Читать книгу Flight of the Forgotten - Mark A. Vance - Страница 23

Working closely with Jack Ketchum’s widow, Bobbe, in Topeka, Kansas, I learned that her husband’s good friend, A.J. Crowley, another Eighth Air Force bomber pilot, might be located in Richmond, Virginia. A.J. and his wife had known Jack and Bobbe Ketchum during the war and Jack had mentioned him several times in his letters home from England. I therefore felt it was important to try and contact him to find out what he might know. There had been no contact between any of them since Jack’s crash in 1945, and Bobbe had never understood why.

I remember how excited I was that day to find A.J. Crowley still listed in the Richmond phone book as I dialed the number from my hotel room during an airline layover. A woman’s voice answered on the third ring and I immediately asked to speak to A.J. Crowley. Her cold response caught me completely off guard.

“He died six months ago. Who are you and what do you want?” she snapped.

Trying desperately to recover, I immediately began offering an explanation, certain my reason for calling would put her at ease. I was the nephew of Jack Ketchum’s tail gunner. That would be enough, I assumed. I could not have been more wrong.

“Do you want a piece of advice, mister?” she snarled after my initial attempt at an explanation. “You’ll never find out what happened to those men. My husband was there and saw the whole thing. They blew up right in front of him and you’ll never find out why!” she growled. “A.J. grieved for Jack Ketchum for years. He used to sit up at night in his chair and cry endlessly for him until he finally died of a heart attack. You’ll never find what you’re looking for, mister! I suggest you let it go!” she exclaimed. “Those were sad times and looking back at them won’t do anybody any good.” she added, slamming the receiver down.

Obviously, Mrs. Crowley somehow blamed Jack Ketchum for her own husband’s death even though her husband had outlived Jack Ketchum by over forty years. She also seemed well aware of the government’s sensitivity to the crash itself, but there was no way her husband had witnessed Jack Ketchum’s bomber explode on the ground. A second bomber must have exploded. There must have been two. She’d said with certainty, “A.J. was taxiing past Jack Ketchum’s airplane when it suddenly exploded right in front of him.” Regardless of that misunderstanding, she wanted no part of any of it. A follow up effort by Bobbe Ketchum herself two days later produced the same response, although the message was more civil.