Helmand Province, Afghanistan in 2009 (OEF X). Those of you who knew Brian Cowdrey will recognize him in some of the shots.
With love to the C/3-82 All American DUSTOFF family.
Soldiers warm up to Groton quilts
By Hiroko Sato of the Lowell Sun
Updated: 10/22/2011
GROTON -- Scouring for gorgeous red, white and blue fabric at stores is Jill McCaffrey's way of showing her patriotism.
Whatever sewing project she may be shopping for, McCaffrey would always be looking for star and flag prints from the corner of her eye. She would spread pieces of those and other fabric fellow quilters from the Groton Woman's Club brought over to the tables at the Groton Senior Center to put them together like a jigsaw puzzle. Before long, tri-color 42-inch-by-54-inch blankets with a handwritten thank-you note to soldiers stitched on would be shipped out to keep severely wounded men and women in uniform warm on their way to Germany for treatment.
Those who wear the blankets feel the quilters' prayers. One thank-you card from a soldier sent to Groton Woman's Club President Susan Slade said it all: "My parents could not be here but you were here for me. I will never forget you for that."
After touching the hearts of more than 200 injured soldiers, the club recently received a special award from Soldiers' Angels, a California-based national nonprofit organization that runs the Blankets of Hope project to provide soldiers with quilts made by volunteers.
"I have been holding this secret until now," Slade said as she unveiled the angel-shaped crystal trophy yesterday.
"I'm like a proud mama," she said, looking at the 15 quilters lining up to applause. With 229 quilts already made, "we are on our way to 300," Slade said.
The Groton Woman's Club recently received the Crystal Wing Award, a national award the Soldiers' Angels gives out to groups and individuals who have gone "above and beyond the call of angels." The nonprofit was founded in 2003 by Patti Patton-Bader, mother of Army Sgt. Brandon Varn, to provide aid and comfort to members of the armed forces and their families. After hearing the organization was looking for blankets for wounded soldiers in 2007, Slade and other members asked for sewing volunteers. They quickly stepped forward and began making quilts with member Jan Dillon serving as coordinator.
Founded in 1913 as a service organization, the Groton Woman's Club has provided helping hands to whomever needs them, ranging from the bandage-making and other relief work during World War I to making meals for seniors. The club, comprised of more than 80 active members living in Groton, is also known for its annual holiday green sale to raise funds for scholarships for local students.
The Crystal Angel Award was given to recognize the quilters for having made and sent 100 quilts by June 2009 and 200 by May 2011, Slade said. So far, the quilters have made 217 blankets with 12 more ready to be shipped. One was donated to the Devens Museum.
The quilters said they never expected to receive an award. Besides, "I never thought we would still need to make them," Dillon said.
Mildred Wells, a quilter of 25 years who used to make bridal gowns and did other sewing work for people, has a 20-year-old grandson who recently joined the Army. While he is not deployed, another grandson of hers fought in Iraq before, and Wells knows too well how families feel about their soldiers. "It's such a pleasure to do."
The quilters said they are thrilled to receive the award.
"It's nice to know it's going somewhere there is a need," McCaffrey said.

When you remember me, it means that you have carried something of who I am with you, that I have left some mark of who I am on who you are.
You can summon me back to your mind even though countless years and miles may stand between us.
It means... that if we meet again, you will know me.
It means that even after I die, you can still see my face and hear my voice and speak to me in your heart.
-- Frederick Buechner
The war in Iraq is over for the United States, but not for the Americans who fought there. CBS Evening News anchor Scott Pelley reports on a remarkable therapy [Operation Proper Exit] that takes some of the more than 32,000 troops wounded in Iraq back there to confront the events that changed their lives.
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Of the eight, returning may have been toughest for Steven Cornford. He left Iraq and was awarded the Silver Star for valor. But they don't give away Silver Stars for nothing. Sitting down with Cornford, you can learn what post-traumatic stress disorder is all about.
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Cornford's nightmares are rooted in Easter Sunday 2007, when he was just 18 years old. His platoon assaulted an enemy machine gun nest. He was hit in the left shoulder. His lieutenant, Phillip Neel, sprinted forward to help, but was cut down.
Cornford returned fire and threw two hand grenades into the machine gun nest. Then, he carriet Lt. Neel a mile to a Medevac helicopter that took them both to a field hospital. Neel didn't make it, and Cornford cannot forgive himself.
They are the angels of the Iraq and Afghanistan wars — the nurses and doctors who save the wounded, evacuating them aboard a cavernous C-17 transport plane headed for Germany, capable of conducting mid-flight surgery if need be.
“You do not have time to cry, you do not have time to feel. You basically put those feelings in a box and you put them over on the counter,” says Air Force Lt. Col. Sherry Hemby, a 19-year veteran who went to nursing school and then joined up.
At the behemoth Bagram military base in Afghanistan, medical transport planes — essentially flying trauma centers — slam fast on the runway, always after dark, trying to avoid enemy attack.
On a recent fall night, the huge hold of an Air Force C-17 was filled with stretchers stacked three-high. There was just enough room for doctors and nurses to squeeze between life-support equipment and severely injured patients bound for Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in Germany.
For 10 years, aeromedical evacuation crews like this one have been ferrying war casualties out of Iraq and Afghanistan.
Lt. Col. Trisha Fulton, chief flight nurse, has made hundreds of these trips. She was waiting for her latest group of patients.
Some walk on crutches. Others are carried on stretchers.
The most critically injured are sedated and cocooned in life-support equipment. They are brought aboard last, accompanied by a critical care transport team consisting of a doctor, a nurse and a cardiopulmonary technician.
By the time the severely injured, some of them amputees, get here, they have been stabilized at Bagram’s field hospital and prepped for flight.
At Landstuhl, the receiving point for tens of thousands of wounded soldiers and Marines, surgery or rehabilitation awaits.
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People who have been thrust into each other’s lives by the consequences of war began a wordless eight-hour relationship of necessity.