The Longest Day - Normandy, June 5, 2007

France Honors WWII Akron Hero


A reflection by Kelly Hynes O’Neill, grand-niece of Richard T. Lynch

“The French hate Americans!” Such sentiments are common if media reports and trans-Atlantic political acrimony is to be believed. But there is a hidden dimension to Franco-American relations that is beyond friendship and more akin to family. The WWII generation in both countries share a bond forged in a struggle against a ruthless and determined enemy of freedom.

My great uncle, U.S. Army Air Force Flight Officer Richard T. Lynch, was only 22 years old when he was shot down in the early morning hours of July 18, 1944, on the coast of Bricqueville-sur-Mer. He had completed a night photo reconnaissance mission with the 155th Night Photo Reconnaissance Squadron and was returning to Chalgrove, England. Regretfully, there were no survivors among the 3-man crew.

F/O Richard T. Lynch
U.S. Army Air Force
Requiescat in Pace 1922-1944

Nearly 63 years later, we found ourselves just 7 hours by car to Uncle Dick’s final resting place at Brittany American Cemetery in St. James, France. My husband had been recalled to active duty with the Navy to serve for a year in Germany and we were determined to make the journey to honor Uncle Dick’s sacrifice during his tour of duty. We could never have imagined the adventure that was about to begin.

Since my father, Patrick Hynes, was Uncle Dick’s nephew, we wanted to make sure that he joined us for the trip to Normandy. His late mother, Alice Lynch Hynes, was especially close to her brother, “Dickie”.

PVT Alice Lynch Hynes
U. S. Women's Army Corps
Requiescat in Pace 1920-1999

Uncle Dick’s part of the Normandy story was far removed from the famous beaches at Omaha and Utah, so we decided to retain the services of a professional tour guide and local expert for an entire day. After completing research on various tour companies in January, we booked Overlord Tours managed by Alain Chesnel. We needed someone with the “lay of the land” to help us find the locations of the tragic, yet inspiring story of Uncle Dick’s last day. Alain took an immediate interest in the personal aspects of our visit and agreed to take us to the cemetery at St. James and other sites in the area; however, he didn’t stop there.

Using Army records we provided him, Alain leveraged his network of extensive contacts throughout Normandy to launch a massive investigation into the details of Uncle Dick’s time in Normandy. He phoned the city hall at Regneville-sur-Mer, a small coastal town where Uncle Dick’s body was recovered and buried two weeks after the crash. The city clerk advised him to contact M. Georges Esnol, President of a local historic preservation association, who may be able to help. Georges possessed a rare postcard photo of the original interment ceremony at Regneville. (see below)

Uncle Dick’s remains were removed from the Regneville cemetery in 1948 and re-interred in the American cemetery 42 miles south-east in St. James.

This is part of a map featured on the inside wall of the chapel at Brittany American Cemetery. St. James is in the bottom left-hand corner of the map.

Georges expressed that he always had an interest in learning more about the American airman and searched for his identity for many years. Georges worked with his daughter Patricia and Patrick Fissot, a local history teacher and regional expert on WWII in Normandy, to continue the research and begin plans for a memorial service. Alain told us in late February that, “We are planning a small ceremony in your honor,” but nothing could have prepared us for what was to come.

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At 8:30 a.m. on Tuesday, June 5th, Alain pulled up in his van and we set off for Brittany American Cemetery in St. James, about an hour and a half south-west of the 16th century Château where we stayed near St. Mère Église, of The Longest Day fame.

Château de L'Isle-Marie

It was a beautiful day with clear blue skies and sunshine. As we pulled up to the Cemetery, we were greeted by the Assistant Superintendent, Georges, and Robert, his neighbor/translator. We were carefully escorted to the grave where my father was treated with the courtesy accorded the next-of-kin. (As Uncle Dick was unmarried and left no children, the only living member of his immediate family is his older sister, Mary Hengle, who at 92 was too frail to make the trip.) Aunt Mary was featured in an article honoring Uncle Dick in the Akron Beacon Journal. Click here to read the first page of the tribute, and click here to read the second page with additional photos.

The Superintendent brought an American flag, sand from the beaches of Normandy, and a small pail of water to the grave. To make the letters stand out, he knelt down and applied the sand to the engraved portions of the pristine marble cross. When he finished filling all the characters with sand, he wiped away the excess to reveal a perfect monument to our honored relative.

He placed Old Glory into the ground in front of the cross and asked if we would like “Taps” to be played. Everyone but the family then excused themselves while encouraging us to remain as long as we wished.

We cried and said a Hail Mary. It was the culmination of so many months of planning and the first visit by a family member to his tomb in 63 years. The Carillon of the chapel quietly chimed a number of patriotic melodies which was carried on the soft, warm breeze.

The cemetery was humming with activity that morning with a half dozen gardeners working to maintain the Eden-like setting. Every blade of grass perfectly trimmed and every flower in full bloom.

After a short while, we composed ourselves, took several photos, and visited the graves of the other two airmen who perished with Uncle Dick.





I found it difficult to walk away from Dick’s grave. I didn’t like the idea of leaving him alone, but I was comforted by the knowledge that all three men rest together in such an immaculately cared-for preserve befitting their heroic lives.

Dad and Ambrose at the grave of 1LT Walter Wingert.

Ambrose, dad and me at the grave of SSGT Nathan Lepselter.

We also spent a while in the chapel reading the inscriptions from Scripture carved in stone and enjoying commentary from the Park Superintendent about the history of the cemetery. It was with regret that our time at St. James came to a close, but the day was only beginning.

