Capt Louis Alexander Mazure

Capt Louis Alexander Mazure

Pittsfield, Berkshire County, Massachusetts, USA
Death 5 Jun 1944 (aged 28)
At Sea
Burial Neuville-en-Condroz, Arrondissement de Liège, Liège, Belgium
Plot Tablets of the Missing
Memorial ID 56359659 · View Source
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THE GARY POST-TRIBUNE: Friday, July 21, 1944
Capt. Louis Mazure Dies at Controls of B-24 in Epic Story of Heroism
Gary Flier Hit by Flak Over French Target, Co-Pilot “Pushes” Crippled Plane to Coast
Capt. Louis A. Mazure, Froebel high school and Gary college graduate and 28-year-old son of Mrs. Helen Mazure, 110 East 43rd, had been identified today as the pilot of a Liberator bomber who alone among the ship’s complement lost has life June 2 when the plane was riddled with flak and shorn of all its power as it prepared to drop its bombs over a pre-invasion target on the French coast.
The crippled ship was glided all the way back to the English coast by Mazure’s 26-year-old co-pilot, Lieut. Earl L. Carper of 7108 Ingleside, Chicago, under direction of a colonel command pilot whose left foot had been blown off by a shell burst over the target.
Out of deference to the Gary captain’s kin, who had not yet been notified of his death, his name was notified of his death, his name was omitted from an official account of the almost incredible incident released at an 8th air force Liberator station in England a few days after the tragedy.
Family Given Clew
Publication of a fragment of the graphic story in a Chicago newspaper, which named Carper as the co-pilot, gave the Mazure family the clew which led to identification of the Gary captain as the skipper of the ill-fated craft who died at the controls just as his bombardier, Lieut. Milton Segal of Brooklyn, took over the ship for the final run over the target.
In one of his letters home, written in late May, Mazure, who normally piloted Flying Fortress bombers, disclosed he had recently been flying “different types” of four-engine craft, and listed Carper and Segal among the members of his newest crew.
The captain’s brother, Anthony, who lives at 28 Ruth street, Hammond, interviewed the co-pilot’s mother, Mrs. Howard E. Carper, in Chicago, and thereafter said he was convinced that Captain Louis, who had written May 23 that he expected to be back in Gary “soon,” was the pilot of the “Lib” that made history by its motorless escape flight across the English channel.
Held Private License
A former employee of the Gary works electrical maintenance department, Mazure was one of the first CPT graduates turned out by Gary college and the Calumet air service, and had held a private pilot’s license for about two years up to the time of his induction as any army aviation cadet in August 1941.
He won his wings March 18th, 1942, at Mather Field, Calif., and before embarking for overseas served as a gunnery instructor on multi-engine bombers at Las Vegas, NM. He was promoted to first lieutenant April 17th last year, and to a captaincy early this spring.
He received the air medal and presidential citation for his participation in the first U.S. bomber raid upon the Ploesti oil fields in Romania, and is believed to have logged more than 25 combat missions up to the time he last wrote his mother, May 23.
Ranked as First Chief
He was a squadron operations officer during the early part of his service in England, and was ranked as a flight commander at the time of his death.
A copy of the official version of Captain Mazure’s last flight and of the epic trans-channel escape of the Liberator and its crew after the pilot died from a flak wound in the temple, was obtained by the pilot’s brother from Mrs. Carper.
It disclosed that the crippled bomber finally was “ditched” in the channel just off the English coast channel by the wounded command pilot after everyone had bailed out over English soil at his orders.
Five of the crew were wounded, but Mazure was the only fatality. The other six men were shaken and bruised, but otherwise uninjured.
“As the Liberator started on its bomb run over coastal France,” said the unidentified author of the official account, “it was subjected to a continuous hail of heavy flak and suffered repeated hits.”
“’I don’t know at what point each engine got it,’ related Lieutenant Carper, ‘because burts were getting us right along.’
“Good Boy,” His Last Words
