Lt. Koller C. Brandon, son of Mr. and Mrs. Herman Brandon, who has been missing in action for two years, has been officially declared dead as of Feb. 19, by the Navy department according to a telegram received from Lt. Gen. Vandergrift, commandant of the Marine corps. Lt. Brandon has been carried on the Navy department records as missing in action since October 14, 1942. He became a fighter pilot in the Marine corps Feb. 19, 1942, and at the time of his disappearance, he was in action in his fighter plane somewhere in the Pacific ocean. A companion in another plane with whom he was traveling, returned to his base without having missed Lt. Brandon until it was too late to give him assistance. The incident attracted much attention, especially after Lt. Brandon's companion disappeared under similar circumstances not long afterward, and the account of the incident was written up in a national-circulation magazine. Mr. and Mrs. Brandon cling to the hope that their son will, sooner or later, show up.
(news article from the Deer River News, Deer River, MN dated 15 March 1945)
Casey was an Irish-Norwegian farm boy, rugged, gifted, argumentative, and persistent. By the time he was sixteen he had breezed through high school at Grand Rapids, Minnesota. After junior college he went to the University of Minnesota, picking up medals along the way and graduating with high honors. He was smart — at Corpus Christi he got a 4.0 grade on the first third of his navigation work, leading the whole class….Casey was a Boy Scout and, like many farm youngsters, belonged to the 4-H Club. When his dad was ill with rheumatism, he ran the farm, passionately trying to make his field of potatoes the best in the United States, and every calf, pig or chicken on the farm a county fair champion. Other boys liked to be with him, because he knew how to do things. Every week end he brought home friends who learned such diverse arts as the proper way to shovel manure or solve trigonometry problems.Illness at home delayed his education, but Casey was graduated cum laude from Minnesota in March, 1941. He went right into naval aviation and that's where he met Danny [Cecil J. Doyle], who was almost two years younger…. Both boys were original members of the eight-man flight that became known as the Flying Circus. When everyone was given a nickname for radio communication in the air, Casey was tagged "Fool" and Danny "Ish"— the Foolish Twins. They reveled in the name. In camp they were inseparable, and they always flew together. "I have to go along and look after Casey," Danny always said, ignoring the fact that Casey was more than able to take care of himself.On the night of October 13, at the height of the worst shelling the island ever got, Danny, Casey, Furlow, and Haberman were crowded in a foxhole. After two and a half hours of it, a near-by oil dump was shooting flames two hundred feet high, ammunition dumps were going off, planes were blazing around the field, and flares were hanging in the sky like an evening at the planetarium.One day Danny's plane needed repairs and he couldn't go up. It was the first time he hadn't flown with Casey. That night we waited uncomfortably for a plane that hadn't come back. It was Casey's. I don't like to think of the expression on Danny's face. He quit his wisecracking abruptly and became grim and quiet. By that time he had official credit for five planes shot down. "Those goonies are going to pay if it's the last thing I do," he said bitterly. "I'm going to double my score for Casey."One day Danny himself turned up missing. A flight mate told of seeing a Grumman chasing a Zero right into the sea. That was three weeks after Casey went down. Danny, who had sworn to avenge his friends death, must have been overtrying that day. We missed those two boys. Thinking later of their short and tragic history, the high promise and the glory of their youth, we fought more savagely against the enemy.
