Where is Kenneth L. Plumadore?

Kenneth L. Plumadore
Lance Corporal Kenneth L. Plumadore - Born January 28, 1949

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Kenneth L. Plumadore is the adopted POW/MIA for the FSB Hill 4-11 website.  Kenneth was with the Marines in Vietnam and had been missing in action (MIA) since September 21, 1967.

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Kenneth's remains were finally returned home for burial in 2004. Please read the following obituary:

Kenneth L. Plumadore's Obituary

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The following are remembrances of him written by his sister Pat Plumadore.  These remembrances were originally published in the October, 1989 and February, 1990 Hill 4-11 Association newsletters:

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Remembering an MIA Brother

by Pat Plumadore

Thursday will be my brother's 38th birthday.  The last time I saw Kenny he was only 18, strong, handsome and proud to be a United States Marine.

I think of him often and pray for him each day.  You see, my brother, Kenny, is still MIA.

Memories do not fade even after all these years.  Sometimes with laughter and sometimes with tears.

I remember a little boy with long dark eyelashes and a big grin playing in the snow.  Why did he go?

I remember Mom saying, "Take Kenny with you," and thinking boy what a pest.  Is he at rest?

I remember him growing so tall, and when the girls started to call, how we fought over who would use the phone.  Will he come home?

I remember watching him board the airplane, feeling so proud of my brother, a marine, and trying hard not to cry.  I never said good bye.

I remember a phone call, a telegram and a mother's heart breaking.  They said he was gone. It's been so awfully long.

I remember years of uncertainty, waiting and prayer the pain of not knowing.  Is he still there?

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Twenty years..........still wondering

by Pat Plumadore

Twenty years.  Oh God, Kenny, how we missed you, Mom and I.  Mom's gone now, so I no longer see that tear in her eye.  It was there every day since they told here that her son was lost in a war that couldn't be won.

Twenty years.  Maybe now only she knows your fate.  Were you killed by those gun shots or left there to wait for some enemy soldiers to put you in chains?

The telegram read, "There are no remains."

Twenty years.  Dear brother, I pray for you and cry.  Are you being held captive, or did you die?  Whatever the answer, we are not alone.  There are others like me still waiting at home.  And others like you - husbands, brothers and sons - that we left over there.  Are they crying and asking, "Does any one care?"

Twenty years, not knowing whether to hope or to grieve.

Twenty years of not knowing what to believe.  Are you a prisoner still struggling to survive?  Are you hurt?  Are you lonely?  Are you dead or alive?

Twenty years and now I have a friend.  Her son is missing.  Have you seen him, Ken?  And I know a sister who waits as I do.  All of our brothers - are they with you?

Twenty years of waiting for the wounds of war to mend.  Are you asking like me, "Dear God, when will it end?"


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