August 31, 2010
A few days ago, one of you sent me an email about a Czech Republic woman named Zdenka (Dena) Sladkova who had taken care of the crash site where Lt. Virgil P. Kirkham was killed in WW II attacking a truck convoy near the towns of Trhanov/Ujezd which is at least 66 Km from Pilsen/Plzen, Czech Republic which is only a stones throw from the German border. It is reported by Lt. Kirkham's brother, Marion, that Virgil was the last Allied combat aviator to be killed in action in the European Theater during WW II.
If you can not see this geography in your head, check out: Map
Our worlds are beset with some of the strangest accidents of history and this is one. In the past, I have poked fun at my dear friend Rex Decker and his unshakable talent to spend not much more than 30 seconds with another human being and to discover, to everyone’s happiness, that he has millions of strings of historic experiences that emanate from his being and sweep the cosmos looking for matching strings of other existence. That’s a lot of BS meaning Rex can talk to anyone about anything. The strings of historic experiences, however, seem to me to be very real. Whoever sent me that email, whipped one of his strings across one of mine and I could not help but cast my strings to the local area to see what would happen. The results were mind bending.
Here is my story.
I read the email. It’s not enough! I do the Google thing on Lt. Virgil P. Kirkham while I am waiting for breakfast in the Paris Hotel in Prague, Czech Republic. This is a place of near misses. It’s most important miss is that the Islamic invasion of Europe stopped in Vienna and never got this far west in eastern Europe. So no Islamic problems like the rest of Western Europe are now enjoying.
The second miss is not so lucky. In 1938, the Sudetenland, a ragged chunk of land populated by ethnic Germans and which wraps itself around the Sudeten Mountains is part of Bohemia and Moravia in the then Czechoslovakia. The Council of Munich, September 29, 1938, attended by Great Britain, Germany, Italy and France agreed to allow Hitler to annex the Sudetenland without military conflict. Czechoslovakia was not present at the Conference and was the subject of a long historical list of Europe appeasing tyrants because they fear the wars that ultimately engulf this portion of the planet. Three million Czech citizens became German citizens over night.
The third miss: The fogs of war during the competition between the US and the USSR towards the end of the second WW finds Prague in Russki hands and Pilsen, one hour to the west falls into the hands of the16th Armored Division of V Corps commanded by BG John L. Pierce. Google does its job and I start more casting.
Ho Hum right? Well not if you live in Pilsen under the Germans for six years. When the 16th Armored entered Pilsen, America may have created its most ardent champion. Americans could and can do no wrong in this place. So in this environment, we end the life of Lt. Kirkham. Virgil, strafing the convoy, is hit in the face by German small arms fire and his P-47 crashes into the mountains a single click (1000 meters) from the little village of Ujezd and burns. A small 14 year old little girl in this village ran to the site and began a 65 year task of administering the condition of the site at which Lt. Kirkham perished. Why did Dena do this? Why? What was in it for her? I had to find out the answer to these questions and more.
There are time limits here. The time is now. In this place, at this time, at this meshing of the stars. It is impossible to comprehend how I, with just a modicum of curiosity, could let an opportunity of this kind pass me by without generating a level of regret that would have at its source my own lethargy and haunt me for the end of days.
So the tale continues.
Like most tails, this one has a host of characters. The first is our guide, Ms. Katerina Friedova of Kate, Ltd. Kate is our tour person here in Prague. I approached her and asked her to find out how I would find the site once I traveled to Pilsen. She said she did not know but that she would try to find out. The next day we were gone sight seeing most of the day and Kate was doing her research. Her first call was to the George S. Patton museum in Pilsen. After much discussion, they advised that there was a gentleman named George (Jiri) Lavicka who knew Dena well and might be able to guide me to the site. (Let me say from the outset, that Czech has so many consonants it is almost impossible to pronounce and my keyboard will not reproduce the symbols that might help.) So what you see is what you get.
I talked to George for the first time this AM on the phone and he spoke pretty good English. Much better than my Czech. He advised me that I would be able to recognize him at the bus station because he had a black patch over his left eye. We made plans on how we would meet and then both of us returned to our planning. All I had to do was turn left out of the hotel, walk a half a block and lower myself to the subway platform and catch the yellow west bound train to Zlicin and get off. Then buy a ticket for a bus from Zlicin to Pilsen. Piece-o-cake. An hour and a half later I am dismounting from the bus and there is George waiting for me on the platform as planned.
We exchanged greetings and moved out to the street where I got in the front seat of a VW crossover of some sort not seen in the states. I immediately noticed the odor of dog and George introduced me to his four month old German Shepard named “George” Yup dog and owner with same name. Both named after George S. Patton of Third Army fame, I assume.
