THE WALL OF FACES

Although we never met personally, I want to thank you James L. Busen, for your courageous and valiant service, faithful contribution, and most holy sacrifice, given to this great country of ours!

Your Spirit is alive--and strong, therefore, you shall never be forgotten, nor has your death been in vain!

Again, thank you Sailor, for a job well done!

FAIR WINDS, AND ETERNAL PEACE MY FRIEND

My memories of you? How do I start? You were born in 1949 ..first born and a son! Those were your special years by yourself with our folks, after that you had three brothers and four sisters to contend with! The stories were great... driving a tractor at the age of 4... right into the side of the house! A proud altar boy at 9, with a paper route... and you helped to carry coal and water for Mrs. Robinson. "She sure loved you". On to school (and how you loved basketball! You worked as a contractor's helper and saved your paychecks to buy a car. Would it be that 4-speed Mustang or that beautiful ragtop! You could hardly make up your mind but the ragtop won. How you polished that car, everyone teased that it wouldn't have any paint left, but you didn't care. You were so proud and so were we. When you moved away to Springfield for your job and came home on weekends, we waited by the front door for Friday night to come, and helped you unload your car. Then you decided to join the Navy. You were only 20 and we hated to see you go, but you patted your car, told us to take care of the "old bomb" and off you went, with that fantastic grin on your face. I can't remember a picture of you now without that grin. We counted the days until you came home from Gulfport and then you were here and the days flew. Your next leave would be your last until you left for Vietnam. We lived for your letters again. They were so cheerful yet it sounded as though it was raining every day. And then the Navy man and Father came to tell us you had died and a piece of all of us died that day. Dick brought you home to us and the town said it's final farewell. The flags all flew at half-mast and the stores closed and the American Legion saluted your casket at every intersection all the way to the cemetery. We flew the flag every day in your honor and the town named a street after you. You wouldn't have wanted that, but they did. You and all the others will never be forgotten.

I turned 13 on the day my oldest brother shipped out for Vietnam. I've not had a birthday pass in the last 30 years that my thoughts don't turn to that memory.
I wish he could of met my 3 children, with the oldest being named after him.

Butch was the nickname of our brother. He was the oldest of eight children born to James and Wanda Busen. He came from a small town where everyone knew him and his 1967 Ford Galaxy 500 Convertible. After 30 years, he is still greatly missed for the joy he would have brought to us all.

01-10-99 Charlotte, his sister