Todays history lesson.

On New Years Eve 1943, a B17 was shot down near our village. It exploded and split into three pieces, two of which landed in fields where I often go walking with Elvis.
Some of the crew got out and survived, despite being shot on the way down, others plummeted to earth when their parachutes caught fire, and some didn’t make it out of the plane. 
The bodies were buried by the local villagers, before being moved later to an American cemetery, and a few days later a farmer found a set of dog tags in the earth. Not knowing what to do with them he sent them to the President of the United States, and addressed the package to The White House.
Eventually the tags were forwarded to the airman’s mother together with a letter, and fast forward almost 80 years, her granddaughter contacted the farm on which the plane landed. Today the American relatives came to visit  the crash site, and were surprised by a reception and ceremony with the mayors of three villages, the local Veterans representative, and a  historian as well as two standard bearers, Mr F who translated, and half the villagers.
There was a vin d’honneur at the Mairie and the wine glasses were laid out as B17, also in the photo at the back of the table is the door to the plane which was kicked out by the pilot as it had jammed, blocking his escape. The relatives were given a small box of bits of the plane as well as a pot of earth from the field, and were quite overwhelmed.
The local villagers were very keen to recognise the sacrifice of the brave allies who gave their lives.