We take a break from hunting to bring you a hero.

Our country lost a great patriot today. A true hero. My grandfather, known to the world as James Napier Gatch, known to me as Papa. When he was very young, WWII was beginning, and he enlisted in the Army and was a waist gunner on the B-17 Flying Fortress. He was shot down on May 13, 1944, and endured just at a year as a Prisoner of War. Purple Heart Recipient. He endured things many of us can’t even begin to imagine. He was recently interviewed by my cousin Lainie and his story was recorded in the Library of Congress. He was part of our country’s Greatest Generation.

He was a true man of God, a family man, father of 5 boys (Lord bless him and my grandma… FIVE BOYS?!?!) He loved his wife fiercely and was a devoted husband, father, and grandfather. He kept the family coming together with reunions annually on his bride’s birthday weekend, which was also the anniversary of her passing. He was an amazing patriarch, and as such, raised his 5 sons to be great men. One of those sons raised me, and I think he did a pretty darn good job. He was direct, he had no problem telling you how he felt. He would sometimes saying something so bluntly, he made his opinions known. He had the most wonderful heart, and used it to love his Lord, his family, and his country.

My Papa, he truly loved our great nation and to his dying day proclaimed it the greatest nation on Earth, and that it is still worth fighting for. He was right. On all counts.

He was a Southern gentleman with a beautiful accent, that, realistically, if you’re not from the South, you would have a difficult time understanding what he said. He taught me the deliciousness of boiled peanuts. He was very gifted in woodworking,and he lived in his home in South Carolina until the day he passed. He was so many things to so many people, and he will be greatly missed.

He was diagnosed with brain cancer a short time ago. he was at peace with it, and decided that at his age of 96 (nearly 97) years, he was not going to seek treatment for the cancer. He was ready to go home. To be with his bride, and with his son who had also passed. Today, he took a sharp downturn in his health, and was placed on hospice. A few hours after I got the news of his downturn, I called my uncle Chuck, who lived with Papa and helped care for him. I called him at 6:20 SC time. I just said, “I just want you to know that I love you. And tell Papa I love him. I know this is a really tough time, and I just felt like I needed to call you and tell you that.” He told me that Papa was resting comfortably and that they loved me too. About an hour later I got a call from my mom that my Papa passed at 6:30, just a few minutes after I called. I am so thankful that God put it in my heart to call Chuck at that point. I cannot imagine the pain of sitting with your parent as they take their last breath. I hope I was in a small way able to offer him a little comfort.

Please raise a glass, say a prayer, and be thankful for the amazing people in your life that shaped you into what you are today. He was one of the ones who did this for me. He was my final living grandparent, and my heart is very sad. He will never be forgotten. He will live in our hearts forever. He leaves behind a large family who will miss him. Please say a prayer for us.

I’m attaching links of articles on him, so you can see how amazing he truly was.

https://www.amc.af.mil/News/Features/Display/Article/149849/never-forget-world-war-ii-airman-pow-shares-story-of-resiliency/

https://valor.militarytimes.com/hero/355606

https://wach.com/news/local/former-wwii-prisoners-of-war-honored-with-state-medals

http://memory.loc.gov/diglib/vhp/bib/loc.natlib.afc2001001.115649

Sergeant James Napier Gatch

March 7, 1923- January 28, 2020

I’m going to add what my cousin said, because she really summed him up so well.

“My sweet grandfather, James Gatch, passed away today at nearly 97 years old. If you know me, chances are you've heard me share a funny axiom of his (the "I have a PhD in common sense, and that ain't too common" variety), or a story that underscores his uncanny ability to cut to the chase of any situation, or - most likely - I've unabashedly bragged to you about how proud I am of him. He lived through the Depression in rural South Carolina alongside his five siblings, then served his country in WW2, a year of which was in a Nazi prison camp, and finally returned home where his greatest accomplishment awaited - marrying Frances Wrenn of Tattnall County after a swift courtship. Together, they raised five wily boys, endured hardships, skipped up and down the Atlantic seaboard and truly enjoyed the last of their 57 years together. Theirs was a love that was deep, honest, abiding and rooted in a steadfast faith. Witnessing it is something I'll treasure for all my days.

Papa was wise, not in a lettered way, but in a lived way. His advice was always quick, decisive, often unsolicited, and had the unequivocal ring of seasoned truth. Many times he told me a simple life is the best life. When Pete and I were engaged, Papa sat us down and instructed us to love the Lord, love our family and love our country. "If you can do that, Lainie, everything else will fall into place." And for him, it did. Time and again, I saw his faith support him and comfort him as he faced what seemed insurmountable - the loss of his wife and of his son.

Fortunately, I was able to visit with him a few weeks ago when my uncle shared with us that his cancer had invaded his brain. In true James Gatch fashion, he was giving directives, requesting meals, tidying up affairs, but he was also saying what needed to be said. He told me and my uncles how proud he was of his life, that he loved us, how he had made peace with death, and that his hope was not in this world. Not only did he teach us how to live, but he was also teaching us how to die. What a gift.

Soon, my family and I will lay him to rest in his family plot alongside his beloved Frances Wrenn and his youngest boy, though we will not bury his love, his works, nor his legacy. His love endures in every bedtime snuggle with my kids, every family meal that begins with folded hands, in every spoonful of cornbread dressing and in each inferior attempt I make at his sour cream coconut pound cake. I can't wait to hug your neck again one day, Papa. You have finished the race, and we are all better for it.”