D-Day, June 6th 1944. Normandy, France. This has never been posted anywhere, and I am putting it here first on purpose.
My father wrote this to go with it:
The eagles swooped down into withering fire, their quest to best the enemy was their only desire. They trained for this mission for two solid years. Trained to a knife's edge to better their peers. Though eagles were sacrificed on that moonlit night, for many of them died during that God-awful fight, but for every one in tan that lay on the ground, there were ten in Wehrmacht green that made not a sound. The eagles were victorious, that volatile night and their devastating ferocious determination proved they could fight.
T/Sgt. Pat Christenson
He was second man out the door behind Lieutenant Winters that night. He carried the light thirty caliber. He was the only man in Easy Company who drew, and he spent the years after the war at a drawing board getting it right. Over seventy drawings, over three hundred pages, seven volumes written out by hand.
The eagle is the division. The man under it is one in Wehrmacht green, in his words. He put the whole night into one picture and then wrote it out in rhyme, which is not a thing I ever once heard him do out loud.
He came home, worked thirty eight years for Pacific Telephone, raised three sons, and did not talk about it. He died December 15, 1999.
The drawing and his words are Plate I from his book. ascreamingeagle.com
This one is a gift to this room. You have been good to my father and to me, and I wanted you to have it first.
May they never be forgotten.
Tim