I do not remember all this story, but I think I have most of it right.  Before my mother was my mother, she was the Belle of Central Florida.  Boys fought (literally) for the privilege of taking her out.  In a time when the population was much smaller, it was only natural that some of the boys were kin.   

My mother somehow met Halcott Smith, cousin of my father, King Kong Smith.  Halcott was home on leave during World War II from the 101st Airborne and apparently squired my mother around a time or two.  When it was time in 1943 for Halcott to ship out overseas, he gifted my mother a watch, with two small diamonds, as a sign of his affection.  My father, who also had begun to show an interest in my mother, decided to up the ante and bought my mother another watch: this one had four small diamonds.  

I do not believe my mother and Halcott were ever serious.  In any case, absence did not make my mother’s heart grow fonder.  After a stormy courtship, Mama and Daddy married on September 11, 1945, after the war was over.  I remember Mama wearing the watch Daddy gave her through most of my childhood. 

Halcott Smith, my father’s cousin, never made it home from World War II.  He was part of the 502nd Parachute Infantry Regiment.  That regiment was dropped behind enemy lines at Utah Beach on June 6, 1944, D-Day.  Halcott’s Company “D” was one of the lucky ones.  Parts of “A” Company were dropped into the English Channel and drowned.  His company joined with other elements and secured a safe landing for the 4th Infantry Division. 

The 502nd was later tapped for one of the most daring missions of the European Theater: Operation Market Garden.  A British plan, it called for the paratroopers to jump into the Netherlands, seize control of key roads, bridges, and communication cities, and split the country in half.  This would enable the British army to move through the country to the German border.  This daring drop would be done in daylight.  Halcott Smith was one of the thousands of brave men who hurled themselves from airplanes onto the Dutch soil. 

Much debate surrounds Operation Market Garden.  While it failed to seize key objectives, it succeeded in pushing the Germans back, ultimately leading to their retreat.  The battle was largely wrapped up by early October, but troops were still engaged with the withdrawing German army. 

Sometime on October 27, 1944, a German bullet found Halcott.  He died on foreign soil, fighting under an American flag, battling against the evil of Nazism.  I really do not know any more than that, although I am sure that someone in my family remembers the specifics.  Like thousands of Americans who died in World War II, Halcott was buried a long way from Hardee County, Florida, at the Netherlands American Cemetery.  His grave is marked by a plain white cross, noting his name, state of origin, unit, and date of death.   

As Memorial Day approaches, it is tempting to forget men like Halcott, dead now over 75 years.  Fresh stories of other battles, other casualties, and other deaths make us mourn.  There is, however, a powerful injunction from Job, a cry of lament as he mourns his own condition.  It is the lament of every soldier killed far from home: “Earth, do not cover my blood; may my cry never be laid to rest!” Job’s lament is a cry to be remembered.   Soldiers, sailors, and airmen, know the risks when they swear an oath to protect and defend the constitution of the United States.  If called upon to make the supreme sacrifice, they want to know their death is not in vain; they want to know they will be remembered. 

Not too long ago, my sister-in-law Jo, my wife Gina, and I were going through the contents of the family safety deposit box.  There were bags of old coins, paid-off mortgages, and some of my mother’s jewelry that had not been divided among the grandchildren.  There was one old lumpy envelope bearing my mother’s handwriting: “Watch.”  I opened it, and out slid an old watch – with two small diamonds on either side.  For all these years, Mama had kept Halcott’s watch.  Maybe it was her small way of saying, “I will not forget.  I will remember you.” 

I put the watch back in the envelope, back in the safety deposit box.  Though Halcott died before my parents married, before I was ever born, I decided we needed to keep the watch.  He, along with thousands of others, deserves to be remembered.