On the left side of the entrance hall.

Plaque

A rectangular bronze plaque honoring the nine crew members of B-17G 42-97529, crashed in the area. It features the names, ranks, photographs, and a brief history of the fallen soldier’s last mission. The plaque is written in French.

On June 22, 1944, B-17G s/n 42-97524 from the 413th Bomb Squadron, 96th Bomb Group, was on a mission targeting an industrial and railway complex in Gennevilliers, northwest of Paris. This operation was part of the Allied strategy to disrupt German supply lines after D-Day. While en route, the aircraft encountered heavy anti-aircraft fire over Paris, specifically in Joinville-le-Pont, Val-de-Marne. Struck by flak at 25,000 feet, the plane crashed around 19:24. Nine crew members perished, and Sgt. Joseph A. Duch, the sole survivor, was captured and became a POW.

Source of information: b17flyingfortress.de, http://francecrashes39-45.net

Source of photos: www.aerosteles.net

POUR LA LIBERTE

(FOR FREEDOM)

Left Column:

In times like this, no need to call, the cherished lives we’re living,

We have from those who fought before, that Earth be more like heaven.

We have to fight, we choose it so, this world is full of fears,

Without us no one will live safe, we have to stop the tears.

Gypsy, Jewish, Parachutist, helpless they must slay,

We’ll never understand just why, they’ve made the world this way.

Six missions safe, before this day, our crews have fought alike,

“Survivor” plane we have, they say (it is this “Fort’s last flight).

The clouds at first delay our strike, we have to try again,

Their gunners find our range and height, we will not turn back then.

By nineteen-hundred seventeen, our task is now completed,

At Gennevillier their war supplies are seriously depleted.

Their eight-eights take two bold “Forts” (of twenty, four survive),

That does not satisfy their lust, to keep their hate alive.

The other Fortress, torn in half, frees three (from ours, tail gunner, too),

While chasing down, they’re targets still, God help them make it through!

Our pilots stop the spinning fall, right wing is still in flame,

They try to ditch at river’s edge, (for killing, we’re “fair game”).

In Joinville, now a young boy sees them, hit our “Fort” once more,

Both wings blow off, we strike a home, hell-fire is now our war.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Of nine crew left, the end was there, they fought and then were slain,

One airman’s body was thrown clear, he did not rise again.

From where he lay upon the ground, a coin “for luck” retrieved,

(This token rests now in his home, a family who long grieved.)

Just one live soul was pulled out of the holocaust of flame,

A Frenchman strove to save his life, although it was in vain.

Destruction now complete, the ammo, oxygen, and fuel,

Reduced the crew, the “Fort” itself, to memories so cruel.

Before the enemy arrived, the neighbors unabated,

In linens wrapped all those they found, in church then consecrated.

And each they lovingly did place, in private plots interred,

(Today their gardens flower full), the men who weren’t deterred.

The fires when cold, next morning sun, dawned on their caring true,

The neighbors placed on what remained, flowers… red and white and blue.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Right Column:

Our country sent a husband loved, a father, son or brother,

And each kept free ten thousand souls, and freed ten thousand other.

As history repeats itself, they do not serve alone,

For each who fight, for each we lose, a million pray at home.

A nation young by history’s count needs heroes now and past,

That won’t accept man's evil deeds that liberty won’t last.

A plaque shows those great Frenchmen care, for them those lives were given,

For France, the world, our countrymen, their memories are living.