of making documentaries is not to emphasize the dramatic with big music and slow-motion action scenes but to create more of an historical yet personal story. I expect the stories told by the people and the camera are dramatic enough in this case.
In the middle of all that swirled around me yesterday, I chipped one of my teeth which is beginning to seem like an annual European event. The last time I did this I was standing in the middle of St. Peter’s in the Vatican and had to find a Roman dentist who charged me 300 Euro. Needless to say, I expected the same yesterday when Ernst found me a local dentist, made the appointment, and then accompanied me to the office. The dentist did his Bondo and light magic (I know what to expect) and pronounced the entire procedure “free for the American piloten’s tochter.” I had no choice but to hug the surprised dentist and give him the Team Estill hat I was wearing.
As though I hadn’t received enough presents, Rodney, our medic, presented me with one more when he said, “Mam, I know you don’t have your father’s dog tags so I want you to have this.” From the chain holding his own dog tags, he removed another one on which was inscribed on one side with these words:
PEOPLE FIRST – MISSION ALWAYS
JPAC STANDARD
DO WHAT’S RIGHT
ALWAYS CARE THE MOST
OPERATE THE BEST
GET BETTER EVERY DAY
[On the other side it says]
“Until They Are Home”
JPAC VALUES
Commitment, Integrity, Respect, Compassion, Honor
I am overwhelmed with this gift. I hope it gives you as a participant in this mission an idea of the kind of people on the JPAC teams. To a person, these code of ethics and beliefs have been expressed to me and were made clear to the documentary filmmakers yesterday. How, I wondered, could there be any more bittersweet joy in this event for me?
I will close this reporting of miracles and surprises with this small inadequate nod of appreciation to my dear friend and constant companion, Ernst Eberle. Due to Ernst’s generous spirit and selfless donation of time and patience, I am flying in a place where I would otherwise flounder. He is easy to be with and always speaks his truth. I am grateful beyond compare for his generous wisdom and language.
To be continued………………….
Rain is the only problem on 25 August: Work stopped in the middle of a rain storm that arrived around 3:00. We were off t he field by 3:15 and I finished my interview with Alexander Bischoff, Correspondent (a real one) from Morgen Post. We were all part of the television news as Sylvia Krause a freelance journalist photographed and interviewed everyone. Local reporter, Nico Wendt, wrote an interesting article for today’s paper in which he invited anyone who might be have acquired any of my father’s personal possessions after the crash, to anonymously leave them at the newspaper office. He wrote specifically about my father’s missing pilot’s watch and a ring another eyewitness saw at the crash site in 1945.
This is one of those things where it occurs to me to pray to Tony or to wonder at my own sanity for having any hope that these items would be returned. One reporter shook his head in amazement that I would even consider this possible. I suggested that he glance out the window at the field and tell me what is impossible. I have great faith in the good people of this community. If those items (and/or others belonging to my father) still exist and the article is read by the right person, they will be returned to me. If not, I can live with the fact that an attempt was made.
The parts from the deepening crater are large and ominous. There was a large piece of one of the engine mounts and after it was somewhat cleaned, the engine piece that fit into it matched perfectly. The metal plate identifying the aircraft would have been on one of the engines. That would be an important find.
The collection of bone fragments grows as does the importance of careful and laborious screening. It’s imperative to stay vigilant and not to discard anything questionable. There is much consulting about this.
As to when is this finished, a question I ponder each day, I can only surmise that when enough is found to make a case for identification or conclusion, the field will be restored. For now, we are still in the process of finding what lies beneath the “crash feature.” Some of the stuff is so unidentifiable that Dr. Fox calls it “very very fine dirt stuff” or a “a fine piece of canoodle.” It’s all good for the quest where levity and humor are required, not optional.
My final gift yesterday came from Chris McDermott, a JPAC Historian with whom I have corresponded for several years. He brought me his little thumb drive (which is exactly the miracle my dear son-in-law suggested) on which he had stored a file he shared with me. It is entitled, 14201 Deferred Search File. It contains surprising proof that a team much like JPAC in composition and mission was sent to Europe in the years following the war to search for crash sites and missing men. This was news to me as our family was unaware of this effort. My mother told me that they heard rumor to this effect but nothing that would lead them to think a search had ever been conducted on my father’s behalf. It seems fitting and honorable that JPAC is here now to finish the job. It is also important to mention that through the efforts of Hans-Guenther Ploes and his team (which included enthusiastic and hopeful moi), JPAC knows where to dig.
Tomorrow is another day in Torgau and perhaps we will have pictures.
Die Tochter eines amerikanischen Piloten
posted by Team Estill From the Field at
11:35 AM
