 This is the story of a quiet American, a dedicated soldier. It is a story about a Medal of Honor winner who unhesitatingly laid down his life on the field of battle. It is a story that illustrates magnificently the finest qualities of the American soldier. It is a story told for the first time of Private First Class Joe E. Mann. This Army presents The Big Picture. An official report produced for the armed forces and the American people. Skilled, tough, resourceful, expertly trained and conditioned. These men are ready for whatever harrowing demands might exist on any battlefield. This is the American soldier today, combat ready to defend the security of the United States. Behind him is a long line of valiant defenders in American history, whose traditional background of personal courage and bravery brought victory on the field of battle. It is difficult to explain the secret of courage, bravery, heroism, the will to win. Whatever we call it, however we define it. This is the quality that has made the American soldier unparalleled as a fighting man. Private First Class Joe Mann, paratrooper with 101st Airborne Division in World War II, was such a man. Joe Mann's contribution to his country was the supreme effort, above and beyond the call of duty. The sacrifice of his life to save the lives of his fellow men while fighting in the defense of his country. On the 30th of August 1945, Private First Class Joe Mann was posthumously awarded the highest tribute a grateful nation can bestow upon a soldier who has served his country. The Medal of Honor awarded for gallantry in action near the little town of Best Holland during the Allied airborne invasion of that German occupied country in the autumn of 1944. The people of Holland where Joe Mann gave his life have not forgotten him. Theirs was not just a temporary burst of emotion in the excitement of liberation. Their gratitude and recognition of this American soldier are forever etched in their memory. This is the story of that recognition. This is the story of Joe Mann. When Bill McGibney and I started our tour of Holland, I'm Jim Parsons, the one with the camera, the big fellow as McGibney. Neither one of us had heard of Joe Mann. We were two American soldiers on leave doing the things any tourist would do. Traveling, sightseeing, enjoying the beauties of Europe. Holland is a lovely, peaceful country today with landscapes seemingly taken from picture postcards, especially the windmills. We stopped often to enjoy the picturesque scenery on every side, a real pleasure after a long day of driving. We were eventually going to Amsterdam, but this was a vacation and we were taking it easy, really soaking up the atmosphere of the country and liking it. Like all soldiers on leave, we wanted to see as much of the country as possible. The small towns and the big cities as well. We wanted to meet people and talk to them, try out our fractured Dutch and get to know these people. The Hollanders were always friendly, unfailingly polite, eager to help and indeed very attractive. Occasionally we'd get lost and you can see why, but it didn't worry us. There was always someone around to check with, usually a policeman, and they always seemed to be able to straighten us out and put us on our way again. They've seen lots of tourists before. Our Dutch apparently was understandable although most of the time the answers came back in English, which is a second language to most of the people of Holland. So we felt quite at home. The traffic is home like too. There are thousands of bicycles in Holland and as they have equal rank with cars, the same rights, the same responsibilities, everyone young and old uses them and no one finds them undignified to ride. The roads are really good, well paved and straight, but you can't rush in Holland too many things to see and many pictures to take. I think McGivney is a farmer at heart. Bill certainly was fascinated by them. The farm boys didn't mind, they really like Americans. World War II was a long time ago, but they haven't forgotten our role in the liberation of their country. One day we arrived at a small town named Best. As usual, we couldn't resist the picture taking and when we spotted an old man carrying those famous wooden shoes, we asked if he would let us take some pictures. We snapped away to our hearts content, feeling that this was part of the real Holland, as unmistakably Dutch as the windmills. The Dutch kids we saw were really cute. They looked healthy and happy just like American kids. This was Holland, but the emblem they had on their shirts was American. This was something of a mystery because that's the screaming eagle patch of the U.S. Army's 101st Airborne Division. What was this all about? We had time to find out, so we ran after the group and caught up with one of the group leaders. Introduced ourselves and asked her about the patch. Her name was Marika van kinderen and the patch was in honor of PFC Joe Mann, the