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Memories of father stay strong, even after 63 years

  • Published
  • By Annette Crawford
  • Air Force Print News
SAN ANTONIO (AFPN) --  She hasn't seen her father since 1943, but the years have done nothing to lessen the admiration and love she feels for him.

"He's been gone 60-something years, but all my sister and I remember is a kind, sweet man," said Margaret Ramey Watkins, speaking of her father, Brig. Gen. Howard K. Ramey.

In January 1943, General Ramey took command of the 5th Bomber Command in New Guinea. The assignment was at Port Moresby on the southeastern shore of the island. The location was coveted by both sides in World War II due to its strategic location near the Coral Sea and South Pacific Ocean.

On March 26, 1943, the 47-year-old general flew a B-17 Flying Fortress from Port Moresby on a reconnaissance mission. The aircraft vanished over the Bismarck Sea. The general and his crew were declared missing in action.

Exactly nine years earlier, on March 26, 1934, then Captain Ramey had been one of 35 American military pilots from World War I who founded the National Order of the Daedalians, a fraternal order of military pilots.

General Ramey was one of four Daedalians honored at the "Spirit of Founders Ceremony" at the Fort Sam Houston National Cemetery in San Antonio on May 27. Sponsored by the Daedalians' Stinsons Flight No. 2, the ceremony also honored Lt. Gen. Barney Giles, Maj. Gen. Warren Carter and Maj. Gen. Clements McMullen.

Mrs. Watkins was 10 when the pilots met at the Ramey home at Maxwell Field, Ala., to discuss forming the Daedalians. She knew something special was happening.

"It was exciting; you could just feel it," she said. "All the men, of course, they knew each other so well. In the old air corps there were so few of them."

She still has the songbook that her father and his friends used at their home more than 70 years ago.

"They would gather in the evening and we would hear many of these songs," she said.

The historical significance of those times were lost on her until she grew older.

"I was just a little kid that people patted on the head and say, 'Hey little Margaret, aren't you a pretty little girl?'"

Paging through a historical book of the Daedalians, Mrs. Watkins looked at the list of the 35 founding members. Running her finger down the list, she read out some of the names with whom she was familiar.

"There was Beau and Blackburn (Capt. Lucus Beau and 1st Lt. Lloyd Blackburn). They were good friends of Dad's. And Eglin ... he painted my portrait that's in the back room." That was Capt. Frederick Eglin, namesake of the northwest Florida base.

Mrs. Watkins was born at Walter Reed Army Hospital in Washington, D.C.

"She's a southerner because she was born in the south wing," said her husband, retired Air Force Lt. Col. Miles Watkins. The colonel, a proud South Carolinian, is also a member of the Daedalians and served in the Air Force 28 years.

The couple, married 61 years, now live in Air Force Village I in San Antonio. From their apartment they have an expansive view of the Texas countryside -- countryside where her father flew as a young pilot. One of her favorite stories about her father took place just a few miles from her present home.

"He was an instructor pilot at Kelly around 1925 and he sent one of his students off on his solo cross-country flight," she said. "In the process of flying the designated route, he had engine trouble ... in those days the planes only had one engine.

"(The student pilot) landed in a pasture of cattle out in west Texas. I'd give anything to know where (that pasture) is. When he didn't appear for several hours, Dad went out after him.

"All the pilots then wore white scarves. When it was cold in the cockpit they'd wrap them around their faces. The student was waving his scarf and Dad saw him and landed," Mrs. Watkins said.

"He thought he had scared all the livestock away but this one steer changed its mind and ran in front of the plane, and he hit him and killed him. And Dad said when that old rancher came running up with a gun they knew they were in for it. You don't kill a man's cattle.

Mrs. Watkins laughed and said the rancher surprisingly didn't pay any attention to the dead steer.

"The rancher was so glad to have company -- he was out in the middle of nowhere. He told Dad if he'd let him know when he was coming to visit he'd make sure the pasture was clear. And so evidently he went out there a number of times. Dad said they used to play chess," she said. "He often brought back hot chili peppers.

"On his next to last visit, Dad told him he was being transferred, and that his next visit would be his last," she said. "And so on his last visit, the old man gave him a set of handmade silver pilot's wings, with his name engraved on the back. I believe he had a silversmith on the property who made them.

Mrs. Watkins, now owner of the wings, held them up for view, the workmanship evident in the finely crafted pin.

"As a child I loved that story," she said. "It was just a good story he told and one I heard many a time."

The general's daughter said her father's legacy was his dedication and daring. She said her father, who was born in Waynesboro, Miss., lived to fly.

"He was a pilot's pilot," she said. "He was known for being an outlaw.

"The first time he saw an airplane, that was it. He just had to fly. He went to the University of Mississippi a couple of years, but flying was something he had to do."

Colonel and Mrs. Watkins looked over the memorabilia of the general's life -- photos, a pilot's log books, certificates and medals. The colonel picked up a photo of General Ramey on the day he was promoted to captain -- he's wearing a pair of extremely oversized bars on his shoulders and is laughing.

"There's a story behind that," he said. "He got promoted from first lieutenant to captain, but his monthly pay decreased. That was right after the big bank failures of '29, and the beginning of the Depression. Have you ever known anyone to be promoted and get a cut in pay?"

Mrs. Watkins doesn't hesitate a second when she talks about the last time she saw her father. It is evident in her eyes that this is a scene she has replayed many times.

"Oh yes, I remember. We went to say goodbye to him -- my mother and sister and I -- he was getting on an airplane. It was dark at Hamilton Field (in Marin County, Calif.) We said the usual goodbyes and he told us to take care of our mother."

Five years after his death, Borinquen Field in Puerto Rico was renamed Ramey Air Force Base in his honor.

"Miles once commented that Dad was always smiling when he stood by an airplane," Mrs. Watkins said. "I guess that is because he loved flying."