Lest we forget the mission is many things.
It is a monumental work of art by a talented artist of more than 90 years of age.
It is a personal tribute to the artist's fallen comrades.
It is an educational work that allows current and future generations to immerse themselves
in the daily life of World War II airmen.
But most of all, it is a unique monument dedicated to the memory of more than 88,000 airmen
killed in World War II.
During the war, mission planners at headquarters decided how best to deploy forces and created
specific mission plans to be executed by the crews of fighters and bombers.
The sculpture before you depicts a scene that was replayed countless times in every theater
of the war.
The squadron leader stands before the map and describes the mission objective given
to him by headquarters.
The briefing typically occurs at O Dark Thirty, well before sunrise.
The origin of this monument began more than 70 years ago.
Frederick Arnold was 19 years old when Pearl Harbor was attacked.
I had never given a thought to the military.
Being an artist, you can imagine, but within three months of Pearl Harbor, I was in the
Army Air Corps and signed on to be a pilot, to be a fighter pilot.
Boys with little or no experience were put into P-38s, one of the most powerful fighters
on the planet.
Many washed out or were killed in training.
As one of a group of 14 who made it, Second Lieutenant Arnold was sent to North Africa
where the newly minted Americans faced seasoned German fighter pilots and vast Axis air superior.
The fatalities were horrific.
Six months later, all but two were dead.
12 of our buddies were gone.
So Jim Hagenback, the other survivor and I, made a solemn vow, the last man standing
will undertake to honor those 12 who were killed.
Initially, pilots were told they needed to fly 25 missions.
On his 22nd mission with three to go before returning to the US, the Air Corps, to cover
the staggering losses, bumped the required missions up to 50.
I never thought I'd make it home.
But he did.
Shot down behind enemy lines, captured and escaped, he finished 50 missions.
Jim returns home and is promoted to the rank of major by the age of 23.
When the war was over, I wanted to forget everything.
I didn't want to look in the mirror and see a killer.
Most returning soldiers, he was eager to restart his life, get married and raise a family.
Major Arnold, now retired, resumed his career as an artist, painting and sculpting.
Then in 1998, it was more than 30 years after the war and Jim Hagenback, the other survivor,
was dying.
I rushed to the hospital.
We said goodbye, then he said, don't forget our promise, now it's up to you.
I said, hey Jim, I promise, but frankly I didn't have the slightest idea what to do.
Through the years, he sought to honor his vow through several art projects.
Then in 2012, Major Arnold conceived of a challenging sculpture that would show 12 airmen
each with their own story.
He started by creating what sculptors call a maquette, a small version of the work.
To enlarge the sculpture to life-size, however, would be a Herculean task.
So at the age of 90, he was now, once more, a man on a mission.
Over the next three years, Frederick Arnold, assisted by fellow artist Sutton Betty, sculpted
more than 3,000 pounds of clay into the 12 life-size figures that would ultimately comprise
the finished sculpture.
This first completed sculpture I call Teenager.
We were all so young back then.
For me, it's about remembering those who were lost, those young soldiers who never had the
chance to grow up, to raise a family, and to live.
It's the human cost that needs to be remembered and honored, lest we forget their courage
and sacrifice.
I am the last man, and I made a vow, lest we forget.
Twelve young pilots prepare for the day's mission.
Even here, as they were originally sculpted in clay, the figures portrayed in the sculpture
do not correspond to twelve specific men.
Each represents a composite archetype, created by the artist from his memory of many individuals
encountered during the war.
Each carries a nickname that captures an essential message embodied in each.
The first figure, Squadron Leader, stands before a map describing the upcoming mission
to his fellow pilots.
He stretches a string across the map, from their base to the target.
By referencing the compass at the lower left and the range marks at the bottom of the map,
he determines the critical outbound heading and distance to the target.
Imagine the navigational challenge of finding the target by relying solely on a simple compass
and a watch.