pirate trooper of the 101st Airborne Division. Well, we had to find out about this and as they were willing to tell us the story, along we went with them. They were hiking to a park for an afternoon outing. The park was delightful, cool, pleasant, typical of the Dutch. We found a well-shaded spot close to the edge of a pond where the children could sit and watch the swans and ducks while we talked. Stephen and the other monitor had brought feed for the birds and the kids really got in on the act. Marika prepared to tell us the story of Joe Mann, an American hero of Holland. In September 1944, she recalled, a whole Allied army dropped from the skies into Holland to cut off the German positions. There was fierce fighting with soldiers of the American 101st Airborne Division right in the thick of it. Joe Mann's platoon was surrounded at the Wilhelmina Canal, just outside of Best. Joe was an ordinary soldier, but he knocked out an enemy 88, an ammunition dump, and was wounded four times. Even so, he insisted on standing guard that night. The enemy attacked again the next morning. A grenade fell close to Joe and to save his platoon, he threw himself on it and died. It was a moving story, the death of a soldier who died to save his buddies. In 1945, his country recognized officially his heroic sacrifice by awarding to him posthumously the nation's highest military award, the Medal of Honor. But the story didn't end there. Ten years later, it came to life again through the efforts of the town's people of Best. Marika suggested that if we had time, she could have Stephen take us to the town hall at Best. There we could hear the story that followed from the actual persons who were responsible. On the way over, she suggested we stop at the Wilhelmina Canal, the scene of the battle. We had to hear the rest of the story now, any soldier would. We drove to the canal and parked near the bridge where the fighting had taken place years ago. Stephen told us how the paratroopers were dug in along the canal bank and showed us the spot where Joe Mann fought and died. It was hard to visualize the violence and destruction at this spot, now so quiet and deserted with little trace of that long-ago battle. Yet it was good to know that what had happened here, that autumn, had not been forgotten by the Dutch people. How well they remembered, we were defined when we arrived at the town hall. The town secretary, Mr. Ofi, immediately made us feel at home when we told him why we had come. He was very pleased to hear that Marika had sent us to him and was struck by the fact that our quest had started with a glimpse of the screaming eagle patch worn by the children of the best. Bill told him Marika's story of the airborne operation and of Joe Mann's part in the fighting at the canal. Leaving us in good hands, Stephen excused himself to rejoin the children. Mr. Ofi, a true hollander, was a gracious host. He insisted that we be made comfortable first and extended to us a sample of the cordiality we'd already come to know and expect in Holland. Our curiosity had to wait for the moment. The obligations of hospitality must be observed. And they were. And now we would hear the story of the people of best who had paid homage to an American soldier as told by Mr. Ofi. In 1954, Mr. Wittebrew, the newspaper editor here, was searching for a story to commemorate the 10th anniversary of our liberation. His paper was the Bata Korya, the house organ of the famous Shoe Factor. He found his story when he read the book Rendezvous with Destin, the official history of the American 101st Airborne Division. He learned in detail what Joe Mann had done for us here in Best. When he wrote his story for his paper, he suggested that the people of Best considered the creation of a permanent memorial for this great American soldier. When he sent it to the print shop to be put into type, he had little idea of what would happen. He expected a reaction. He didn't expect a sensation. For that's what occurred when the story came off the presses. The story spread like wildfire. First in the factory where hundreds of Bata employees read it in the paper, messengers carried the paper to other factories. And postmen distributed the Korya to subscribers throughout the town and countryside of Best. Everyone heard of the story. It was read by housewives, by mechanics, and gasoline station attendants, by dentists and their patients, by barbers, their customers, by women in beauty parlors, and butchers, bartenders, and businessmen all over. The reaction grew into tremendous enthusiasm. Friends called friends and telephoned the town hall directly. Hundreds wrote letters. Many, many letters. The city fathers, in response to the public sentiment, took action. A committee was promptly formed by Dr. Nautamans, the mayor of Best. Editor Vita Brood was on it, of course. I was a member and many leading citizens of the town. This was the first of many meetings. We worked out a plan to honor