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May 2008
A HERO’S WELCOME
By: Larry Duffy
Creative Director
I have always been fascinated by World War II. The enormity of the war, the clarity of the cause and the all encompassing hardships, suffering and sacrifice that the world endured are astounding. As a kid growing up in the sixties and seventies my childhood was steeped in the lingering remembrance of those colossal events. Everything from the games we played to the movies we watched were directly related to the war, which demonstrates the enormous impact it still had on lives 20 or 30 years after its end. As a kid countless hours were spent either playing with army men, GI Joes or running through the neighborhood with toy guns recreating battles we watched in the movies. Even in the days when your television only offered half a dozen channels you could hardly turn it on on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon without finding The Great Escape, Tora Tora Tora, or some other movie concerning the war. As I grew older I spent many hours constructing model ships and planes of the war. With great attention to detail I would build them and paint them only to eventually destroy them with fire or firecrackers as adolescent boys are prone to do. From all these youthful experiences I fostered an enduring appreciation for the machinery of that war, especially the sleek and elegant aircraft which remain marvels of design to this day. Along with this appreciation for the machinery of World War II, I also developed a romantic and glorified view of the war itself. After all in the movies men were performing great and heroic deeds against truly nefarious enemies and when the worst happened and a bullet found them it was as if they simply went to sleep, quickly and quietly.
With age sometimes comes wisdom and the older I got the more I came to understand the brutal realities of war. Young people feel they will live forever which aside from prime physical ability is the reason they get sent off to wars. The older you get the more precious life becomes as your understanding of just how fleeting life is grows. What every young soldier who’s been through war realizes is that at best it is chaos, carnage and cruelty. At its worst, it is utter madness.
This is why every soldier who has fought and died and every soldier who has fought and survived should be honored and remembered. One of those heroes who fought and survived is Frank Clark. You may have read Frank’s story when Bill McClellan wrote about him in his Post Dispatch column back in January 2008. Frank typifies that greatest generation, citizen soldier who was eager to join the military after Pearl Harbor. Upon graduating high school in 1943, he joined the Marine Corps at just age 17. Frank had two older brothers who were already in the service. Harvey “Pat” Clark was a tail gunner on a B-26 Marauder with the 386th Bomb Group in the European theater. Charles B. Clark was a bombardier/navigator on a B-24 Liberator with the 307th in the South Pacific. Charles H. and Ivah Clark of Wellston now had three sons in harm’s way.
In October 1944, Charles B. Clark, a decorated lieutenant with 33 missions under his belt was flying with his bomb group to a target near Borneo. The official report states that Charles’ plane #933 was seen trailing gasoline vapors from its open bomb bay doors as it fought to catch up with its squadron. A Nakajime Kl-44 Shoki, a Japanese bomber interceptor nicknamed “ToJo” by the allies came in at two-o’clock and fired its 20 mm canon into Charles’ plane. Another bomber in the group whose tail gun was disabled and waist gun out of ammo reported carrying ammunition from the tail of the plane to the waist gunner position to try and fight off the fighters attacking already crippled plane #933. They succeeded in shooting up one of the Japanese fighters but the damage was done and Charles Clark’s plane was last seen hurriedly losing altitude and trailing black smoke. That’s how Frank lost his 23 year old brother Charles B. Clark.
The circumstances surrounding the death of Frank’s brother Sergeant Harvey M. “Pat” Clark are even more harrowing. On a bombing mission over Germany the lead plane of a group at a higher altitude inexplicably slowed allowing the group of bombers below them to slide under their formation. In a tragic circumstance of bad timing all to common in the confusion of war, the planes above released their bombs which fell perilously close to the second lower altitude group with all bombs missing that group but one. The plane of Harvey “Pat” Clark was struck by a 250 lb. bomb that exploded amidships sending it crashing to the earth without survivors. In a terrible bit of irony that demonstrates how indiscriminate the give and take of life is during wartime, the regular navigator on that flight had been grounded for training while another young lieutenant took his position on that fateful mission. Harvey “Pat” Clark’s demise at the age of twenty-eight came just two months after the death of Charles.
Meanwhile Frank Clark was training as a radio operator with a signal company of the Fourth Marine Division. In February of 1945 he participated in one of the most brutal battles of World War II, the assault on Iwo Jima. By the Grace of God, he survived and was on the island when the American flag was raised on Mount Suribachi. In June of 1945 Frank received orders to return to the states areas after his mother applied for him to be moved into a non-combat area. She had already lost two sons and did not want to lose a third.
As a father, I can’t imagine the heartache of losing a child to war. I am of that privileged generation who missed the draft and spent his teens and twenties in that relatively peaceful post-Vietnam, pre-Iraq period. There are many families who take great pride, deservedly, in a long succession of military service. My own father just missed World War II but fought in Korea. I am thankful that due to circumstance I will never have to worry about my own son fighting in a war. I am the grateful recipient of a privileged way of life that has been afforded me by the sacrifices of people like the Clark Brothers, my father and uncles, and millions of other men and women who have served and continue to serve our military.
Jake and Rick Jacobs, owners of T. Alderson’s Cities Service Diner here in New Town share that appreciation. Their 40’s era diner includes an ever-growing number of photos of those who have served their country past and present. That is why I contacted Bill McClellan after reading his moving account of the Clark Brothers and a painting of these three heroes. An artist named Robert Lawrence Rigsby had married the Clark Brothers’ sister Marjorie. As the Clark Brothers sent photos of themselves in uniform home, Mr. Rigsby assembled them into a striking portrait. Ivah Clark hung this portrait of her sons proudly in her living room. Imagine how alternately difficult and comforting it must have been to look at it after losing her two boys. Ultimately the painting ended up with Frank. Mr. McClellan’s article expressed Frank’s concern with what would become of it. I thought T. Alderson’s Diner would be the perfect setting considering the theme and the fact that it would be viewed by so many people. Knowing full well the response that the McClellan article would generate I contacted Mr. McClellan who forwarded my request to Mr. Clark. Frank graciously thanked us for our interest but said that the Soldier’s Memorial downtown was interested in displaying the painting, which was obviously the appropriate place for the painting to reside.
Mr. Clark sent me some photos of the painting and I asked if we might not copy one and display it in the diner anyway and he responded that he would be honored. We took the photo and printed it on canvas at half size the original, framed it and Jake hung it prominently above the counter in the diner. Soon after that Frank brought his wife Nadine and some friends out to the diner to see the painting. It was very gratifying to meet Frank in person, shake his hand and thank him for the sacrifices his family made. They stayed for lunch soaking up the nostalgic environment of T. Alderson’s and sharing stories of the war. Jake of course was a gracious host and was met with resistance when he offered to buy lunch for the group. Frank being of that generation who asked for nothing but offered so much couldn’t understand why Jake wanted to buy his lunch.
The lunch was the simplest of thank you, just like a handshake or the displaying of the painting. Unfortunately, there are not enough adequate ways to say thank you to these men and women who serve. There is however one way you can thank them. When you come into T. Alderson’s Diner and gaze up at those dashing young men in the painting, take time to tell your children of their story and their sacrifice. That’s Charles on the left and Pat on the right with Frank in the middle. Remember them and remember that every photo on the wall has a story to tell.
Thanks to Bill McClellan and Frank Clark for providing information for this story.
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