I’ve been putting off writing this post mainly because I’ve struggled to put into words what visiting the site was like—it was nothing like what G and I expected. I was expecting a memorial, perhaps a piece of the fuselage, but nothing prepared me for the wide area strewn with pieces of the airplane. Metal lodged into trees, the outline of a window, markings and rivets on large, somewhat-intact pieces. We were certainly standing on sacred ground, where 7 United States airmen lost their lives on a winter’s day in 1963.

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