“The bombarder, Lieutenant Segal, was not wearing his flak helmet when the first burst hit the nose of the ship. He left his bombsight for a second to get it, then returned to his position. As he bent over his sight a second burst caught the nose, knocking Segal’s helmet from his head. This time he did not attempt to retrieve it. Over the interphone he informed the pilot (Mazure) that he was ready to take control for the final run. “I’ve got the ship,” he said. “Good boy” replied the pilot. Those were his last words, for a piece of flak struck him in the temple and killed him instantly.
“With the pilot dead, the Liberator continued over the target and the bombs were released.
“Meanwhile the entire ship was in an uproar. At approximately the same time the pilot was killed, the command pilot (still unidentified officially) received a hit which blew off his left foot above the ankle. Lieut B. W. Bail of Philadelphia ripped off his heavy gloves when he saw that the foot had been blown off. From the first aid kit he removed bandages, a tourniquet and sulpha.
“Quickly applying the tourniquet to the colonel’s knee, he sprinkled sulpha over the wound and bandaged the bleeding stump. Medical men afterwards credited this action with saving the wounded officer’s life.
4 Others Wounded
“Amid all this confusion, four other crew members had been wounded, the nose of the plane shattered and gasoline was flowing about in streams causing an extreme fire hazard.
“Carper had little chance to see what else was going on in the ship. He took over as the pilot slumped over the controls and when he heard ‘Bombs away!” swung the nose of the ship toward England. At this point the command pilot, who had managed to pull himself to his feet, braced himself between the pilots’ seats and leaned over and pulled the throttles, then pushed them back.
“’No power,’ he told Carper. ‘ Cut all the switches.’
“This Carper did, and they began the long glide back to the British coast.
Dropped 5,000 Feet
“ ‘We dropped 5,000 feet in what seemed a second,’ related Carper. ‘A B-24 isn’t much of a glider, but we got back over England. The colonel (command pilot) was the bravest guy I ever saw. When we got over land, he told all the crew to bail out and then wanted me to try to ditch it.’
“Carper, who had watched the ship lose more and more altitude, wanted the command pilot to bail out but he refused and, instead, ordered Carper to ‘hit the silk’.
“The co-pilot jumped over land, but as they had turned the nose again after the rest of the crew had bailed out, he landed in the channel. The command pilot sat on the edge of the seat and pulled back on the controls, which was all he could do to ‘ditch’ the big shop. The Liberator landed on the water and he was thrown clear.
“in an example of physical stamina that defies explanation, the injured man swam three miles, spending 45 minutes in the icy water, before he was picked up by a rescue boat.
“Meanwhile the other crew members who had bailed out were having plenty of trouble. Carper became entangled in the shroud lines of his chute and had to struggle desperately to keep afloat. It was due only to the alertness of a Spit-fire pilot who saw the Liberator as it turned back to sea and kept circling it until it crashed that a rescue ship sped out and picked him up in 25 minutes.
“Segal, the bombardier, had jumped over land, but when he pulled the ripcord nothing happened. Frantically he ripped open the canvas and pulled the silk out by hand, the chute finally blossoming above him.
“Another crew member landed in a minefield and the fact that he broke a leg in the fall and could not move probably saved his life, since a rescue party discovered that he lay within a yard of an antipersonnel mine that would have exploded had he touched it.
“The remainder of the crew made their jumps without incident, although Lieut. Nathaniel Glickman, New York City, wounded in the forehead and arm by flak fragments, complained bitterly because the wind carried him half a mile away from a WAAF camp that he had expected to land in.”
Captain Mazure’s body was not recovered, the crippled Liberator carrying it to the bottom of the channel as it sank after the crash landing.
Other injured crew members were Staff Sergts. Harry E. Secrist, Newark, O., David E. Evans, Jr., Massilon, O., and Wiley A. Sallis, Smithville, Miss.
Pilot Captain Louis A. Mazure MIA/KIA
Hometown: Gary, Indiana
Squadron: 66th 44th Bomb Group
Service# 0-442977
Awards: Air Medal, Purple Heart