George I and George II and I started a miserable cold, rainy drive to Trhanov/Ujezd where I met the timeless Dena Sladkova at a lively 80+ years. (As a note, I have included names of all the towns we drove through on our way to see Ms. Sladkova. Many are way out of focus because I took them through the window of a moving car in the rain. I only included them to give a taste of how different things can be from your own environment.) The girl who kept the crash site up until she was 79. Dena is very spry and slips herself and her umbrella into the rear seat. George II does not have a chance in the back seat and finds a comfortable place on the floor. George I drives the three of us for about three Kilometers into the hills and stops on the side of the road next to a two wheel oxen cart path that is, by now, a slippery, muddy, miserable mess. I am worried about Dena keeping her footing in this cold swamping trail. I need not have worried. Dena can walk the legs off of a camel and never have a drink. Unbelievable, she is. We slip and slid for somewhere between one half and three quarters of mile until we come upon the memorial site.
Physically, the site is incredibly underwhelming. Spiritually, emotionally and patriotically, it is a sounding brass not a tinkling cymbal. I lower myself to pull a set of water protected pictures from the rocks in the memorial. This pilot was just a kid. Younger than I when I went to war, much younger. The whole scene starts to press down on me. The cold, the rain, the dark and unfamiliar forest of this west Czech province and my own imagination force me to struggle to keep my voice from cracking when I ask George to tell Dena thank you for taking good care of this American pilot’s place of final commitment. Dena does not smile but grimly says you are welcome as translated by George. We take pictures and return to the car without a spoken word. See link below.
George invites me and our octogenarian companion for lunch at the only place in town. It was unique in its décor only because I had never been in a small town Czech restaurant before. We were greeted at the door by the glares of four guys at a table who looked as if they were leg breakers in the Russian mafia. Really cold. George I and George II paid no never mind and we sat at a table over looking a small but attractive lake. All three of us ordered black beer (it was terrific) two goulashes with bread dumplings and one roasted duck on purple sauerkraut. (In the Czech Republic, people take dogs everywhere) Dena went through her beer and goulash before George and I were half finished. George I reserved some of his chow for George II who wolfed (no pun intended) it down with enthusiasm. I don’t think I mentioned it before, but George II has two ears that continually flop to the middle of his head making an “X” on top of his head. This seems to bother no one. See link for pics of restaurant.
We said our good bys and hugged Dena with a final thank you. She, umbrella in hand, walked off down the narrow lane to her cottage where her daughter and her family shared a residence. There is no chance I will be able to see her again.
George I starts back to his house in Pilsen. I probably misspoke when I called it a house. It’s a shrine to the US Army and America. See pics. For Chuck Burhans: Check out the restored 1945 Willis jeep restored with funds from the George S. Patton family. He heats his house with wood in a ceramic fire box and his memorabilia continues from his garage into his house. It’s a very nice place. George presents me with a DVD he made about the Kirkham memorial and includes comments from Lt. Kirham’s brother, Marion. Marion is a regular visitor to George’s home. George also gives me a fine photo history of the WWII experiences in the Czech Republic and a list of license plates he would like for me to collect for him. I will need some help. Any of you folks have any license plates from any of the following states and DC in any condition that you would be willing to part with for George? [Delaware, DC, Rhode Island, New Hampshire or Massachusetts?]
Time is slipping buy and I need to head off to the bus station. George is not to be denied. We take off and he shows me the worlds largest Jewish Synagogue, he says. Holds 3000 folks and is in big demand for concerts because of the acoustics. We visit the 16th Armored Division monument, the 2nd Infantry Division's monument, the Thank You America monument, Amerika street, Roosovelt street, the city hall with an unbelievable production of the American flag, St. Bartholomew’s Church and the George Patton Museum of which George is a life long member. See the pics. We did all this in 45 minutes. George is one hell of a guide.
George gets me to the bus station with time to spare. We shake hands and part. An hour and half later I am in my hotel room stunned my experience. I sit down and start to write immediately.
I pause and consider:
If it were not for the email, this could never have happened.
If it were not for Kate and George, none of this could have happened.
What was Lt. Virgil Kirkham thinking when he took off that morning?
What did and does motivate Dena Sladkova to accomplish this selfless act of kindness?
I have more questions than I did when I started this quest. That’s the way things are and there is no going back. I have two regrets: One, I do not speak Czech. Two, all of you could not have been with me and shared the same emotions I did while all this was happening.
Here is the link to the original web site on Lt. Kirkham and Dena.
http://thebrigade.com/2010/08/26/thank-you-to-the-city-of-pilsen-20-photos/
Here is the link to my pics on Snapfish. One of the pictures you will see is two bronze heads and one silver egg shaped thing. The two heads are part of a fence that surrounds part of the St. Bartholomew church. The egg shape is part of the same fence but has been polished as you see it by passers by rubbing it for good luck. According to George, its mostly students hoping for good grades.
I know my text is long but perhaps you will feel some of the same things I did as I tried to put this together.
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