Two of the Many

On this Memorial Day, 2009, we should all pause to reflect on the many sacrifices that have assured our rights and freedoms in America. Some will enjoy a Memorial Day parade and perhaps attend a memorial service at a local cemetery. Volunteers, across the land, will be placing flags on the graves of a million or more veterans—many of them in the 128 National Cemeteries—and flying flags from their homes. It has become a fitting tradition that on this day we honor those who perished during time of war. We tend to focus on what we have gained through their sacrifice, but we ought to remember as well what we have lost. These gallant men and women were among the best that our country had to offer on the altar of peace. It boggles the mind to think what more we could have done with the benefit of their presence these many years.

William Edward Cramsie and Robert John Rooney were clearly exceptional young men. They had endured much to graduate from the U.S. Military Academy at West Point in June of 1943 and to earn their wings in the Army Air Corps. They were Irishmen and proud of their heritage. They also were room mates at the academy and close friends. They served with honor and distinction during WWII flying twin-engine attack bombers in the 416th Bomb Group. Both died in action tragically, and needlessly, under heart-wrenching circumstances. These were men that could have climbed almost any mountain and certainly would have been leaders in any field of endeavor that they chose. Their loss is striking to us, but must have been monumental at the time for those who knew, loved and admired them. Although we can look back into their lives and reconstruct events, or postulate actions and emotions, it is a feeble attempt at best to recapture the essence of who they were and what we have lost. The best that we can do today is to honor their memory as a very small tribute to them and to the many that they represent.

Class of June 1943

When Bill Cramsie reported to West Point in the summer of 1940, he was one of 590 young men who had ambitions of graduating from the U.S. Military Academy. They became the class of 1944. Due to the wartime demand for leaders in the field, Congress approved an accelerated program that scheduled the original class of 1943 (normally graduating in June) for early graduation in January of that year. The class of 1944 was accelerated by a full year, with a new graduation date of June 1943. Consequently, there were two graduating classes in 1943—January and June. Of the initial group, 514 received their diplomas and commissions in the U.S. Army as a 2nd Lieutenant. One of those who did not graduate was 1960s counterculture icon Timothy F. Leary.

The photo of cadet Cramsie posted here was shared by Tom Rickels, a son of Bill's sister Ruth. According to Tom, this photo hung on the bedroom wall of his parents for "as long as I can remember." It is a beautiful example of the technique known then as "tinting", which converted a black and white image to a color image. My maternal grandfather was a professional photographer and my mother learned to tint black and white photos as a young girl. I have several family photos from that era that she tinted. In fact, she taught me as a young boy to tint photos. It was a process that required great care, somewhat like oil painting, and I was unfortunately devoid of talent in that area. The photo tells us one fact about Bill Cramsie that surprisingly is omitted from any of the official records—the color of his eyes. We know from draft registration cards of his father and other family members that blue eyes were a genetic disposition, and the black and white photos of that era confirm that Bill's eyes were not a dark color. Still, the documention of their actual color comes from this photo alone.

First To Fall Video

This simple video is my first attempt at the medium. It was produced on a Macintosh computer using the iMovie application. It is nothing more than still photos presented in a slide show mode with accompanying audio—nothing at all fancy and there are no actual video shots in the clip. I plan on trying my hand at a more sophisticated version in the near future. The opening photo, which zooms in on the penetrating eyes of Bill Cramsie is the photo from his West Point class yearbook, the Howitzer. The following shot is a photo of the cadets assembled at the West Point Station of the West Shore Railroad on December 20, 1941 for Chrismas leave. The third image is a collage of Bill Cramsie, the Catholic Chapel Choir, Bill's West Point class ring and a bird's eye view of the academy grounds. This zooms into a digital recreation of the airplane that Bill flew on April 10, 1944 and went down with on that day in Bradwell Bay, near the mouth of the Thames River. The final segment scrolls words from the final stanza of West Point school song "Alma Mater". The clip is supported by the tune "Garyowen" (sic) by Contemplator's Folk Music. Garryowen was an Irish folk tune that was popular in America in the mid-19th century and became the main marching tune of George Armstrong Custer's 7th Cavalry. Custer was a West Point graduate and is buried at West Point. References to the tune are woven subtly through First To Fall.

The Ring

It would be difficult to overstate the significance of Ring Day in the life of a USMA cadet. The class ring is not only an emblem of achievement, it's a very personal symbol of the code by which graduates pledge to live their lives — a pledge of dedication to "Duty, Honor and Country." In fact, these three words are emblazoned on each ring as part of the coat of arms displayed in its impressive design. When I first held the class ring of Bill Cramsie in my hand, my initial thought was one of wonderment. How could such a magnificent and obviously cherished object be floating aimlessly, with no personal attachment? Although I had no connection to the ring whatever, I had an overwhelming feeling that it was "beckoning" me and my will to resist was losing ground fast.

I had heard that the ring was to West Pointers akin to a wedding ring. They rarely removed the ring from their finger. Colonel Richard Wheeler showed me very graphically how true that was. At a 416th Bomb Group reunion in 2006, he showed me his ring—it was worn to the point that one could hardly make out the detail of the designs. Dick Wheeler was a classmate of Bill Cramsie's and a close friend as well. They trained together, attended church together and flew together in combat. The contrast between Dick's heavily worn ring (that he has been wearing constantly since 1943) and Bill Cramsie's nearly pristine ring was a stark reminder that Cramsie had died young. Equally stark was the realization that this ring should be somewhere at the bottom of Bradwell Bay, where the body of its owner still lies. It was a very emotional (admittedly tearful) experience for both Dick and I as we stood there, rings in hand.

Dick Wheeler was given the sorrowful task and distinct honor of writing to Bill Cramsie's parents after his loss was confirmed. In that letter, Dick spoke of his friend's heroism and dedication to duty, honor and country. He mentioned how professional Bill was and how talented and well-liked he was by all who knew him. More than sixty years after that letter was written, I listened to Dick Wheeler recount that praise with unfailing recall. It was inspiring, but even more than that it made me realize how fortunate I was to be standing there hearing his words in person. In that brief instant, as the two of us stood there mesmerized by these two rings, the years were gone and we might as well have been standing on the flight line at Wethersfield. I knew at that moment that something very powerful was at work within me.

William Edward Cramsie

As a boy growing up in the Sierra Nevada foothills, where his immigrant Irish grandfather was a pioneer in the gold rush days, Bill Cramsie dreamed of nothing but flying. His sole ambition was to become a West Point cadet and an Army Air Corps aviator. Through extraordinary effort and persistence, he achieved that goal. He graduated from West Point in the class of June 1943. Thrust into the fury of World War II, that class became the most highly decorated class in the history of the academy. Lt. Cramsie was assigned to the 416th Bomb Group and began flying combat missions out of England in the Spring of 1944. On April 10th, the day after Easter, his aircraft was badly damaged by flak while attacking a V-1 Buzz Bomb site in Flanders. Making three heroic passes over the target, and being hit on two of those passes, the aircraft could not be coaxed back across the English Channel. Bill and his two gunners perished as their A-20 Havoc crashed into the sea. He was the first member of the West Point class of June 1943 to be killed in action -- the “First to Fall”. His body was never recovered, but his spirit lives on through the metaphysical power of an amazing artifact. After 60 years, the class ring of Bill Cramsie mysteriously appeared and prompted a major effort to learn and tell his story -- a story that can finally lay his spirit to rest. The story of Bill Cramsie is a story of triumph and tragedy, of honor and humility. It is also the story of an incredible journey in our own time, the author’s search for this young man, and the strangely metaphysical aspects that led to a spiritual bonding of the present with the past.