EPILOGUE
I have received
accolades from family and friends on publishing “The Great Promise”, although
rewarding, the success would have been sweeter if my father would have been
able to share this adventure with me. He passed away in 2006, two years before
I was given the journal. I’ll never know if he was aware of this father’s
exploits during the war, or for that matter, if he knew the journal existed.
Indeed it would have been interesting to know the answers to these questions.
*******
Following
active duty my grandfather returned to his civilian occupation as an
electrician. At one point he was involved in rewiring the Parliament Building
and Buckingham Palace in London. There is a reliable family rumor that during
the rewiring of the Parliament, my grandfather took a lunch break and sat on
the throne of England while eating his cheese sandwich.
By 1922 climatic conditions in England had
degraded, continuing to adversely affect my grandfather’s lungs, already
damaged by exposure to gas. This postwar environment drove a difficult decision
to emigrate from England, with either the United States or Australia as
appealing destinations. Many years later, during a conversation with my
paternal uncle, I was astonished to learn that the Frederick Coxen family’s
destiny was determined in 1922 by the toss of a coin! It was at this point that
the family had boarded a ship bound for the United States out of Southampton,
England.
Upon arriving in New York harbor, they
were processed through Ellis Island. The family moved to Detroit, Michigan, to
stay with one of my grandfather’s relatives. While living in Detroit he
participated in at least one Memorial Day parade, which takes place on the 30th
of May each year to honor fallen soldiers. (Figure 21)
He worked in various jobs in the area
until he landed one working for a man that blended automotive polishes and waxes
and sold them to Ford Motor Company. Along with product blending
responsibilities, he also double as a salesman and called on the Ford buyer.
During one of their meetings the buyer suggested that if my grandfather started
his own business, he would rather buy from him than the current supplier.
In 1930, he started his own company,
Excelda Manufacturing and true to his word, the Ford buyer did purchase product
from Excelda. Through the years I often wondered why my grandfather named his
company Excelda. I asked both my father and uncle and neither one had an
answer, which seemed strange since they worked with him from the company’s
inception. It is family lore that Fred met and shook Henry Ford’s hand.
As was common with many enterprises during
World War II, in order to meet the growing needs of a country at war, my
grandfather converted the business to a tool and die shop. For a time, the
facility manufactured parts for a military bomber being assembled in Detroit’s Willow
Run Airport. He was also very influential in selling War Bonds to help finance
the war. After the war Fred G. Coxen received the Distinguished Service Medal for
the company’s contributions during the war.
After
the war ended and my father and uncle returned home after serving in the US
Navy, he retired without ceremony, and handed the keys to the business over to
his sons.
Although
retired he remained active and at one point he became
involved in a Florida land development project. Along with three partners, they
planned a development called “Santa Barbara Shores”, which was located in the
southern section of Pompano Beach. The development took place during the 1950s
and each new home had a minimum of 1,350 sq ft and had a starting price of
$20,000 dollars.
Excelda continues to be owned and managed
by family members, retaining Ford Motor Company as an important customer.
********
To the best of my knowledge, there were at
least two occasions when my grandparents returned to England to visit
relatives. I don’t believe he took advantage of these opportunities to fulfill
the promise made at the onset of his active military duty. However, in 1938 he
drafted a letter to the RFA Records, Woolwich, England requesting any
information they may have on George Millington, he wanted get in touch with Old
George and hopes that they could meet when he visited England that summer. I do
not know if that meeting ever took place. I wondered what happened to George so
I did some investigation and found that he survived the war and remained in the
RFA until retirement. To qualify for a military pension he accepted a reduction
in rank from 2nd Lieutenant to Sergeant Major.
My
conversations about my grandfather’s involvement in the Great War, either
active or inactive, with any senior family members never evolved, therefore the
box of mementos is my only link to this phase of my grandfather’s life.
I was thirteen when he died of lung cancer in
1960.The doctors attributed this fatality to damaging gas exposure during the
war, combined with cigarette smoking. My grandmother remained with us for a few
more years, at which point she was laid to rest alongside my grandfather, in a
small cemetery in Pompano Beach, Florida.
To use a quote from
Douglas McArthur, “Old soldiers never die, they just fade away”, which is what
happens to most soldiers. When they die, their names and exploits are memories
housed by family or friends, until they too depart life, taking the memories
with them. What remains of the soldier’s life are the few personal items saved
as well as archived military records.
Captain Fred G. Coxen
had faded from existence until 2008 when his journal brought him back to life.
Publishing his story insures his immortality as a piece of British and American
history.
When researchers view
his journal and military documents, now housed in a museum, his name will be
remembered in a footnote or bibliography.
There is a lesson to be
learned from this, and that is the importance of writing down your stories.
Perhaps they will not include historical content, but they will carry on your
life for future generations.
Many soldiers perform
heroic tasks without recognition and thereby end up as footnotes in a sea of
military records, such as George Millington. Their names are not found among
the elite honored for their heroism, like Frederick Holmes, who received the
Victoria Cross for bravery for carrying a badly wounded comrade two miles to
safety, and then returned to his battalion to find even more wounded. He placed
one man on a horse of an artillery gun team in an attempt to get him to safety;
but somewhere in the dark he lost him. He himself was badly wounded during the
Battle of Le Cateau. [1]
For the majority of
soldiers, they just fade away, and remain unknown except by friends and family.
Over time their names will be but a branch on a family tree, their exploits and
accomplishments lost.
However, by publishing my
grandfather’s story, his name and deeds will live on through eternity, and
become a small fraction of both British and American history.
