Memorial Day

by Donna Andrews of the Femmes Fatales.

I’m honoring Memorial Day, as I usually do, by thinking about three men: Coleman Hornsby, Stanley Hornsby, and my dad.

Luther Coleman Hornsby (September 6, 1892 to November 14, 1918).  He was my great uncle--the older (by four years) brother of my grandfather, William Henry Hornsby, Jr.  He never married and has no descendants, and anyone who ever met him would be dead by now, so I figure someone has to remember him. I’m hoping one of these days I’ll find a picture of him, but in the meantime, this is what I’ve got. His unit number: Company A, 2nd Division, 9th Infantry. His draft registration. His grave. As the family members would tell it, he was wounded on Armistice Day, before the word had gotten out to the troops that the war was over, and died three days later. Sometimes I try to imagine what that was like for the family--especially his mother, because sometimes the old folks would say that he was always his mother’s favorite. Celebrating the joyous news that the war was over and “our boys” would be coming home. Then hearing the dreadful news that hers wouldn’t. Of course, the old folks also used to shake their heads and say that he’d have broken his mother’s heart if he’d lived. They didn’t say much about why. Coleman--he always went by that--probably had the teasing sense of humor that so many of his family had. Maybe he was a bit of a rebel.  I may never know. 

There’s a family tale that his brothers knew he was courting someone, but being very secretive about it--all they knew was the general direction he’d be heading when he left the house. So one day when they were coming home from something in that part of the county, they slackened the reins and gave the horse his head . . . and were overjoyed when, sure enough, he turned in at a lane where they knew a pretty girl lived.  The only other story I know about him is that one winter his father sent him out to chop down a Christmas tree. It was bitter cold and he didn’t feel like traveling far . . . so he chopped down the top six or eight feet of a tall evergreen tree, one of dozens of matching trees lining the lane to a farmer’s house. The farmer didn’t catch him . . . but not long after, Coleman’s father ended up buying that same farm. And every time he drove down that lane, he’d look up and mutter what he’d do if he ever caught the miserable son-of-a-gun who mangled one of his otherwise beautifully matching trees. I gather no one ever told Coleman’s secret, because he survived to serve in World War I

Stanley Montgomery Hornsby, Jr.  (June 6, 1925 to November 23, 1944) He lived in Norfolk, Virginia. Enlisted October 18, 1943 in Richmond, Virginia. I now have his obituary, and a (bad) picture of him in his uniform.  From the Newport News Daily Press, December 14, 1947.

Pvt. Hornsby Funeral Today

The body of Pvt. Stanley M. Hornsby, Jr., 19, son of Mr. and Mrs. Stanley M. Hornsby, 4903 Dove St., Norfolk, who was killed in action in Germany, Nov. 23, 1944, has been returned home from the Henri Chapelle Military cemetery, Belgium on the army transport, Robert F. Burns.

Young Hornsby has two aunts and two uncles who include Mrs. L.O. Powell of Seaford; Mrs. E. E. Slaight of Yorktown; W. H. Hornsby of Yorktown and O. F. Hornsby of Richmond.

He was a graduate of Maury high school, a class of 1940. He played the violin in the Maury high school orchestra, was present of the Bain Literary society, and represented the school in his junior and senior years in the debating contests held at the University of Virginia and the public speaking contests held in Norfolk. He later attended the College of William and Mary. 

He entered the army in November, 1943, as an ASTP student but was prevented from attending college by the interruption by the army of this program.

He received his infantry training at Fort Benning, GA., and at Camp Livingston. He went over seas in September, 1944, serving with the First division, 26th infantry.

He was a member of the Park Place Methodist church and was an only child.

Funeral services will be held at the H.D. Oliver Funeral home, Colonial Ave. at Shirley, Sunday at 2 p.m. with the Rev. John H. Pearson, D.D., pastor of Ghent Methodist church officiating. Burial will be made in Forest Lawn cemetery, Norfolk.

I think they’re wrong about him graduating in 1940, because he’d only have been 15 then. Of course, maybe he did finish high school at 15--my mother, his first cousin, did. I’ll put that on my list of things to find out. 

What I never realized before finding this obituary: He lasted less than three months over in Germany. He only spent a year and thirty-six days in the army. And--this I already knew--he was an only child. My mother always thought it broke Stanley Senior--he was never the same.

And finally, my dad, Jay Donald Andrews (September 9, 1916 - October 28, 2004). As you’ll deduce from his date of death, Dad wasn’t killed in action, although he came damned close at least once.  When he was headed over to the Philippines in, I think, 1944, his army transport ship was hit by a kamikaze plane. A lot of soldiers died, and I’m sure they were all watching the skies as their badly damaged ship limped on alone to its destination--the rest of the convoy went on, full steam ahead, because traveling at the speed of a crippled ship was a good way to get even more people killed. Later he was awarded a bronze star for meritorious service on the island of Luzon between January and August 1945. I looked up what was happening in the Philippines at that time--MacArthur was retaking the islands, inch by bloody inch. I have a feeling meritorious service was no picnic.

But when we were at the funeral home going over the arrangements for his funeral, one of the staff there said, “And he’s a veteran, so you’ll want a flag, of course.”

“No,” Mom said. “He was very clear about that. He said that was for those who had given more.”

She didn't come out and say it, but we all knew what Dad meant by giving more. Those who never came home. Like her uncle Coleman and her cousin Stanley Junior. 

I like to include him anyway.

 

 

Comments

[Tim Smith]

Stanley Hornsby was killed in the fighting in the Huertgen Forest with the 1st Division. It was a horrible, lengthy battle with a lot of casualties in the American Divisions that fought there. We have his name and Luther Coleman Hornsby on our War Memorial Monument on Main Street in Yorktown VA.

[Jim Bowman]

Wow, thanks for sharing this! My father's first cousin (and close boyhood friend), was also only child and, member of Army Air Corps bomber crew, killed in WWII (shooting accident by friendly fire). And my father survived his WWII Navy service in Okinawa - ship sunk by typhoon. And he rarely spoke about it. You and I were classmates in Mrs Ray's first grade class at Yorktown Elementary. Thanks again for the Memorial Day memorial.

[Donna]

Tim, thank you! I was just starting to brainstorm on how to figure out what battle Stanley Junior was killed in--now I can read up on Huertgen Forest. Having grown up in Yorktown, I've seen the memorial--must visit it next time I'm down there.

And Jim, hello. I remember Mrs. Ray--and Miss Gregory, who took over for her when she had her surgery at the end of the year. How strange to see Yorktown Elementary turned into county offices.