A celebration of American freedom leads to a friendly-fire incident in the wake of French liberation. Decades later, French and American descendants come together to commemorate both the liberation and the loss.

Cruel irony can be exemplified by no event better than the crash of an observation plane on July 4th, 1944. As the 90th Infantry Division completed its push for the capture of Hill 122, a celebration of the Fourth of July led to friendly fire downing and ending the lives of pilot Alfred Howard and observer William Windeler. Though such an incident is rarely expected to contain a silver lining, as a result, collaboration between French and American legacies blossomed, the courage of even more liberating forces was honored, and a measure of healing was found.

Independence Day of 1944 must have been a red-letter day for the men of the 90th Division. On the 3rd of July, the 3rd Battalion of the 90th’s 359th Regiment liberated the village of Prétot. They fought as part of a general US Army push farther south of the Cotentin Peninsula, following the capture of Cherbourg on June 27th . Morale must have been at a rare high, between the turning tides in battle and the celebratory spirit of the holiday. Reportedly, Army headquarters gave permission “to every carbine, rifle, machine gun, or artillery gun” to fire at the sky in celebration (Levaufre). Sometime that day, pilot Captain Alfred Howard, and his observer, 2nd Lieutenant William Windeler, took off from an airfield near the Chateau de Franquetot in a Piper L4 “Grasshopper”.

William George Windeler, a resident of Oakland, California, was twenty-four in July of 1944. He attended Piedmont High, in Piedmont, California, then the University of California, where he earned his undergraduate degree. During his high-school and college years, he was well-known locally for his athletic prowess, as well as his community involvement as a Sea Scout leader. He enlisted in the Army immediately following his graduation from the University of California, and was sent overseas in April of 1943.

Thirty-one-year-old Alfred Ryland Howard, known to friends and family as Ryland, hailed from Houston, Texas. He was an accomplished young man, having graduated from Rice Institute, the University of Texas law school, and Stanford Military academy, and having served the city of Houston as assistant city attorney. He enlisted in the 36th Infantry Division’s field artillery Battalion in 1940. When he was sent overseas in March of 1944, he left behind his new bride, Edith Anson, whom he married in August of 1943. At that time, they were expecting their first child.

By the time Howard and Windeler took off on that fated Independence Day, their 344th Field Artillery Battalion had been temporarily separated from the 36th Infantry Division, and attached to the 90th Infantry Division to support the liberation of the Cotentin Peninsula. That day, they were intended to assist in directing the artillery firing on infamous Hill 122.

They were never able to land. Their Piper L4 was hit, and crash-landed in a farmer’s field near Prétot, tragically ending the lives of both servicemen. Howard was survived by his young widow, Edith, and his parents, Dr. and Mrs. A. Philo Howard. Windeler was survived by his parents, Mr. and Mrs. Robert Windeler.

While no definite cause for the crash is listed in the official records, servicemen present in the area on July 4th testified that the shell which took down Howard and Windeler’s aircraft came from an American gun– likely a 155mm Howitzer. With so many shells in the air, both celebratory and offensive, it was more than likely that an accident would occur. Still, no units claimed responsibility for a friendly fire incident. The wreck remained where it fell, abandoned, for decades, and eventually disappeared, along with the memory of Howard and Windeler. Almost.

That is, until the owner of the field where the Grasshopper crashed met with the French historian of the 90th Infantry Division, Henri Levaufre, to share the story. “I remember one day meeting with a local farmer in a village named Prétot not too far from Hill 122 who told us about the wreck of a US observation plane,” remembers Christian Levaufre, chairman of the Normandy 44-90th Infantry Division Association, and Henri’s son. “He had even kept a piece of the aircraft spar that he gave to us” (2024). The piece of the Grasshopper remained in the senior Levaufre’s possession until his passing in 2019.

In 2019, Ryland Howard, the baby whom Alfred and Edith had been expecting prior to Alfred’s death, got in touch with Henri. Henri was able to share that he was aware of the incident and knew the location, but he passed away soon afterward. Mr. Howard then got in touch with Christian directly. In order to surprise Mr. Howard upon his arrival, Christian explained that he was planning a visit to Normandy to look for the location of his late father’s crash, and requested Mr. Levaufre’s help. Mr. Levaufre agreed, withholding that he knew exactly the location of the crash, and that he even had a piece of the plane itself.