your soldier by building a statue and an open-air theater in his memory, and by forming a Joe Mann club for the children. Mayor Nautamans dictated a letter to your government asking for permission to use the name of Joe Mann and the Screaming Eagle patch of the 101st Airborne Division and sent the request to the United States Embassy at The Hague. The request went to your Pentagon in Washington. There, it was reviewed by the authorities of the United States Army and forwarded for the necessary endorsements. It went very quickly through the channels and was sent back to us with full approval in a letter from the Embassy. It was a pleasant moment for the members of the committee to hear that your government wished us every success. While we had waited, we had been busy planning the ways to raise the money and considering different designs for the memorial. Now, we knew we could go ahead. We had decided to carve a symbolic statue in the image of a pelican for in European mythology, the pelican is revered for acts of self-sacrifice to preserve the life of its young. It was an unusual idea, perhaps, but one we felt appropriate and symbolic. The mayor had also received a special letter fully endorsing our ideas from a very important American who had been Joe Mann's commanding general, Maxwell D. Taylor, who was at this time the chief of staff of the United States Army. In September 1956, the statue and open-air theater were ready. Many people came to the dedication. Most of them were from Best, but others came from Eindhoven, a nearby town that had been liberated by the American 101st Airborne Division. Still others came from all over Holland. The 101st sent representatives, the honor soldiers of the division. And Joe Mann's parents were flown to Holland by the United States Army. It was a fitting tribute to an American soldier. Mayor Nutter Mann's made the dedication speech and Colonel McCaffrey, the military attaché from the American Embassy, delivered the eulogy. Then, Mr. and Mrs. Mann unveiled the statue to their son. I believe that in that moment, many people recalled one line from St. John in the Bible. Greater love hath no man than this that a man lay down his life for his friends. Dr. Nutter Mann, the mayor of Best, came into the office as the town secretary finished. He'd been told of our visit and he'd come to express his thanks for our taking the time to hear what the people of Best had done. He asked us if we would care to accompany him to the memorial park. The park was located on the outskirts of the town, where the children's groups could easily reach it. The statue was simple, yet striking. Seeing it now after hearing so much about it, I could understand its symbolism. For the pelican in times of hunger is known to tear strips from its own breast to feed its young. I realize now that this statue did not so much salute the person of Joe Mann, but rather the heroic qualities that made him a hero. And through him, the people were paying tribute to all American soldiers who had fallen far from home so that Holland and other countries could again be free. While we watched, the children began to fill the theater. Mayor Nutter Mann's told us that the parents of these children had created this memorial through their contributions. This was their way of telling their children that honor and courage must be revered if freedom is to prevail. It is hard to remain fully conscious, however, of the solemnity while watching the joyous faces of the children. Like children everywhere, they live for today, and today was to be one of fun. Mayor Nutter Mann's had to return to his office, but we decided to stay for the performance. We thanked the mayor for his courtesy and expressed our appreciation to the people of his town. It didn't surprise us to see Marika and Stephen with the children. They had a big hello for us and were as eager as ever to be helpful. They even offered to translate the show for us, which we gratefully accepted. The first part of the program was an old favorite of all children, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. We didn't need a translation to follow that story. It was a reminder to us of how universal fairy tales are. As a matter of fact, they originated in Europe. Next, a puppet show, a Punch and Judy affair. It was lots of fun, but it was more fun to watch the kids who put on a show of their own. Watching them, it seemed to me that Joe Mann couldn't have asked for a more wonderful way to be remembered than by these youngsters who in time to come would think back to the happy times spent in the Joe Mann Memorial Theater. Like all good things, they end too soon. We had to move on for the time was late and our leave nearly over. The unusual story of Joe Mann had brought us new friends and a new insight into the feelings of a fine people. I couldn't help feeling that U.S. Army paratrooper Joe Mann looking down from the Valhalla of great fighting men must be very proud.