Becoming aware of the 86th Chemical Mortar Battalion reunion through the great efforts of Rose and Art and Larry and Becky Pranger - also the alert response of son Steve to their website has made my day, if not 'my year'. My thanks to all of you.

Recently, I wrote about the lighter side of our means of our survival. To those who may have lost a loved one, to those of you who are yet suffering from the scars of war, let me assure you - I do remember.

I remember Frank Reed. He and I bunked together at Camp Swift. He was one of our first casualties in Normandy. (The memory is not pretty).

I remember Tom Balcerek. He and Beecher Burgess were in the same mortar crew. Beecher was called away to help with a Jeep. During his absence of a few minutes, Balcerek’s position was hit by an artillery shell. He lived long enough to get to an aid station. Beecher yet believes ‘divine intervention spared his own life”. I know Beecher is a good man. I have no reason not to believe Balcerek was a good man also.

I remember Lou Camagna, who was seriously wounded and never returned to join his many friends. I yet regret not making a better effort to contact him. I still have a picture of his beautiful sister Gloria.

I remember Walter Carter. He was a tough fun-loving guy. On our first pass Walt became a little rowdy. He and I went outside and walked around the block. Everything worked out OK. I considered him a good man and a reliable friend.

I remember Troy Edwards - another Virginia boy from a small town near Beecher’s home town. His (Troy’s) father could not accept or believe he was dead. Beecher visited his home. They talked of his son. After the talk his Dad seemed to accept the fact - his son was gone - but “the hurt never was gone”.

I remember Frank Duralja. He enjoyed being a part of all jokes and banter.

I remember Manus McLaughlin - a fun loving guy with a great smile - all the time.

I remember those who could not take any more - battle fatigue - uncontrollable fear - a sad sight.

I remember a replacement being with Lahey and I in the Hurtgen Forest. An artillery barrage of enemy fire began. Tree burst of these shells is a scary thing. Our replacement guy broke (down). He was incoherent. We never heard from him again.

I remember when it was over. Mother would crack my bedroom door to check on her son. She never understood how I could be looking at her - when she was being so quiet.

I remember being so embarrassed on my first job (on the mortar piece). Someone dropped steel on steel and I fell to the ground.

I remember trying to understand how a nation of people could be duped into believing that they were superior to every other person on earth.

Time gradually creeps away - along with a vivid memory. Now I am haunted by the names and faces that appear for a brief moment.

Signed,

D. A. Honeycutt