Surprised Mr. Howard was, and he was thrilled to see not only the site of the crash, but the chateau where his father spent his last night, on July 3rd, 1944. Mr. Levaufre was also able to give Mr. Howard the piece of the spar from his father’s Grasshopper, having recovered it from the depths of the senior Mr. Levaufre’s collection, and felt that Mr. Howard “was happy to bring it back to San Antonio and show it to his children,” these being Cpt. Alfred Ryland Howard’s grandchildren (2024).

Keeping it a secret from their father, these grandchildren soon also contacted Mr. Levaufre with the idea of setting up a memorial to their grandfather and Windeler at the site of the crash. Mr. Levaufre recommended that a place in downtown Prétot would be preferable, with space for parking and more foot-traffic, and offered to begin the process for them.

A small monument dedicated by the children of Lt. Gene Williams, a paratrooper who was killed in an early attempt to liberate Prétot, was already standing in a nice location, so Mr. Levaufre reached out to the mayor of Prétot, Mr. Thierry Renaud, for permission to place a similar memorial for Howard and Windeler nearby. Thus the creation of the monument began.

In the process, it was decided to also remember the other men of the 90th who liberated Prétot the day before Howard and Windeler were killed– those of the 3rd Battalion of the 359th regiment.

The memorial takes the final form of a rectangular marble stele, which bears a bronze plaque honoring Howard and Windeler, an aluminum silhouette of a Piper L4 like the one they flew, the 90th Infantry Division insignia, and a carved message to the men of the 359th. The combination of memorials and materials on one stone brings together the legacy of men who likely never met, yet, who fought with the same heart and the same patch for the same cause.

The inscriptions are all written in French, but translate to the following. First, for Howard and Windeler: “On July 4, 1944, a Piper L4 observation plane responsible for adjusting the fire of an artillery Battalion of the 90th Infantry Division was shot down near here, killing both crew members./ Pilot: Alfred Ryland Howard- Houston Texas/ Observer: William Windeler- Oakland California/ Never forget them, for they died for your freedom.” (Levaufre, 2024). Then, for the men of the 359th: “In memory of the men of the 90th Infantry Division who fell for the liberation of Prétôt on July 3, 1944” (Levaufre, 2024).

The entire process was kept a secret from Mr. Howard by his children, in order to surprise him once more, and the dedication was originally planned for the end of May, 2021. However, Covid-19 restrictions prevented the Howard family from traveling to France. Thus, the monument was pre-dedicated in May of 2021, and a final, official dedication occurred a year later, on May 28th, 2022, with the Howard family in attendance. Ryland Howard was shocked and delighted by the proceedings.

No descendants of William Windeler could be found, and because of this, Mr. Levaufre “brought Ryland with me to celebrate Memorial Day at the US cemetery, and we went to lay a flower on Windeler’s grave” (2024). According to the local American Battle Monument Commission Archives, the pair were the first to ever visit his grave.

The dedication shown by Mr. Howard and Mr. Levaufre is a beautiful exemplification of the silver lining to these events. The collaboration between their families demonstrates how acts of remembrance can bridge generations and cultures, from something as simple as the gift of a forgotten airplane spar, to the erection of an eternal memorial.
The stele at Prétot stands not only as a monument to Howard, Windeler, and the other men of the 90th Infantry Division, but as a physical reminder that, through connection to and respect for the past, pain and loss can be transformed from something that seems senseless and painful, to something that can touch hundreds, if not thousands, of lives. Each visitor to the stele helps preserve the legacy of the fallen, and the legacy of those who stand to remember them. This memorial is a testament to the power of simple remembrance.

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Some monuments draw their meaning from a specific location, while other objects reach across continents with their message of remembrance. The Oregon Merci Train is an example of a memorial whose remembrance spans across the ocean and connects France and America.

On February 3, 1949 the French freighter Magellan arrived in New York harbor with forty-nine boxcars used in the First and Second World Wars. The boxcars were filled with individual gifts to the American people in appreciation for humanitarian aid that helped bridge the agricultural devastation brought on by the European drought of 1947 as noted by Scheele in the Pennsylvania Heritage. According to Ellison, the gesture underscored an important historic "hands across the sea" relationship centering on a strategic alliance of shared interests free of government affiliations and linking multiple generations. Koppy believes that these railcars provide a personal reminder of how the United States came to France’s aid on two separate occasions in the twentieth century to celebrate a shared sense of humanity that the war could not extinguish.