Target: Boulogne-Sur-Mer (Pas de Calais), France
Mission Date: 5-JUN-44
Serial Number: #41-28690
Aircraft Model B-24
Aircraft Letter: B+,
Aircraft Name: MISSOURI SUE
Cause: Malfuntion/flak

Only six PFF aircraft of the 66th Squadron participated in this mission, providing leads for the 95th Combat Bomb Wing. One of these 66th Squadron aircraft was lost, ditching just off the coast of southern England after most of the crew had parachuted on or near the coast at Broadstairs, Kent. This is the mission on which Colonel Leon Vance earned his Medal of Honor. Because this mission involves a PFF crew, it helps to have some background information on issues in regard to bombing through overcast.

In his book, Mighty Eighth War Manual, Roger A. Freeman wrote these words in regard to overcast bombing: “The predominance of cloud in the northwestern European sky was a major obstacle to visual bombing and the principal limiting factor in Eighth Bomber Command operations, grounding bombers on an average of four days out of five. During the winter of 1942-1943 it became obvious to even the most ardent promoter of visual attack that other means had to be sought to pursue the campaign during inclement weather. Radars (high-powered radio pulses, reflected or regenerated, for locating objects or determining one’s own position) developed by the British for night operations eventually led to an 8th Air Force Pathfinder Force and, subsequently, to a bombing-through overcast capability. Radar-guided bombing received a number of descriptive terms in the 8th Air Force, namely Blind Bombing, Bombing through
Overcast (BTO), etc., but the most persistent term was PFF, derived from Pathfinder Force.” This new equipment demanded considerable changes in the B-17 and B-24 aircraft themselves, as well as special training of the navigators. One squadron, the 66th, became the Pathfinder squadron in the 44th Bomb Group, and then the better and more experienced crews were moved into the 66th Squadron. In the early stages of development of the Pathfinder era, these specially equipment bombers and crews were established in the three oldest B-24 groups, the 44th, the 93rd, and the 389th. On missions planned under inclement weather conditions, each of these three groups Pathfinder aircraft and crews were delegated to lead the other newer groups, to fly the lead and deputy lead for their formations as well as for their own groups. Normally, a high-ranking officer from these other groups would fly in these lead PFF aircraft as Command Pilot and Deputy Command Pilot to be in charge of his own group’s activities and to make changes in the mission planning if he deemed it necessary. It was just this situation that was involved in this next incident.
Captain Mazure was piloting this aircraft, flying lead for the 489th BG and the 2nd Division. The primary target was reported to be coastal installations at Boulogne-sur-Mer but actually was a V-1 Site, Wimereaux, North Boulogne. Briefing was scheduled for 0400, even though Colonel Vance evidently had been held up and was late. So the briefing continued with the nformation that the bombing would be from 22,500 feet and the bomb load would be 10 500 pound GPs. Stepping away from the map, the officer addressed the bombardiers and stressed the point that should they for any reason fail to drop the bombs on the first run, they were to jettison the load over the English Channel and return to their bases. No second run was to be made over the target. The meteorologist added that there would be broken clouds over the coast and should be clear sailing in and out. Intelligence reported that we could anticipate flak at the French coast and that no enemy fighters were expected so there would be no fighter escort. Col. Vance arrived at 0830, apologized for his delay, and asked Capt. Mazure to review the information we had received at the briefing. When he had finished with the flight plan, Lt. Glickman informed him of the instructions regarding the bomb run and the specific order not to make a second run over the target. Takeoff was at 0900; the mission was rather routine as Lt. Bail, radar-navigator, guided the formation via his radar “Mickey” toward the Pas de Calais sector of French Coast. As they approached the IP, control of the aircraft was turned over to Lt. Segal, bombardier, for the bomb run. Lt. Glickman called out the target and then watched for signs of flak and enemy fighters. There appeared to be flak off to the starboard side but it was of little consequence. As the target was approached, Lt. Segal ordered the bomb bay doors to be opened, steadied down and then called out “Bombs Away.” Nothing happened! Every bomb was still hanging in the bays. The other aircraft in the formation awaiting our drop, failed to release theirs, too. Either there had been a malfunction in the bombsight, or the arming release switch on the bombardier’s panel had not been activated. So nothing happened due, apparently, to some faulty equipment, and no bombs were dropped by any of the aircraft in our formation. Lt. Glickman added that “We turned off the target and at that time I notified our pilot, Mazure, that we were to head back over the Channel and jettison our bombs according to the briefing instructions. But Col. Vance countermanded my orders and directed that we make a second run, informing us that he was in command of this flight.” Departing the immediate area, they flew south, circled and flew parallel to the coastline, at the same altitude and airspeed, but as the enemy gunners had zeroed in on them, the first flak burst exploded off their port wing. The pilot, Mazure, was killed when shrapnel sliced in under his helmet, and struck him in the head. Lt. Carper, the co-pilot, immediately took over the controls. When the next blast hit, it tore through the flight deck, hit Col. Vance (who was standing between the dead pilot and Lt. Carper) and nearly severed his right foot so that it was hanging by a shred.