Following lunch, we journeyed to Bricqueville-sur-Mer. Upon arrival, we crossed a salt marsh via a “route submersible” which was not underwater at that time, and drove onto the sandy Atlantic coastline. We got out and felt the strong sea breeze. Georges proceeded to explain that this area, known as the Becquet Rock, is where the plane was shot down.

A short distance away, there was a shallow area of water. This marked the precise location of the fallen flight. The shoreline in this area experiences nearly 45 foot tidal variances depending on the time of year. In other words, the shallow water we observed was actually exposed sandy beach at the time Dick’s flight crashed.

Next, Georges pointed to a small peninsula. That was Granville; the site of the German guns that fired the fatal shot. Alain said that later this year, when the tides are low, he plans to return with his metal detector to search the area for debris.

With that, we returned to the car and drove a few minutes to a nearby private home. Outside we met the mayor of Bricqueville and his wife who volunteered to video record the remainder of our day! We walked into the home and were surprised to meet a witness to the crash. Amazingly, Alain’s contacts had located 81 year old, Mr. Umfprah, who was 18 years old at the time of the crash. He recalled hearing the sound of the crash in the very same house where we met him, but was unable to go out and investigate due to strict Nazi regulations at the time.

The photo above is an example of the Douglas F-3A photo reconnaissance aircraft that Uncle Dick flew in during his night missions. This plane was a converted A-20J Havoc attack bomber.

Mr. Umfprah's late cousin actually saw the crash but was not permitted to approach either. Mr. Umfprah later collected two pieces of the plane that he has safeguarded for years. He graciously gave them to my father during our visit in a touching display of Franco-American friendship and hospitality. It was an emotional exchange that deeply touched our family.

In gratitude for what we thought was the highlight of the day, Mark distributed some small mementos of magnets and buttons with the symbol of the 9th Air Force.

The plane parts presented to Dad from Mr. Umphrah.

Saying good-bye to Mr. Umfprah...

After many fond farewells, we proceeded to the small town of Bricqueville proper where the mayor organized a small ceremony at the town’s war memorial. It was attended by local war veterans holding flags, an elementary school class, and several local townspeople.

The mayor gave a great speech honoring Richard Lynch and placed a wreath in his honor. The ceremony was followed by a champagne reception in the town hall. We were delighted to answer questions about America from the school children and were disappointed when Alain told us that we must proceed with the day.






We drove 7 miles north to Regneville where their mayor greeted us and took us on a tour of the waterfront. Georges pointed out the exact spot where Uncle Dick’s body was respectfully recovered on a sandy bank at low tide, just to the left of the Regneville Lighthouse.





His body was placed on a ladder and carried to the town hall where he was placed in a coffin draped with the American flag and lay in state for two days before his Catholic burial in the local churchyard.


That same town hall was flying the American flag for the occasion and when we stepped inside, there was a photo of Uncle Dick on the wall and a bouquet of flowers beneath a sign listing his name and that his body rested here in 1944. It was such an overwhelming feeling that we were brought to tears again and our escorts left us for a period of time to reflect.



I sobbed with both sorrow and joy as I said, “I was afraid that he would be forgotten…but he is definitely not forgotten!”




After a few minutes of silent prayer, we exited and visited with our hosts before being asked to follow them to the church. As we walked up a winding road towards the old stone church, we were so thankful that the trip concluded so well, but as we rounded the bend, a large crowd had gathered of 75 or more.



Among the many townspeople, there was also a priest, 8 flag bearers, the mayors of Bricqueville and Regneville, a deputy of the French National Assembly (Congressman), a journalist, two musicians, and veterans of the French Resistance. It didn’t occur to us that everyone was there to honor Uncle Dick. We thought perhaps that Mass had just ended or there had been a funeral that day.

We followed the procession to the cemetery where a short memorial service was held. On behalf of our family, my husband read several prayers in English. Both the French and American national anthems were played and moving speeches were made. An empty casket was draped with the American Flag.




In the photo below, we are standing where the postcard photo was taken during the original interrment ceremony in 1944.





The ceremony culminated in the unveiling of a marble plaque that is translated: “In Memory of Richard T. Lynch: Fallen for our Freedom – July 1944.” The plaque is mounted on the outer wall of the 12th century church facing the cemetery where Uncle Dick rested for 4 years.


My Dad was so overcome he could only say thank you, but there could be no doubt of his appreciation. His tears said all that was needed. With that, the ceremony was closed and we adjourned to a champagne reception in the town hall. We were presented with several gifts: Normandy caramels, shortbreads, a hardback book on the region, and a handmade commemorative booklet of the occasion. Perhaps even more moving, we met the daughter of the man who organized the first memorial service in 1944 that was depicted on the old postcard. In another twist, Georges and his assistants managed to locate an elderly woman who, as a young girl, helped her father, a fisherman, recover the body. She, too, paid her respects and wished our family well! She vividly remembered that day and gave a written testimonial for the booklet.

Under the leadership of Alain Chesnel, grateful French patriots paid tribute to a young man from Akron, Ohio, who came to a land he did not know to help free a people he had never met.

These citizens offered hours of their own time to research the last day of Uncle Dick’s life. Not only did they locate living witnesses, but also organized a moving memorial service and two gracious receptions. Through their efforts, honors were accorded our fallen hero and an enduring friendship between free nations was nurtured. We can now count many new life-long friends as a result of this incredible journey. Vive La France and God Bless America.