Tribute to Lt. J.G. Robert E. Sterling

Bealocwealm hafað fréone frecan forth
onsended?giedd sculon singan
gléomenn sorgiende on Meduselde
þæt he ma no wære,
his dryhtne dyrest and mæga deorost

'An evil death has set forth the noble warrior
A song shall sing sorrowing minstrels in Meduseld…"
'that he is no more,
to his lord dearest and of kinsmen most beloved'
— sung by Éowyn in The Two Towers

Grammaboodawg and Daughter of Nienna
Together pay Loving Tribute
to the memory of Lt.J.G. Robert Elmer Sterling
Gramma's Uncle and
a Guardian Angel
Who fell from the skies to his doom
Protecting the people and the nation that he loved

Grandma was widowed when Uncle Bob was 14. She raised 4 sons and 1 daughter alone since the beginning of the depression. She lost 2 of her 4 sons during WWII while the other two both served in the Marines. It helped Grandma when a fellow pilot who was with Bob during his last battle contacted her after the war and told her he saw Bob's plane dive through the enemy flack over and over, attacking the enemy ships. When the attack was broken off, he saw Bob pull out of his last dive and turn with the rest of the aircraft as they headed back to the American fleet. Bob's plane was shot up, yet he was still in control... but he and his navigator never made it back. It's unknown if the plane finally failed from multiple hits, if Bob succumbed to injuries, or if they ran out of fuel. It's sad, but we never knew what the navigator's name was. All we know is that he was from New Jersey. Their records were lost in a government office fire in St. Louis in the mid-1960s along with thousands of other military/veteran's records.

In 1997, I visited the abandoned, 100+ year old family farm in Ohio for the first time in over 25 years. I also visited the graves of my Uncles, Aunt, Grandparents, and Great Grandparents... generations of my Dad's family. But it was then I noticed there was no marker for Uncle Bob. I decided to contact the Government about getting the standard bronze marker for all veterans. I ran into some pretty strange roadblocks. They initially denied me in a September 3, 1998 letter responding to my May 11, 1998 request. Part of my problem of getting the marker was that the government wanted me to supply the paperwork that he'd been cremated or buried. They didn't read the attachments telling that he was lost at sea and his records were destroyed in the fire. After a couple more years of jousting, I got Uncle Bob's marker and had it mounted on his father's headstone in Ohio.

During one of our recent discussions on TORn, I mentioned that somewhere at one of Hawaii's War Memorials, there was a marker for Bob. As you'll see in Daughter of Nienna's incredible journey, she generously offered to go on a Quest in search for Uncle Bob because she lives near the Memorial I spoke about. Let's just say I'm staggered by what she discovered and how she's dedicated hours of research, journeying and creativity into bringing my Uncle to life more than I ever imagined. When I told my Mother and family that she not only found him but was creating this tribute for him, they were deeply moved. We'd always talked about him and he's always been considered one of the jewels of the family, but this has brought him closer to us than ever before.

We grew up knowing Bob's story; but since my visit to the farm (now being restored by our family after 30 years empty), he had become someone very real to me. I can't thank Daughter of Nienna enough for taking on the Quest of finding Uncle Bob's mark on the Memorial in Hawaii. Now I need to get to Ohio and get a picture of his veteran's plaque!

Even though I never knew Uncle Bob, I've noticed that in every picture I've seen of him... he's smiling. I'm told he was brilliant. Studies and challenges came easily to him. He was very tall... 6'4". I would think that it would have been quite a challenge for a pilot in such a confined warplane. He was also a consummate joker. His brothers and he were incredibly close and always did things together. I would have loved to hang out with him and hear stories that, I'm sure, would have me riveted for hours and hours. — Grammaboodawg

Photo Album of
Lt. J.G. Robert E. Sterling

Uncle Bob and my Dad as boys visiting the farm.

Grandma and Bob during his last stateside visit in 1942.

Dad and Mom shortly after their marriage in 1943.

A caricature of Bob by a friend.

Bob in his pilot's gear

Uncle Bob on the porch
with two little cousins at the farm in Ohio

The pictures of the young ladies with Uncle Bob on the porch are two little cousins and all were visiting my Great-Uncle Virgil's farm in Ohio. It's the family farm that was virtually abandoned after my Uncle passed away in the mid 1960s. It was built by our family in 1876 and didn't have electricity until the 1950s and no plumbing until my cousins returned and we all started to restore it in 1998. It's in the middle of nowhere in Amish country; and when you go down the nearly mile-long lane to get to the farm house, barn and outhouses... you feel like you've crossed over into another time, ancient, simple... probably a lot like entering Lorien, come to think of it. We visited that farm all the whole while I was a little girl. It was so special, and this town is where the cemetery is where Uncle Bob's plaque is :)

Top: Andy and Jimmy
Bottom: Bob and Dad (John)

Bob in the cockpit of Dauntless





Remember to read the tribute pages below
Bob's story is there!

Nú on théostrum licgeth Robert se léofa
hæ´letha holdost.
ne sceal hearpan sweg wigend weccean;
ne winfæ´t gylden guma sceal healdan,
ne god hafoc geond sæ´l swingan,
ne se swifta mearh burhstede beatan.
Bealocwealm hafað fréone frecan forth onsended
giedd sculon singan gléomenn sorgiende
on Meduselde thæt he ma no wære
his dryhtne dyrest and maga deorost.


Now dear Robert lies in darkness,
most loyal of fighters.
The sound of the harp shall not wake the warrior;
nor shall the man hold a golden wine-cup,
nor good hawk swing through the hall,
nor the swift horse stamp in the courtyard.
An evil death has set forth the noble warrior
A song shall sing sorrowing minstrels
in Meduseld that he is no more,
to his lord dearest and kinsmen most beloved.
— Lament for Théodred



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