Lt. Bail gave this report, “Our bomb bay doors were still open and I could see that a couple of bombs were still hung up. About this same time, the co-pilot Carper, cut off all four engines and switches, fearing that the plane would catch fire and blow up. He quickly turned our ship for England in a shallow glide. I then began calling the various members of the crew on interphone and was relieved to learn that no others were badly injured. “As soon as possible, I managed to get Colonel Vance down to my seat, took off my belt and wound it around his thigh as a makeshift tourniquet to reduce the spurting blood.”

Lt. Glickman continued, “At this same instant my nose turret took a series of bursts that shattered the Plexiglas and cut open my forehead, as well as hitting the base of my spine. Our plane continued to be hit as we stayed on the bomb run. My primary concern was the possibility of our bomb bays being hit before the bombs were released. “The starboard outer engine (#1) had been hit and the propeller was now snapped with the three blades drooping downwards. The top turret had most of the Plexiglas blown off, part of the right rudder and rudder elevator also had been hit. Concerned about the previous inability to release our bombs and now approaching the prior drop point again, I called out that I would drop the bombs using my turret release switch that would bypass the bombardier’s panel. The other bombers following us in our formation unloaded at the same time that I did. “After I released our bombs, my turret took another hit which not only cut my left hand but blasted off another large portion of the turret Plexiglas. Looking at my pilotage map I advised Carper of our position and gave him the return heading to England. The celestial navigator had his equipment, his desk table and charts destroyed and with Bail aiding Vance, I had maps with which to aid the pilot. “We continued to get hit; the radio room took flak which severely wounded Sgt. Skufca.” On the flight deck and behind the two pilots and Col. Vance were the two stations for the PFF navigators: Lts. Bail and Kilgore.

John Kilgore added these comments, “As we left the south coast of England, the Germans began to jam my ‘G’set, as usual, so I looked over at Bail to see if his “Mickey” was operating, but he shrugged his shoulders, ‘No.’ This had been the same conditions as from the other two previous missions. We turned at our I.P. (Initial Point) and headed north, and as we approached the target, Glickman said he could see our target through the broken clouds. I assumed that Segal was on the target with his sight. “At ‘Bombs Away,’ nothing happened! Vance did order a second run on the target. Why we didn’t take some sort of evasive action or change in altitude is still a mystery to me. The second run was uneventful until the bombs were released. Even then, I don’t recall hearing the crump of ack-ack. But I do recall, and very vividly, the left side of the plane ressing inwardly against my right arm. The flak jackets jumped off the flight deck floor, my instrument panel going dead, the sight glasses of the fuel transfer system disintegrating, and raw high-octane gasoline streaming onto the flight deck. Hoppie, our engineer, literally ‘slithered’ out of the top turret, grabbing what I thought was a flight jacket and trying to stem the flow of gasoline with one hand, turning off the fuel transfer valves with the other. “About this time Glickman came over the intercom announcing that he had been hit in the head and blood was streaming down over his face so that he could not see. One of the waist gunners, Secrist, came over the intercom that Skufca had been hit badly in the legs. As he was calling no one in particular, I answered by telling him of our situation on the flight deck, and asked him and Evans to see about Sallis, our tail gunner, and to assist Skufca out of the plane when the time came.” “Apparently we had experienced two to three hits or misses – there was no direct hit, for if there were, none of us would be here. The plane seemed to be ‘sailing’ along on an even keel. At no time were there any sudden diving, stalling or yawing motions. I turned to Bail and told him to turn on the I.F.F. (Identification, Friend or Foe) switch was directly above his head, and had a red safety cover over it. As we had left the formation, and we were approaching the English Coast, we must be identified. “I got up from my seat and looked into the cockpit area, found Mazure slumped in his harness and his instrument panel was covered in blood. Carper was in the co-pilot position, doing what all good co-pilots do, trying to keep the plane flying. I then jumped down into the ‘well’ of the flight deck along side of Hoppie – not that I could assist him in any way, but to be first in line. Hoppie didn’t need any help as he was a true professional and knew his job well. “As we were standing there looking down at the water, the doors began to close. Hoppie grabbed the manual crank to open them again, and I reconnected my intercom, yelled for someone not to close them again. Apparently the message got through as the doors were never closed again.

