The Families Who Waited Too Long: Preserving Dignity Through Remembrance

By Aaron Flahaut, President & Founder

More than five decades have passed since six young Air Force Security Police members from Ellsworth Air Force Base were lost in a helicopter crash outside Wall, South Dakota. Yet for their families, the memory of that day in 1971 remains painfully vivid. Time may have softened the years, but it never closed the wound.

In speaking with the relatives of the fallen - two sisters of Airman First Class Larry Hughes, the brother and sister of Sergeant David Cloe, the widow of Sergeant Bernard Blake, and the sister of Sergeant Glen Wilson - the emotion was unmistakable. Their words revealed a grief that never faded and a longing for recognition that had gone unanswered for far too long.

“Why Now?”

Each conversation began with a common question: “Why now?”

After more than 50 years, that question carried both sorrow and relief. There was frustration that their brothers, husbands, and fathers had gone so long without national acknowledgement, but also gratitude that someone had finally remembered. Many had quietly assumed the story had been lost to history.

The widow of Bernard Blake recalled the pain of losing her husband so early in life. He had left behind a baby daughter. The family kept his memory alive through photos and stories.

The families of Glen Wilson, David Cloe, and Larry Hughes expressed similar emotions. They were proud of their loved ones’ service, but the long silence from official recognition had left them feeling as though that service had somehow been overlooked. As one family member said, “We always remembered him, but it’s hard when it feels like no one else did.”

Service Beyond the Battlefield

Several of the men, including Sergeant David Cloe, had served in Vietnam before returning home to continue their Air Force careers. For some family members, that raised an additional question about how America honors those who die performing the daily duties that make military service possible.

It’s an uncomfortable truth: our national memory tends to center on wars, and battles. But service members who die outside of combat may fade into obscurity, their sacrifices, categorized as accidents rather than acts of service. Their reflections made clear that remembrance should never depend on where or how someone died, but why they were there in the first place: serving their country and upholding their oath.

The Human Side of History

The process of reconnecting with these families was humbling and emotional. Tracking down phone numbers, and waiting on returned calls became more than research. Some of the families had moved on geographically but not emotionally. When contacted, they spoke openly about the day the received the news, the folded flags, and the long years of silence that followed. Many were hesitant at first, wondering whether this renewed attention would truly bring closure. But as the process continued, that hesitation gave way to hope.

These moments revealed something universal about loss, service, and remembrance. Time does not erase the duty we have to those who gave everything, nor does it lessen the nation’s responsibility to honor them.

Carrying Their Names Forward

The stories shared by the families of Hughes, Cloe, Blake, Wilson, Wright, and Brock remind us that remembrance is not just ceremonial. Their lives and their loss compel us to act, to ensure that every service member who dies in duty, whether in war or in routine operations, recieves the honor they deserve.

The Forgotten Sacrifices Project carries their legacy forward, built on the love and persistence of families who never stopped remembering. Their strength reminds us that our duty to the fallen does not end with their passing, but it continues with our commitment to remember.

As long as we speak their names, they are not forgotten.