Veterans remember good and bad times during visits to monuments in Washington, D.C.

Ray Hale was shaken by World War II before he made it to his first deployment.

"We were working on nighttime takeoffs and landings. And the bigwigs started calling us in and explained that two planes had collided," said the 85-year-old Zanesville native, recalling flight training in Hutcheson, Kan. when he was just 18. "So we beat it over to the ambulances and got out there to where the planes landed down in a ditch. And they started taking those guys out."

One of the crewman who died in the crash was a close bunkmate of his.

"His name was Haines. They asked me if I would accompany his remains home to Youngstown," Ray said, with a slight tremor in his voice that he shook off. "But I just couldn't do it, to go there and face his family. I was told him I would be on undetermined time, where I had no deadline to come back. But I just couldn't do it. There were several nights I had problems sleeping after that. That wasn't anything to see when you are 18."

That memory, among others, came back to Ray as he, Gene Mautz, of Zanesville, and 76 other World War II veterans were in Washington, D.C., on Oct. 22 as part of Honor Flight Columbus.

The veterans toured the World War II Memorial, Air Force Memorial, Tomb of the Unknown Soldier at Arlington National Cemetery, the Marine Corps War Memorial and the Franklin Delano Roosevelt Memorial.

Even the toughest of exteriors couldn't help but get lost in the memories and the emotions of the day.

Each of them knew someone who made the greatest sacrifice, those they consider the real heroes.

What makes a hero?

Mautz, an 89-year-old Army veteran, never considered himself a hero or thought his deployment was significant in terms of the war effort.

As part of the Army's 457th Engineering Depot Company, he helped load pallets of concrete and steel, fuel and asphalt tar, the raw materials of the Allies' push into Europe.

So when he and the others arrived at Baltimore-Washington International Airport, and his wheelchair was pushed through a tunnel comprised of military personnel -- including a group of midshipmen who came up from the U.S. Naval Academy at Annapolis, Md. -- and Honor Flight ground crew members, he was almost speechless.

"It's just so special. I just about lost it there," he said.

His brother, Roger Mautz, of Mount Perry, who also went on the flight, had the makings of tears in his eyes, too.

Roger is a veteran who missed out on World War II, serving a stint in the Navy from 1946 to 1948 as a mate on a tug boat.

He was asked to go on the Honor Flight first, but suggested his brother Gene instead, because he actually had served during wartime.

"I figured, my service record wasn't much, I wasn't any kind of hero, I didn't feel I really deserved it either," he said. "The ones that really have the praise coming are those that were fighting and dying."

For the Mautz brothers, thoughts turn to three of their cousins, one who was killed and two others who had near misses.

Perry Mautz was killed by a German sniper in the Battle of the Bulge, while Robert Mautz was on a B-17 that made an emergency landing in Greenland and later was shot down over German positions. Robert was a POW for 14 months. Richard Mautz parachuted onto a Japanese-held island in the Pacific to get behind enemy lines. Several of his fellow soldiers missed their landing and went over a cliff to their deaths.

"I think about their stories, and all of the others I heard," Gene said. "I hate to call myself a vet, knowing what those guys went through. But it's something I will never forget."

For Ray, the war also was something that was far away from his deployment in San Diego with the Navy's Coastal Patrol unit.

"I'm not a hero by any means, at least I don't think so. I was just doing what I thought I ought to do, like everyone who joined the service did then," he said.

A shared experience

Each of the veterans experienced something different, whether a memory of charging up a hill at Utah Beach, how cold the Air Corps station was in Nome, Alaska, or relaying messages at a busy air station on Guam.

Gene said the World War II Memorial made him think about all of the everyday heroes it takes to support the troops.

"For every guy that was fighting, there was like 1,000 men and women behind him, making tanks, making bullets, making the guns for the bullets, back home," Gene said. "The kids collecting copper and scrap for the war effort. "

Blaine Hunkins, a Navy veteran who was born and raised in Zanesville, was "just a radio man, a paper-pusher," he said. But he did serve two tours on Guam, a key island link for U.S. forces in the Pacific.

"To think a lot of these guys had the same kind of experiences, is the best part of the trip for me," Blaine said.

The biggest moment for him, he said, was seeing the 4,000 gold stars that adorn the Freedom Wall at the World War II Memorial, each symbolizing 1,000 soldiers who died in the war.

At Arlington National Cemetery, Roger left his brother, Gene, behind on the bus so he wouldn't miss the Changing of the Guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.

"I always hated guard duty, but words can't describe what I'm feeling right now. My hands are shaking. It's an experience to see that," he said.

Curtis Allen, a native of Nashport, appreciated watching a soldier on his guard.

Attached to an engineering outfit as a dispatcher and machinist -- he served in the Army from 1942 to 1945 -- he had to be on his toes as he and others huddled in trenches amongst bushes on the hillside at Utah Beach.

"I was there five days after D-Day, there weren't many bullets, but we had to watch the German bombers," Curtis said. "I just remember the sky being full of planes towing gliders and bombers all day long."

Curtis said he most was affected by hearing the stories recalled by other vets on the trip.

"You don't realize it until you start talking to all of these people, that they went through the same things as you," he said, his eyes glazing over as he looked away. "And to think when we came home, we were put on a darn bus, given $20 and found out there weren't any jobs when we got back. We all pretty much had that same kind of experience. It just gives you a funny feeling."

A new homecoming

When they arrived at the Baltimore-Washington International Airport, the Honor Flight group had prepared their welcome. A festive atmosphere at the airport is all about providing a "welcome home, heroes" feel to the event, Honor Flight Coordinator Bill Richards said.

"Some of them never had a big parade or anything when they came home," Richards said. "That's what we do for them when they get here and when they get back. It's an honor to do this for them."

The veterans also were greeted by members of a Harley-Davidson club from Annapolis, which provided an honor guard escort from the airport to Washington.

At the end of the day, another group of riders, from the Laurel, Md., American Legion, stood at the airport entrance waving flags and thanking the veterans for their service.

A tear rolled down Gene's face as he was greeted by about 100 well-wishers when entering the airport.

"I just can't believe it. I don't know what to tell you," the Army veteran said, his lips quivering, turning his head to the side.

Ray was caught up in the moment, as well, as he was trailed by his grandson-in-law, David McBride. McBride also is a Navy veteran, of Desert Shield and Desert Storm in 1990-91.

"It's just overwhelming, to see all of these people out here," Ray said.

Gene and Roger also got a big surprise when they exited their bus near the World War II Memorial, and the tears began again, this time of joy.

Awaiting the Mautz brothers was Gene's son, Ron Mautz, of Zanesville, and stepgrandson Chris Penny, himself a U.S. Marine who now lives in the D.C. area.

"This is pretty neat, quite an experience for these guys," Ron Mautz said.

Ray was just taken aback by the crush of people at the memorial's entrance.

"It's like the old military -- hurry up and wait," he said with a small laugh.

After the veterans made their way through the memorial, there was time for some quiet reflection before boarding the bus for another next stop.

Ray recalled how the kids he went to school with in South Zanesville were drafted, so his mother and father signed him up.

"I just felt it was my duty, that I had to go wherever they needed me," he said. "I think we all did."

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