” Glickman added, “As we headed towards England, the plane took one last blast that cut the gas lines and forced Carper to cut all the switches to prevent any fire and stopped all three remaining engines as well as the power to my nose turret. With that action and starting the no-power glide towards England, I heard the bailout bell and someone calling us to bail out.” S/Sgt. Harry Secrist, left waist gunner, added his recollections of what took place in the rear of the aircraft: “Skuf was hit while still in his radio room and fell out of it into the waist area ahead of us. He was badly injured and could not stand. Gasoline was spraying all over us in the waist and Skuf was lying on the waist floor in all of that gasoline. So I grabbed a spare parachute and put it under his head. As I stood up, another large burst of flak came through the side of the waist and passed between Skuf and me. It made a hole in the right side about ten inches wide, then made several holes on the left side where it went out. “All of the tail assembly was intact, but the left rudder and vertical stabilizer had a lot of holes in them. Dave opened the hatch door in the floor and was sweeping some of the gasoline out with his foot. “When we got near the coast of England, I threw the left waist gun out of the window and turned to get Wiley and Dave to help me lift Skuf to the waist window where he could bail out. But when I turned back from the window, Wiley had Skuf and was going into the bomb bay where they eventually bailed out. Dave went out the right window and I went out the left. I fell about a half mile, it seemed, to get rid of the gasoline on me. We were all soaked with it and wondered about the static electricity when the chutes opened. I think I was the only one of us who bailed out of the rear area to land in a minefield. “After I opened my chute, I was about a thousand feet above a large cloud and when I came out of the cloud, there was a barrage balloon under it. I missed it by about 100 feet. Then, when I got below the balloon, I was drifting toward the cable, but missed it, too, by about 50 feet. As I got closer to the ground, I saw men running along a dirt road toward me, then came down about 60 to 70 feet from the edge of the cliff next to the Channel, and just a few feet from a fence that ran parallel to the cliff. My parachute fell across this fence and some barbed wire between the fence and the edge of this cliff. This barbed wire was about eight feet high. After releasing my parachute harness and standing up, I started to walk down to the road. I had taken only a few steps when I understood what the British Sergeant was yelling to me. He was shouting for me to stand still as there were land mines everywhere. Help was on the way with maps to guide me through this field! After spending a most interesting overnight at this remote cannon emplacement unit, Harry Secrist was driven to the huge British airbase at Manston where he was united with Sgts. Evans and Sallis. None of them were injured in their parachuting. Lt. Bail continued his recollections. “As our plane neared the English coast, still gliding without power and rapidly descending, I directed the crew to start bailing out. When only Colonel Vance and I remained, I told Col. Vance that we must now jump as there was no way to land that damaged plane, especially with those bombs hung up in the bay, armed and ready to explode on impact. Not being a doctor then, I was not fully aware that the Colonel was in shock. When the Colonel shook his head and said he wouldn’t jump, I knew that there was no way I could drag him to the bomb bay, and assist him out. I knew, too, that the plane was losing altitude fast, and we didn’t have much time. I checked his tourniquet, shook his hand and made my plunge through the open bay. “We bailed out between Ramsgate and Dover in Kent, most of the earlier ones out landing near the water, but on land. I, being the last to parachute, came down a bit further inland, but not too far away from them. Lt. Kilgore broke one leg in two places when he hit the ground. Lt. Glickman continued, “I was the last man to bail out inasmuch as I was trapped in the nose turret after it had been shattered by flak and the power to turn it in position for me to fall backward had been cut off. I was forced to break my way out although I was wounded and hit in several places. The Air Force Telex indicated that I was blinded by blood and was led to the bomb bay simply was not true. “When the bailout bell rang, you can imagine the mass exodus! But now I crawled to the nose wheel area, snapped on my chest chute, and because my legs were useless, crawled through the tunnel under the flight deck to the bomb bay catwalk. The only men I saw on board at that time on the flight deck were Col. Vance and the dead pilot, Captain Mazure. In fact, I had to push the bombardier, Milton Segal off the catwalk before I rolled off the catwalk myself. “I withheld opening of my chute for a time until I was sure no other aircraft was in the vicinity, and also I was very close to the Channel, with the breeze bringing me back over land. I was lucky in that I landed on the lawn of the Royal Marine Hospital at Deal, on the cliffs of Dover.”
Lt. Bail continued, "When I visited Col. Vance in the hospital, he told me that he had worked himself forward, crawled into the co-pilot’s seat, and turned the aircraft away from that populated area and back out to sea. Captain Mazure’s body was still in the pilot’s seat so he was forced to get into the co-pilot’s position. When the ship hit water, the bombs exploded and destroyed the aircraft, somehow not killing the Colonel. Finding himself still alive and conscious, the Colonel began swimming toward the shore, injured leg and all, until rescued by a “Later at the hospital, the Colonel told me that he was eager to get back into combat, and would as soon as he recovered. Most unfortunately, the Colonel was killed when he was being returned to the States and his airplane was lost at sea. After the war, I was invited to attend the ceremonies when the Colonel’s widow was presented with his Medal of Honor.” On the 19th of March, 1945, Lt. Bail, with another crew, was shot down over Germany and became a POW.
Lt. Nathaniel Glickman added, “A number of years ago I attended a reunion of our Second Division at the Air Force Academy. There, I met a co-pilot of one of the Wing crews on our flight who related the following story, which added a new bit of drama to the end of this flight. He had witnessed the damage to our plane and had counted the number of our crew that had bailed out. Our plane was still airborne and headed inland, but as you know, was losing altitude. Someone had contacted the authorities, which, in turn, were concerned that the plane might crash into a built up area and allegedly, gave orders to them to shoot it down. Just as they turned to follow those instructions, our plane began its very slow turn to the left back towards the Channel where both Segal and I bailed out. The order, of course, was canceled, when it was noted that the plane was still under control and attempting to turn. You can imagine my feelings when I heard this story!” “I, too, visited Col. Vance at his hospital as soon as I was able to get around with a cane. He informed me that he had submitted my name for the Silver Star which I was informed a month later had been approved. However, the medal was not given to me until this past May (1986) at a formal dress parade at Vandenberg Air Force Base in California. “I returned to combat within a month. I had a sergeant carry the bombsight to the ship and I limped along with a cane during my first few flights. Later, I was listed as Pilotage Navigator/Bombardier and 66th Squadron’s Lead Bombardier, and completed 19 more missions.” Only Lts. Bail and Glickman and the two waist gunners flew additional operational missions! T/Sgt. Skufca was sent to Station 93 Hospital near Oxford for treatment of his shattered ankle and leg wounds. Skin grafts were necessary, so he remained there for several months. Eventually he was moved to Station #318 near Norwich while his severed Achilles tendon healed. On December 18, 1944, he was evacuated to the U.S. for further grafts and treatment. He never walked normally again. This mission was the subject of a lengthy article called “Sometimes I Can’t Believe It” in True magazine. The author was Carl B. Wall. Wall describes MISSOURI SUE as “a plain, businesslike fancy lettering on its pictures of pretty girls.” Wall also tells a story about Vance’s recovery after losing his foot: “During one of the depressed stages, he was crutching along a London street when an eight-year-old boy yelled at him: ‘You’ll never miss it, Yank!’ The kid’s mother came up to me and apologized, says Vance. Then she explained that he
had lost his own foot in the blitz and was getting along fine with an artificial one. That was the biggest boost I got. Felt a devil of a lot better after that.”