Captain Joe Foss, VMF-121, in Joe Foss, Flying Marine: The Story Of His Flying Circus As Told To Walter Simmons, 1943
(news article from the Deer River News, Deer River, MN dated 15 March 1945)
Casey was an Irish-Norwegian farm boy, rugged, gifted, argumentative, and persistent. By the time he was sixteen he had breezed through high school at Grand Rapids, Minnesota. After junior college he went to the University of Minnesota, picking up medals along the way and graduating with high honors. He was smart — at Corpus Christi he got a 4.0 grade on the first third of his navigation work, leading the whole class….Casey was a Boy Scout and, like many farm youngsters, belonged to the 4-H Club. When his dad was ill with rheumatism, he ran the farm, passionately trying to make his field of potatoes the best in the United States, and every calf, pig or chicken on the farm a county fair champion. Other boys liked to be with him, because he knew how to do things. Every week end he brought home friends who learned such diverse arts as the proper way to shovel manure or solve trigonometry problems.Illness at home delayed his education, but Casey was graduated cum laude from Minnesota in March, 1941. He went right into naval aviation and that's where he met Danny [Cecil J. Doyle], who was almost two years younger…. Both boys were original members of the eight-man flight that became known as the Flying Circus. When everyone was given a nickname for radio communication in the air, Casey was tagged "Fool" and Danny "Ish"— the Foolish Twins. They reveled in the name. In camp they were inseparable, and they always flew together. "I have to go along and look after Casey," Danny always said, ignoring the fact that Casey was more than able to take care of himself.On the night of October 13, at the height of the worst shelling the island ever got, Danny, Casey, Furlow, and Haberman were crowded in a foxhole. After two and a half hours of it, a near-by oil dump was shooting flames two hundred feet high, ammunition dumps were going off, planes were blazing around the field, and flares were hanging in the sky like an evening at the planetarium.One day Danny's plane needed repairs and he couldn't go up. It was the first time he hadn't flown with Casey. That night we waited uncomfortably for a plane that hadn't come back. It was Casey's. I don't like to think of the expression on Danny's face. He quit his wisecracking abruptly and became grim and quiet. By that time he had official credit for five planes shot down. "Those goonies are going to pay if it's the last thing I do," he said bitterly. "I'm going to double my score for Casey."One day Danny himself turned up missing. A flight mate told of seeing a Grumman chasing a Zero right into the sea. That was three weeks after Casey went down. Danny, who had sworn to avenge his friends death, must have been overtrying that day. We missed those two boys. Thinking later of their short and tragic history, the high promise and the glory of their youth, we fought more savagely against the enemy.
Captain Joe Foss, VMF-121, in Joe Foss, Flying Marine: The Story Of His Flying Circus As Told To Walter Simmons, 1943
Lt. Koller C. Brandon, son of Mr. and Mrs. Herman Brandon, who has been missing in action for two years, has been officially declared dead as of Feb. 19, by the Navy department according to a telegram received from Lt. Gen. Vandergrift, commandant of the Marine corps. Lt. Brandon has been carried on the Navy department records as missing in action since October 14, 1942. He became a fighter pilot in the Marine corps Feb. 19, 1942, and at the time of his disappearance, he was in action in his fighter plane somewhere in the Pacific ocean. A companion in another plane with whom he was traveling, returned to his base without having missed Lt. Brandon until it was too late to give him assistance. The incident attracted much attention, especially after Lt. Brandon's companion disappeared under similar circumstances not long afterward, and the account of the incident was written up in a national-circulation magazine. Mr. and Mrs. Brandon cling to the hope that their son will, sooner or later, show up.
