JOHN R. LUND

John R. Lund, 88, died on Monday, Feb. 14, 2005, at NHC Health Care in Oak Ridge, Tenn.

Services were held in Oak Ridge on Feb. 16, 2005.

He is survived by his wife of 58 years, Esther, of Oak Ridge; his children and their families: Jeff and Diane Lund and their son, Jesse, of Arlington, Va.; John Richard and Nancy Lund and their children, Carissa and Gunnar, of Bozeman; Jennifer Lund and Bryan Anderson of Atlanta, Ga.; and Eric Lund and Julia Alexander, and their son, Alexander, of Dothan, Ala.

He is also survived by his sister, Margaret (Maggi) and

her husband, Norman Watson, of Wichita, Kan.

John R. Lund, the original, was born Feb. 19, 1916, in Kinsley, Kan. to Clarence J. Lund and Ruth Crockett Lund. He arrived on a "wing and a prayer" weighing in at a mere 3 pounds. He was so small they used a drawer for his bed.

Despite the lack of modern incubators he proved he was a survivor, and he grew up on the family wheat farm in Ensign, Kan., with two younger sisters, Bernice and Margaret.

As a young man he joined the Army Infantry and was later selected by the Army to be a fighter pilot. As a fighter pilot he flew the P-38 and the P-47 in 471/2 missions over Germany. His 47th mission was cut short when his P-47 was hit by enemy gunfire, and he was he was forced to bail out. While ejecting from the plane his legs hit the tail section and were crushed.

When he landed a German officer prevented the town's people from killing him but took him prisoner, and he remained in

Frankfurt as a POW until the end of war. This happened on March 19, 1945, and was celebrated thereafter as "bail out" day by his family and friends.

When the war ended he spent two years at Cushings General Veteran's Hospital in Framingham, Mass., for post war rehab and recovery.

While there he met a young worker, Esther McNiff, of Hudson, Mass. They were married on May 29, 1946, in the hospital chapel with friends in attendance on stretchers, in casts and on crutches.

As a young couple they returned to his home state where he enrolled in the University of Kansas and pursued a degree in analytical chemistry.

During this time, Jeffrey Francis and John Richard (the unoriginal) were born. They moved to Oak Ridge in 1950, when he took a position in Chemistry at Union Carbide. They established their home there and two more children, Jennifer Ann and Eric Conrad, joined the family.

As John R. Lund he passed down his name and initial to his second son, but his middle name, Rufus, was not a named to be carried on. How the original John Lund got his "unique" middle name was a story he told: a childless banker in Kinsley, Kan., had promised his father, Clarence, a team of mules if he named a son after him. John got the name, but his father didn't get the mules, so the name wasn't passed on.

As a father he serenaded his children at bedtime with "Go to Sleep My Little Buckaroo", became a stamp collector with his Boy Scout sons, was a lifelong teacher, true friend, and a best man. He was proud of each of his children, and they "looked up to him no matter how tall they grew."

As a grandpa he rocked his grandchildren to sleep, gladly held them even during three hour naps, and he would patiently let them change the rules when playing Candyland. During his visits he would give them command of the cane his WWII injury required him to use, so he affectionately became known as "Grandpa with a stick."

As a retired chemist he and Esther traveled the country to attend his beloved 347th Fighting Group (the Dynamite Gang) reunions, went on yearly trips in the fall to Esther's native New England, and once the grandchildren arrived, visited Arlington, Bozeman and Dothan.

He was a member of St. Mary's Catholic Church and the Wheat Investment Club.

As a WWII veteran and Air Force Major he taught us to value and respect our country. Through him we learned there is nothing greater than walking on American soil and breathing in the greatness of freedom. Describing the sight of the flag upon his return from the war he inspired us to look at the flag with our heart and forever fly it with pride.

As a summer visitor to Montana he enjoyed his daily ventures to the MSU Math Department and visits with Brenda and Elizabeth, barbecues with the Sheffields and a friendly stop at the Cannery. He was the smiling face in the crowd at the Augusta Rodeo no matter what the weather. Each year he looked forward to his stay at the Young Ranch in Augusta, but the highlight was always the cattle drive to the mountains.

He would swear us all to secrecy ("Don't tell Esther'), Mark and Julie would help him saddle up, and he would grin from ear to ear as he joined in the adventure.

He never tasted a bad watermelon, loved tomatoes, little Claussen dill pickles, and, having spent time as a POW, didn't complain about or leave any food on his plate. He said, "once you have been that hungry you always appreciate what is given to you and don't waste it." However, he gladly passed up potatoes, because he had been served one too many rotten ones as a POW.

Grandpa John was known for his unwavering patience, quiet intelligence and his amazing memory. He retained the smallest details and related them in his many stories. He will long be remembered for his two dollar bill tips at restaurants, the signature P-38 bookmarks he distributed to all, and the

bolo tie and white 347th Fighter Group jacket he wore daily.