Tragedy on the Homefront

The United States Navy regrets to inform you…

     When we see military markers and the date of death falls within a specific war, we often assume that the serviceman or woman died in battle. Albert Andy Holmans is one of the exceptions that prove that isn't always the case.
 
    18-year-old Albert was an aviation radioman, third class in the United States Naval Air Force. He was one of five officers and enlisted men killed in a PBY Catalina bomber that crashed and burned as it attempted to take off near San Diego Bay. Six other members of the crew were rescued.

     The Catalina PBY is the most famous Navy long-range patrol 
bomber, reconnaissance and rescue boat of World War II.

     When searching through old newspapers within a two week period of this crash, I was shocked to find numerous accounts of bomber crashes on home soil. It's heartbreaking to think that the families of these victims probably felt relatively secure abut their loved ones safety since they had not departed for "action."What a shock it must have been. 

    Albert was the youngest son of Charles Albert Holmans and Marion Palmer. His father died from appendicitis when Andy was only three years old.

     According to a family member, his mother was unable to financially care for the children, so they were split up. Douglas, Pearl and James traveled by train to Fort Worth to live at the Masonic Home and School of Texas. The two older brothers, Charles and William (Bill) were "too old" to live at the Masonic home, so they "made it on their own."

Masonic School & Home, Fort Worth, Texas

     Because he was so small, Albert was sent to live with his widowed, maternal grandmother  Marion Moore, and his uncle John Palmer. 

     All five boys served in the armed forces during World War II.

    Albert was survived by his mother, Mrs. James McBride of Houston; his grandmother, Mrs M. More of Dickinson; a sister, Mrs Pearl Dement of Columbus Ohio; four brothers (Charles, William, Douglas and James) and his uncle John Palmer of Dickinson and other aunts and uncles.

     Of the family of six children, the surviving five went on to live productive lives and have families of their own. Quite impressive considering the rough start the endured.

     Albert rests in the serene Fairview Cemetery of League City, Texas. His poignant epitaph reads, "My loves goes with you and my soul awaits to join you." 

     One wonders if his mother, who missed precious years with her youngest child, chose the inscription.

The Stories Behind the Stones

Walking through the cemetery with my grandfather was far more fascinating than opening a storybook.

Growing up, I spent part of every summer at my grandparents' farm in Oklahoma. At some point during each visit we would make the rounds to area cemeteries where family members rested. I knew stories behind each name in the family from my grandmother telling me (sometimes exaggerated) tales about them. After decorating each grave, my grandmother often wanted time alone with them to talk, so I would wander off to other rows of gravestones with my grandfather.

Then the fun would begin.

My grandfather was left to live on the streets of the small town when he was only a few years old. My best estimate from records show that he was only seven. Although it was a horrifying thought to me, he never complained or bemoaned his early life. He made his way doing odd jobs and taking shelter where he could, until he became established. Because of this and his wonderful character, he knew everyone in town.

As we passed each stone, he would slow his pace, point, and say, "Oh, now there's old man so-and-so. He owned the livery stable in town and let me sleep in the loft in exchange for me cleaning out the stalls. His wife was so kind and always made sure I had a biscuit in my pocket to start the morning."

I would follow him down the rows, fascinated by these peeks into his history until grandmother would say that it was time to go.

Over forty years later, I'm still curious to learn the stories behind the stones I find in my cemetery-seeking adventures. Some cemeteries I visit to work on genealogy, but many I stop into just to find the stories and artwork of the stones.

Some may think it's a creepy, or at the very least…strange hobby. But I've learned and photographed some amazing things. I've also found that there are actually others who share my love for old cemeteries.


So here we go…a new blog to share some of the things that I find. Hoping that you will enjoy the journey as much as I do. Happy hunting!