It is about my mother's cousin Henry Hector MacKenzie, Jr., of the Royal Canadian Air Force, whose plane was shot down over France in 1944.
He was 24 years old.
Many years later, the MacKenzie family learned that parts of Harry's plane had been found. We also learned that there are people in France almost 70 years after World War II who are still looking for such wreckage, so that they can let families know about our boys who liberated France.
With the guns and drums, and drums and guns, Harry,
Where are your eyes that looked so mild, Harry?
You died in your plane north of Paree
Harry, I never knew o' ye.
Five brave Frenchmen, they found your plane, Harry,
When you’d been buried sixty years, Harry,
When you’d been buried sixty years,
They found your plane and cried real tears,
Though, Harry, they never knew ye.
Those brave Frenchmen, they did not rest, Harry,
’Til with your plane they’d done their best, Harry,
They polished the engine ’til it shone
In that small town of Sacy-le-Grand,
As if, Harry, they knew ye.
|H.H. MacKenzie, Jr. (Harry), 1920-1944|