May 25, 2025.

Today is Memorial Day, the day Americans have honored since 1868

when we mourn those military personnel who have died in the service of the country.

That is, for the rest of us. For me, one of those

people is Bo Bryant. When we were growing up, we hung out at one particular house where a

friend's mom provided unlimited peanut butter and fluff sandwiches, Uno games, iced tea

and lemonade, sympathetic ears, and stories.

She talked about Bo, her older brother, in the same way we talked about all our people,

and her stories made him part of our world, even though he had been killed in World War II

19 years before we were born.

Bo's real name was Floyston, and he had always stepped in as a father

to his three younger sisters when their own father fell short. When World War II came, Bo

was working as a plumber and was helping his mother make ends meet, but in September

1942, he enlisted in the Army Air Corps.

He became a staff sergeant in the 32nd Bomber Squadron, 91st Bomb Group, nicknamed Ray's

Ragged Irregulars after their commander, Colonel Stanley T. Ray.

By the time Bo joined, the squadron was training with new B-17s at Dow Army Airfield near Bangor, Maine,

and before deploying to England, he hitchhiked three hours home so he could see his family once more.

It would be the last time. The 91st bomb group was a pioneer bomb group, figuring out tactics for air cover.

By May 1943, it was experienced enough to lead the 8th Air Force as it sought to establish

air superiority over Europe.

But the 91st did not have adequate fighter support until 1944.

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