The timeline of events that led to the Merci Trains arriving in the United States began with a severe European drought of 1947, further compounding the difficulties of assuming a normal life after the war. The situation was made known to Americans through several avenues including a visit by the Conference of Mayors President George Welsh and by syndicated columnist Drew Pearson expressing concerns in his Washington Merry-Go-Round column which asked Americans to send humanitarian aid to the weakened western democracies in Europe as documented by Scheele.

As a result, a grassroots efforts turned into competition between states as to who could donate the most. "Friendship Train" boxcars filled with food, clothing and medical supplies began leaving Los Angeles on November 7th, 1947, just five weeks after the idea was announced. Two-hundred and seventy boxcars filled with food, clothing, fuel and medicine arrived in New York on November 18th for the transatlantic trip to France. This action was independent of the multi-billion-dollar Marshall Plan that was being discussed in Congress. The boxcar idea was initiated by the American people outside of government intervention and lacked the strong political Cold War connotations of the Marshall Plan, according to Scheele in the California Territorial Quarterly.

The French-American relationship dates back to the seventeenth century with France assisting in America’s revolutionary war against England and was reinforced in the twentieth century through two world wars. After World War II (WWII) , French women cared for the American cemeteries in such a manner that mothers overseas expressed their gratitude. As documented by Lemay, one American gold star mother wrote that, "we feel now that France is not far away and that a hand of love and compassion has been stretched [sic] across the sea." The humanitarian supplies were gladly accepted by the French with the French consulate in the city of Chicago saying it best as documented by Van Poll, "This [Friendship] train meant so much, particularly for the children of France some of whom for the first time in their lives were able to taste cake and chocolate and have a little bit of extra sugar."

Andre Picard, a former French railway worker, wanted to reciprocate this goodwill gesture of the "Friendship Trains" and collected forty-eight boxcars built between 1872-1885 with the help of others. Mitchell notes that Picard expressed the feelings of many when he opined, "we found ourselves unable to reply in the same manner as you aided us," […] and we wanted "… to send you remembrances which would last forever." Drew Pearson, as documented by Tyler Abell, wrote that Americans were honored to receive the gifts: "People [Americans] everywhere seemed to appreciate this reciprocal gesture from the French." The French gifts, as detailed by Doss, included handwritten notes expressing gratitude, a feeling that Adam Smith believes plays an influential role in "the operation of stable modern and moral societies." The Oregon Merci boxcar holds a sampling of these gifts including commemorative plates, paintings, military medal, and a stuffed animal with a note tied to its neck, "For Your Baby." A gift of this nature to be given away at a time when France was suffering through visible devastation demonstrates why the Merci Trains are an important cultural asset that underscores the strength of the French-American relationship bond that the war could not break.

It is unfortunate that the Merci Boxcars have not received proper recognition in the memory of most Americans. Steven Grief feels that the boxcars were most logical method of transporting goods and were in keeping with the American "Friendship Train" motif. While what the Merci boxcars represent has not changed over time, other images of WWII have been etched in our collective memories. Justin Lambrecht notes that one of the most prominent images is the boxcar being used to transport Jewish people east to Nazi extermination centers. This may represent a reason why the Merci boxcar’s image has been suppressed. One could imagine the possibility that perhaps one of the boxcars could have been pressed into service by the Vichy French for such a grisly duty; Young notes that to make such a claim would require extensive research of how the boxcars were used by occupied France. Logically it would seem more likely these boxcars performed a multitude of duties in Nazi occupied Europe. It is a comforting "sanitizing remembrance" to think of the boxcars as uncoupled from the Third Reich’s legacy and were simply transportation that moved men and horses from one destination to another according to Greif in Waterways.

Living in Oregon near the mouth of the Columbia River, our community had two significant war memorials, the First World War Doughboy Monument and the Second World War’s Merci Train. The boxcar arrived at the capital in Salem on February 26, 1949 and was moved three times over the years to its current location in the city of North Bend under the administrative care of Coos History Museum where it received a refurbishment shortly after arrival and is now sheltered from the weather as documented by Greif in Waterways. Research into both memorials helped me realize that the memorials represent a significant experience in many lives and connects the two world wars. While not an often-recognized aspect of WWII, the Merci Train is a part of the historical legacy in nearly all of the states of the union, and as noted by Luce, was regarded by New York’s Mayor William O ’Dwyer as "the most heart-warming event in recent international history."

(Edited by Brad Poss & Laura Bailey)

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