Looking forward, his right arm resting on his knee, teenager represents the vast number
of young men who rushed to join the military following the bombing of Pearl Harbor.
Only nineteen years old, and with the barest minimum of training, pilots like teenager
had to learn the job, on the job.
He pays attention to every word being spoken at the briefing, since his very life depends
on doing everything right during the day's mission.
Often pilots were not allowed to carry maps that could reveal the location of their base
if shot down.
Eager Beaver is shown riding onto the palm of his hand, noting the heading and distance
to the target.
This was done with the knowledge that his sweat during combat would erase the notes.
With a skeptical expression on his face and a cigarette in his hand, Lucky Strike represents
a more experienced airman, listening to the briefing but not entirely buying it.
Reports that the weather would be good or enemy defenses would be weak had proven unreliable
in the past, and now he exhibits a healthy skepticism.
For this pilot, the adage that no battle plan survives contact with the enemy has proven
correct too many times.
With his hand raised and questioned on his lips, Montana represents a newer pilot with
a question during the briefing.
There was no time for formal training regarding air tactics, so newer pilots often had to
pick up vital knowledge and skills during the briefing immediately before the mission.
Glancing at his watch, speed verifies its accuracy.
He reminds us that mission success in the time of World War II depended on precise
coordination.
Squadrons of fighters and bombers were only able to rendezvous by accurate synchronized
timing.
It was imperative for all pilots to match their wind-up wristwatches before each mission.
The five spirits are shown fading away before our eyes.
For those wearing goggles and oxygen masks, the fact that we cannot see their faces symbolizes
the loss of their identity.
War has robbed us of ever knowing them.
Each of the spirits gives us a harrowing view into some of the tragic ways airmen lost their
lives in World War II combat.
Frenchy depicts the spirit of a pilot killed in combat the day before, his hands resting
on the shoulders of his fellow airmen.
Gently touching his comrades signifies a bond that cannot be broken, even by death.
He urges his comrades to learn vital lessons from yesterday's mission in which he was lost.
Good looking made an error in judgment by leaving a squadron to pursue an enemy fighter
on his own.
Although he was able to destroy the target, his choice to fight one-on-one exposed him
to other enemy pilots who shot and damaged his right wing.
Pinned into his cockpit by high G forces, he was unable to climb out of the cockpit and
went down with the plane.
His spirit now stands silently, bearing witness to the mounting loss of life as the war progresses.
Two spirits stand behind the squadron reliving the final mission they flew together.
Studd and his inexperienced wingman Lonesome corkscrewed through the air while protecting
a flight of bombers from enemy fighters.
During the chaos of combat, Lonesome lost focus for an instant and collided with Studd,
causing both their deaths.
His head downcast, Lonesome embodies deep regret, knowing that he had been the cause
of not only his own death, but that of his comrade.
Studd, with his hand on Lonesome's shoulder comforts his wingman, knowing that the mistake
that caused their deaths was simply a result of the overall chaos around them.
Tail End Charlie was a term given to the last airplane in a formation.
This position was the highest risk and was typically occupied by the newest members of
the squadron.
Kneeling beside the other pilots, we see Tail End Charlie.
In spite of limited training and no prior combat experience, he found himself at treetop
height, flying along at 400 miles an hour, trying to follow his element leader while
dodging enemy fighters and ground fire.
In the midst of his confusion and sensory overload, he was killed by enemy fire on his
very first mission.
He regrets he wasn't able to be of more help to the squadron.
Later in the war, the US achieved air superiority.
Handsome is shown here with a casual posture and a cup of coffee.
He embodies the growing sense of confidence that the Allies will prevail.
The empty spaces on the benches convey a deep symbolism.
In one sense, these seats were once occupied by the sculptor and the other survivor who
went on to enjoy full and fruitful lives thanks to the sacrifice made by their comrades.
We should also think of the empty seats as symbolizing us, lest we forget that we too
are the beneficiaries of the ultimate sacrifice paid by the more than 88,000 US airmen killed
in World War II.
