With the passage of time the story I am about to tell you seems like a series of very interesting coincidences, very personal in nature, but nonetheless coincidences.  However, when the events occurred it seemed like a definite paranormal experience. Nevertheless, most people enjoy hearing the story. So, I have decided to include it on my Homepage. What I believe or don't believe is irrelevant to the story, although many who hear the story would like to know what I think happened. Frankly, at this point in time I am not sure. 

By the time you read this I would hope that  you already viewed the Beverly Ghost Story and photos. If not you should go back to read the page and  look at the photos, then return. 

June 1994

My trip to Beverly National Cemetery was to become, emotionally, a mission. Before I left Arizona I purchased a few black baseball caps and 'Big Red One' patches; 1st Infantry Division. Joan sewed them on the caps and I gave each of my brothers one. In my mission plan I decided that I would leave my cap on the headstone when I left the cemetery, signifying that my mission was accomplished.

As I prepared to leave for the cemetery the morning of June 6th I could not find my Red One baseball cap. We were staying at Joan's Aunt's house. Joan and I searched the room and rental car, but it was nowhere to be found. We decided that it must have dropped from the car the evening before, when we went shopping. I was extremely upset and disappointed that I would not be able to leave it; per plan. 

Two days after my cemetery visit we were to fly back to Arizona. The evening before the flight we packed our bags and Joan informed me that we would have to wake up at 3:30 AM to drive to Newark Airport for our return flight. I told her that I had made a flight later in the day so that we didn't have to get up so early. She disagreed, and got the airline tickets from her purse. Sure enough our flight was at 8:00 AM. I was angry with the travel agent. She had given me two choices for the flight back, the 8:00 AM flight and another at 10:00 AM, the earlier having a stop and plane change in Denver, the later one a none stop. I had told her to book the later one; for two reasons, it was later, and since I don't like to fly, the non-stop was more appealing. She somehow reversed the flights and booked us on the earlier Denver stop over. 

Of course there wasn't anything we could do. We woke at 3:30, showered and dressed. I brought the bags to the car. While  Joan waited in the car  I took  one last look around the house and bedroom before I locked the doors. Once locked we could not get back in if we forgot anything. The bedroom we slept in had a baby crib and bed. The light was on in the outer room, so the bedroom was dimly lit. As I turned to leave something caught my eye. It looked like the tip of a black shoe sticking out from under a blanket that was folded over the end of the crib. I reached down and pulled it out. It was not a shoe, it was the black baseball cap! I was  one happy camper. Maybe I didn't get to leave it at the cemetery, but it wasn't lost after all. I placed it on my head, exited, locked the house, and got in the car. Joan couldn't believe it when she saw me wearing the hat. She was happy as I was; that it had been found. 

You know what it is like when you board a plane by rows. Our seats were somewhere rear of the wing. As I inched my way towards our seat assignments I had to stop for a minute while the isle cleared. I was standing adjacent to the seats in front of ours. I looked down at the people already seated and the gentleman sitting in the middle seat was looking up at me. You ever have someone look at you like they know you, well that was what I felt. I took my seat, Joan chose the middle seat; I had the isle. I was trying to place the face of this gentleman when he turned in his seat and looking through the gap between his and the isle seat gave me a thumbs up sign. I still couldn't place him. He said something, but I  couldn't hear him well enough to understand what he said. I leaned closer to the gap and the conversation went something like this. 

"Big Red One",  he said, giving the thumbs up sign again. "Were you in the Red One",  he asked. I told him no, that my father was in the Red One during World War II. I told him that I had gone to the cemetery, and was wearing the cap to    commemorate his participation in the Invasion of Normandy.

He said, "I was with the Red One during World War II", but that he had been wounded in North Africa and wasn't in the invasion.

"What Regiment were you with," I asked, assuming he was infantry and would have been in one of the Regimental Combat Teams.

"I was with the 1st Engineer Combat Battalion," he answered, I couldn't believe what I just heard.

"My father was with the 1st Engineers, what company?" I asked.

"H & S Company". he replied

"My father was with H & S". I couldn't believe what I was hearing. He asked his name.

"Sergeant Hession", I told him, he didn't respond.

"Did you know him", I asked.

"I didn't know him personally, but I know who he was." he replied.

Believe it or not the conversation ended there. He turned around, I sat back in my seat. The whole episode was surreal, to say the least. I looked at Joan, she obviously  overheard the conversation, she said nothing. I didn't speak, in fact, I never said another word the whole flight. I was absolutely stunned. My mind was racing, but I can't remember what I was thinking. I don't remember the flight at all. I know there was a movie, I think I ate, I'm not sure. We landed in Denver, I knew I had to talk with him again. I took a business card from my wallet. The plane landed, taxied to the gate, stopped, seat belt sign went off. I stood, holding the business card. He came up from his seat and was standing next to me. We turned to each other at the same instant, both of us were holding out our hand, each of us was holding a business card.

"I want to talk with you again", he said. He explained that he was going to Yellowstone on vacation and would call when he returned to New Jersey. I acknowledged that I wanted to talk with him too. We left the plane, and said goodbye to him and his wife.

When the phone call came a few weeks later I was eager to talk. He told me that he had been wounded in North Africa, by machine gun fire, while with a work party laying a minefield. He said that he laid in the minefield for hours while the fighting, that started with the machine gun fire that wounded him, continued, his wounds preventing him from moving on his own. Later that night a few engineers crawled out in the minefield and pulled him to safety. He was eventually evacuated back to the United States where he remained in the hospital for ten months, while his wounds healed. He informed me that the 1st Engineer Combat Battalion was having a reunion in October 1994. He also mailed me a copy of Eight Stars to Victory, the history of the 1st Engineer Combat Battalion in World War II.

For the next week I pondered a thought that occurred to me after my phone conversation. My mother came to visit Joan and I. While we sat at the table I began to ask my mother the following question.

"Mom, there was a story I heard when I was young ..........", I began to ask. She cut me off in mid sentence.

"About your father crawling out in a minefield in North Africa." she finished my sentence. I looked at Joan, her expression was one of stunned surprise. I had not prepared her for what I was going to ask or  what my mother was about to say.

"Yes tell me about it". I said

"Well, there isn't much to tell, someone was wounded in a minefield and had been there for hours. It was night time. Your father and a couple of others crawled out to get him. That's all I know", she finished.

Joan was stunned, I had not told her. She couldn't believe that my mother had just cut me off mid sentence and confirmed what I was thinking. Was this veteran of the 1st Engineers the same soldier that my father helped out of that minefield fifty years ago?

We will never know for sure. He doesn't know who the men were. It was not an unusual act during the war. Hundreds of men were wounded, hundreds of men crawled out to get their fallen comrades. This would have been one of thousands of undocumented incidences during the battle for North Africa.

Had I completed my mission by leaving the hat on the headstone, this man would never have noticed me. Coincidence?

You be the judge.

Copyright Matthew Hession 2001, All Rights Reserved