Captain Louis A. Mazure Pilot MIA/KIA
Lt/Col. Leon R. Vance Jr. Command Pilot WIA, ditched
2nd/Lt. Earl Carper Co Pilot Parachuted
2nd/Lt. John R. Kilgore Navigator Parachuted injured
2nd/Lt. Milton Segal Bombardier Parachuted
2nd/Lt. Nathaniel Glickman Bombardier WIA, parachuted
2nd/Lt. Bernard W. Bail Navig/Radar parachuted
T/Sgt. Earl L. Hoppie Engineer Parachuted injured
T/Sgt. Quintin F. Skufca Radio/Op. WIA, parachuted, injured
S/Sgt. Davis J Evans Jr. Gunner Parachuted
S/Sgt. Harry E. Secrist Gunner Parachuted
S/Sgt. Wiley A. Sallis Gunner Parachuted

Family Members




Gravesite Details Entered the service from Indiana.



  • Maintained by: John Dowdy
  • Originally Created by: War Graves
  • Added: 7 Aug 2010
  • Find a Grave Memorial 56359659
  • Find a Grave, database and images ( : accessed ), memorial page for Capt Louis Alexander Mazure (19 Mar 1916–5 Jun 1944), Find a Grave Memorial no. 56359659, citing Ardennes American Cemetery and Memorial, Neuville-en-Condroz, Arrondissement de Liège, Liège, Belgium ; Maintained by John Dowdy (contributor 47791572) .