D-Day: Love Unites, Death Cannot Separate

D-Day conjures up a multitude of emotions for many Americans.

I’m flying to Normandy with my family on the morning of June 1 to visit Normandy to witness the 75th anniversary of the jump into France that essentially catapulted the United States into the European theater of World War II.

I’ll be writing a feature on Normandy, D-Day, and the events surrounding this week, but I want to share a story that means so much to me and my family.

I can’t tell the story better than Pat Gawthrop, so what you’re about to read are her words. She’s the daughter of Sam and Edna Gawthrop and a sweet friend of mine. I met the Gawthrop family at church when we were stationed in Dahlonega, Georgia, and our family has been interconnected because of one beautiful gold cross. I’m sharing this story because it’s a story of love—of military love.

A type of love many of us understand well.

But not just love of your service member.

This is also a story about love of family, love of God, and love of duty to your country.

Sam and Edna were high school sweethearts in Elkview, West Virginia, with big plans to be the first in either family to go to college and perhaps become teachers. But everything changed on one day, Dec. 7, 1941.

Sam joined the Army and volunteered for something called the Paratroopers. No one even knew what a paratrooper was. Before he left, Edna gave him a gold cross to carry with him. She had the cross engraved “love unites, death cannot separate.”

It has a double meaning both for their love of each other and Christ’s love for His people.

Sam trained in Toccoa, Georgia, on a mountain called Curahee, and was then sent to Fort Benning. No one was given leave, so Sam sent his sister money to buy an engagement ring for Edna, and Sam’s dad asked her if she would wait for Sam. She said she would and so Sam and Edna were engaged.

Sam was sent on a troop ship to Casablanca where they trained under a young captain named James Gavin for the invasion of Sicily. Sam made the jump, but the planes dropped his unit behind enemy lines. His parents received a telegram that he was MIA.

It would be months before they got word that he was safe.

The 505th Parachute Infantry Regiment made the jump into Italy and fought up the Boot. They were sent to Ireland, then England to train for the invasion. On June 6, 1944, Sam jumped into Sainte Mère-Église, France, and fought for months before he was wounded so badly he was sent back to England in a body cast. He recovered to the point that he could cut the one remaining cast off his left arm and go to Belgium for the offensive called the Battle of Bulge.

In May 1945, he was sent home on a hospital ship. He was ambulatory enough to walk down the aisle with his beloved Edna. Sugar was rationed so the community pooled their coupons for a wedding cake.

Sam and Edna were the first in either family to get a college degree and became teachers. They raised three children: Michael, Patricia, and Mark. Sam Derrick died of cancer in 1984 and is buried at Arlington National Cemetery.

Edna gave the gold cross to their daughter, Pat.

Pat and her husband, Gene, have a farm in Dahlonega, Georgia, where they retired many years after Gene returned from Vietnam, and attend Dahlonega United Methodist Church. That’s where our paths crossed.

There is a special bond between military wives that transcends generations and geography. It doesn’t matter where you’re from or any age difference. We’ve had an experience that’s unique to those of us who’ve had to wait. My mother understands this, as do I.

Not surprising then that I immediately gravitated to Tiffany when Ben told us he was making the reenactment jump; I was so moved. I told him about my Dad with the 505 PIR. Before Ben left, I took off the gold cross and asked if he would take it with him in remembrance of my Dad. We all had moist eyes that day. It was such a blending of the past and present. My mother was so pleased. The hardships of that long-ago time are not forgotten.

—Pat Gawthrop

Ben, my husband, made the jump with the 5th Ranger Training Battalion during the 73rd anniversary of D-Day in 2017 and returned the cross. Edna is now 94 years old and lives in Falls Church, Virginia, with one of her sons. She reads, gardens, belongs to three book clubs, and walks a mile a day, weather permitting.

She never remarried.