Related story: Friends remember young soldier's life

By Richard Dujardin
Journal Staff Writer

The e-mail letter from Belgium, forwarded to me by the East Providence City Hall, was intriguing.

Jules Lamy, a commissioner with Belgium's federal police, and Claude J. Marchal, a former curator of a police museum near Tessenderlo, Belgium, had been searching for any information about John F. Webb, an Army paratrooper from East Providence who had been killed in action in Belgium in January 1945.

The reason for the interest: Lamy had taken it upon himself to ``adopt'' Webb's grave. Though he had been caring for the grave for almost two years, he knew little about Webb other than the name of his unit and the date of his death.

Because Lamy could speak little English, he turned to Marchal to send a letter off to East Providence to see if someone could provide more details. Who were his parents? Where did he live? What kind of a fellow was he? Did he have any living relatives?

Knowing that we have a vast morgue in the basement with old newspaper clippings, I set out one afternoon with Pat Pothier from the news library to look for any obituaries. After a careful search, we found a report from The Journal the day after he was reported missing in action, and another from the day his death was confirmed.

The information was sketchy, but it did provide a few basics -- he had been a 1942 graduate of East Providence High, and he had worked at Macieo Brothers and at the Hollywood Theater in East Providence before entering the Army in 1943.

We ran a story about the search, and as I anticipated, the story jogged some memories.

A man who lived two houses away from him, and whose family owned a grocery store where Webb worked, was perhaps Webb's closest friend. He talked about how they used to deliver groceries together and how Webb, an only child, had resolved to join the paratroopers when he was 18.

Others came forward, too. Marilyn Brewer, a high school classmate, said she did not know Webb very well but had kept the faded newspaper clipping that showed Webb in uniform, a very young man indeed. She also told me about some of their classmates who, one way or another, made a name for themselves -- from a former city police chief to the late Charles Abaijian, later known as rock and roll DJ Chuck Stevens.

Then Robert Rodericks, the school attendance officer for East Providence, looked into the school records and supplied me with the original card that showed all the schools Webb attended beginning with first grade. We went to the school superintendent's office and pulled out a 1942 yearbook which yielded his picture.

I e-mailed the photos to Belgium, as well as the two resulting stories, and soon I was getting letters back -- filled with gratitude for all we had done in helping to solve the mystery.

The reaction from Belgium was most moving.

Marchal reported that when Lamy read the account, tears filled his eyes: ``Poor James and Theresa Webb. They lost their only child in this cruel and silly war, and this in order to liberate unknown people from the old continent. What a sacrifice. Nobody should ever forget this.''

I could say the story ended there, but it didn't.

In the exchanges back and forth, I shared with Marchal that I too am of Belgian descent, and had visited Belgium last summer. It turns out Marchal and my father had lived in the same neighborhood in Brussels and thus we had something in common.

And more has happened: Carolyn McGrath, a nurse and amateur genealogist from Providence, became interested in the cause and figured out Webb's family tree. She got pictures of all the significant places: his parents' graves, the Hollywood theater where he used to work and the houses where Webb had lived and sent them off to Belgium. The Belgians, in turn, took pictures of the grave in Henri-Chapelle and have produced a Web site paying honor to this young man.

If you're curious about it, you can find it at: http://www.users.skynet.be/bs171567/webb/index.htm

It's a fine tribute, and shows that nearly 60 years later, one man's life need not be forgotten.