(news article from the Deer River News, Deer River, MN dated 15 March 1945)
Casey was an Irish-Norwegian farm boy, rugged, gifted, argumentative, and persistent. By the time he was sixteen he had breezed through high school at Grand Rapids, Minnesota. After junior college he went to the University of Minnesota, picking up medals along the way and graduating with high honors. He was smart — at Corpus Christi he got a 4.0 grade on the first third of his navigation work, leading the whole class….Casey was a Boy Scout and, like many farm youngsters, belonged to the 4-H Club. When his dad was ill with rheumatism, he ran the farm, passionately trying to make his field of potatoes the best in the United States, and every calf, pig or chicken on the farm a county fair champion. Other boys liked to be with him, because he knew how to do things. Every week end he brought home friends who learned such diverse arts as the proper way to shovel manure or solve trigonometry problems.Illness at home delayed his education, but Casey was graduated cum laude from Minnesota in March, 1941. He went right into naval aviation and that's where he met Danny [Cecil J. Doyle], who was almost two years younger…. Both boys were original members of the eight-man flight that became known as the Flying Circus. When everyone was given a nickname for radio communication in the air, Casey was tagged "Fool" and Danny "Ish"— the Foolish Twins. They reveled in the name. In camp they were inseparable, and they always flew together. "I have to go along and look after Casey," Danny always said, ignoring the fact that Casey was more than able to take care of himself.On the night of October 13, at the height of the worst shelling the island ever got, Danny, Casey, Furlow, and Haberman were crowded in a foxhole. After two and a half hours of it, a near-by oil dump was shooting flames two hundred feet high, ammunition dumps were going off, planes were blazing around the field, and flares were hanging in the sky like an evening at the planetarium.One day Danny's plane needed repairs and he couldn't go up. It was the first time he hadn't flown with Casey. That night we waited uncomfortably for a plane that hadn't come back. It was Casey's. I don't like to think of the expression on Danny's face. He quit his wisecracking abruptly and became grim and quiet. By that time he had official credit for five planes shot down. "Those goonies are going to pay if it's the last thing I do," he said bitterly. "I'm going to double my score for Casey."One day Danny himself turned up missing. A flight mate told of seeing a Grumman chasing a Zero right into the sea. That was three weeks after Casey went down. Danny, who had sworn to avenge his friends death, must have been overtrying that day. We missed those two boys. Thinking later of their short and tragic history, the high promise and the glory of their youth, we fought more savagely against the enemy.
Captain Joe Foss, VMF-121, in Joe Foss, Flying Marine: The Story Of His Flying Circus As Told To Walter Simmons, 1943
(news article from the Deer River News, Deer River, MN dated 15 March 1945)
Casey was an Irish-Norwegian farm boy, rugged, gifted, argumentative, and persistent. By the time he was sixteen he had breezed through high school at Grand Rapids, Minnesota. After junior college he went to the University of Minnesota, picking up medals along the way and graduating with high honors. He was smart — at Corpus Christi he got a 4.0 grade on the first third of his navigation work, leading the whole class….Casey was a Boy Scout and, like many farm youngsters, belonged to the 4-H Club. When his dad was ill with rheumatism, he ran the farm, passionately trying to make his field of potatoes the best in the United States, and every calf, pig or chicken on the farm a county fair champion. Other boys liked to be with him, because he knew how to do things. Every week end he brought home friends who learned such diverse arts as the proper way to shovel manure or solve trigonometry problems.Illness at home delayed his education, but Casey was graduated cum laude from Minnesota in March, 1941. He went right into naval aviation and that's where he met Danny [Cecil J. Doyle], who was almost two years younger…. Both boys were original members of the eight-man flight that became known as the Flying Circus. When everyone was given a nickname for radio communication in the air, Casey was tagged "Fool" and Danny "Ish"— the Foolish Twins. They reveled in the name. In camp they were inseparable, and they always flew together. "I have to go along and look after Casey," Danny always said, ignoring the fact that Casey was more than able to take care of himself.On the night of October 13, at the height of the worst shelling the island ever got, Danny, Casey, Furlow, and Haberman were crowded in a foxhole. After two and a half hours of it, a near-by oil dump was shooting flames two hundred feet high, ammunition dumps were going off, planes were blazing around the field, and flares were hanging in the sky like an evening at the planetarium.One day Danny's plane needed repairs and he couldn't go up. It was the first time he hadn't flown with Casey. That night we waited uncomfortably for a plane that hadn't come back. It was Casey's. I don't like to think of the expression on Danny's face. He quit his wisecracking abruptly and became grim and quiet. By that time he had official credit for five planes shot down. "Those goonies are going to pay if it's the last thing I do," he said bitterly. "I'm going to double my score for Casey."One day Danny himself turned up missing. A flight mate told of seeing a Grumman chasing a Zero right into the sea. That was three weeks after Casey went down. Danny, who had sworn to avenge his friends death, must have been overtrying that day. We missed those two boys. Thinking later of their short and tragic history, the high promise and the glory of their youth, we fought more savagely against the enemy.
Captain Joe Foss, VMF-121, in Joe Foss, Flying Marine: The Story Of His Flying Circus As Told To Walter Simmons, 1943
Gravesite Details
Entered the service from Minnesota.
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