May 28, 2006 5 min read

A recent story in the Herald-Standard hit home for me. It involved the family of Staff Sgt. William Lowery of Republic, who was on a United States Army bomber in World War II, which crashed during a fierce storm in the Pacific. The Army couldn’t find the plane, which carried Lowery along with 10 of his comrades, and they were declared Missing in Action.

For years, Lowery’s family held out slim hope that he might have survived the crash and still be alive. However, those hopes were dashed in 2002 when a U.S. team of excavators and forensic archeologists found the tail of a plane still intact in a New Guinea ravine with the serial number on it. They also found skeletal remains with dog tags so the military was able to finally identify the soldiers, including Lowery, who had been on the missing plane.

The family was torn. On the one side, there was sadness that Lowery wasn’t alive. But on the other side, there was a sense of closure that this mystery had been solved and the family finally knew what happened to their long-lost relative.

They were also proud that Lowery’s remains were buried during a military ceremony at Arlington National Cemetery.

Younger family members talked about how they felt they knew Lowery because of all the stories they had been told about him. They recalled being told that he was intelligent and loved to joke around. There were also numerous photographs of Lowery, which kept his memory alive.

So, what does that story have to do with me?

Well, my mother had a brother, Joseph Seery, who also died in a plane crash during World War II. And much like the Lowery family, his memory was kept alive over the years through stories and photographs. Thanks to their efforts, Uncle Joe was as much a part of the family as any other aunt or uncle. He was remembered fondly by friends and relatives as a great guy who was liked by everyone. He was described as being a very caring person who always looked out for the younger members of his family. Like Lowery, he was also talked about as being intelligent with a great sense of humor.

Also like Lowery, he never married and had no children. But he left behind a loving family including his mother, three brothers and three sisters.

Often during family reunions, someone would get out a record that Uncle Joe had made shortly before he was killed. In it, he talked about how much he was looking forward to coming home and how he missed everyone.

However as much as everyone wanted to hear his voice, there was also much sadness as tears would begin flowing from my mother and other members of her family. In fact, everyone would get so sad that someone would have to change the subject and everyone would start talking about something else.

Unlike Lowery’s fatal flight, there was no real mystery about Uncle Joe’s death. Everyone knew he had died when his plane crashed in the mountains of Italy.

But reading the story about the Lowery family made me realize that I knew no details about my Uncle Joe’s fatal crash. Growing up, Uncle Joe’s death had simply been too painful for anyone to talk about. When his name did come up, it would only take a few sentences before the tears would begin flowing and someone would have to change the subject.

Unfortunately, my mother died several years ago and her memories are buried with her. My father is 85 and while he’s generally doing OK, he’s always had a difficult time talking about Uncle Joe. They were friends when they were younger, long before he married my mother. At this point, it seems pointless to dredge up sad memories for him. It’s the same for my aunt, who is the only surviving member of my mother’s family.

The most important thing, though, is to remember the millions of men and women, who have served their country proudly over the years in the armed forces, especially those like Uncle Joe and William Lowery who made the ultimate sacrifice.

I have vivid memories of going to Memorial Day services as a youngster. My grandmother would sit with the other Gold Star mothers, who lost sons in wartime service. There would be a reading of all the names of those who had been killed in World War II and my Uncle Joe’s name would inevitably be included. The tears would flow again from my mom and dad and other relatives. After the reading, the service would be concluded with the playing of Taps.

I was too young then to truly appreciate the sacrifices made by Uncle Joe and other veterans. But over the years, I started to appreciate more and more what our servicemen and servicewomen have done over the years to make our way of life possible and how much we owe them for all the freedoms we enjoy.

With Memorial Day being tomorrow, I’ll be attending one of the local services just like I always do. I figure it’s the least I can do to honor and remember Uncle Joe.

Mark O’Keefe is the executive editor of the Herald-Standard. O’Keefe can be reached by e-mail at mo’keefe@heraldstandard.com or by phone at 724-439-7569.