History is a funny thing. Sometimes it's a heavy coat you can't quite shake off. For Nathan Bedford Forrest III, that coat was made of lead.
Most people hear the name and immediately think of the first one—the Confederate "Wizard of the Saddle," the slave trader, the guy associated with the early KKK. It’s a lot of baggage. But honestly? The great-grandson was a completely different breed of man. He didn't spend his life looking backward at the "Lost Cause." Instead, he looked up. Literally.
Nathan Bedford Forrest III became a pioneer in the U.S. Army Air Forces. He wasn't just some legacy hire; he was a brilliant, aggressive officer who climbed the ranks based on grit. Then, in 1943, he did something that cemented his own place in the books: he became the first American general to die in combat in the European theater.
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From West Point to the Clouds
Forrest III was born in Memphis in 1905. You can imagine the expectations. His father, Nathan Bedford Forrest II, was deep into the "professional descendant" business, serving as the commander-in-chief of the Sons of Confederate Veterans. But the younger Nathan? He had other plans.
He headed to West Point, graduating in 1928. Initially, he followed the family tradition and went into the Cavalry. It makes sense, right? The Forrest name was synonymous with horses. But the world was changing. In 1929, he transferred to the Air Corps. He saw where the future of warfare was heading, and it wasn't on the ground.
By the time World War II kicked off, he was moving fast. We’re talking rapid-fire promotions. He went from Major to Brigadier General in less than two years. That doesn't happen unless you're actually good at your job. He wasn't just sitting behind a desk in Washington, either.
June 13, 1943: The Raid on Kiel
In May 1943, Forrest was sent to England to serve with the Eighth Air Force. He was technically the Chief of Staff of the Second Air Force, acting as an observer. He didn't have to be on the front lines. But that wasn't his style.
On June 13, he decided to fly as an observer on a massive bombing raid. The target? The German submarine yards at Kiel. These were the "U-boat pens"—massively fortified structures that were essential to the Nazi grip on the Atlantic.
He climbed into a B-17 Flying Fortress. It was Mission Number 63.
The flak over Kiel was legendary. It was a wall of steel. Somewhere over the target, Forrest’s plane took a direct hit. Eyewitnesses from other bombers in the formation saw the B-17 start to struggle. It wasn't a clean fall. The plane stayed under control just long enough for some of the crew to bail out.
Posthumous reports—and the citation for his Distinguished Service Cross—suggest that Forrest stayed at the controls to give his men a chance to live. He never made it out. The plane exploded before he could jump.
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The Search and the Discovery
For months, he was just "Missing in Action." His family waited. The Army waited.
It wasn't until September 1943 that the truth literally washed ashore. His body was found near a seaplane base on Ruegen Island in Germany. The Germans actually buried him with full military honors in a small cemetery near Wiek. It’s a strange image, isn't it? A descendant of one of the most controversial figures in American history being buried by the Nazis because they respected his rank and bravery.
After the war, his widow, Frances, wanted him home. In 1949, he was exhumed and moved to Arlington National Cemetery. He’s buried in Section 11, not far from the old house of Robert E. Lee.
Why He Still Matters
We talk a lot about "nurture vs. nature" and whether we’re defined by our ancestors. Nathan Bedford Forrest III is the ultimate counter-argument to the idea that you're stuck with your family's legacy.
He fought for the Union. He fought against fascism. He died protecting a crew in a war that defined the modern world.
He was also the last male in the direct Forrest line. When he died at 38, that specific branch of the family tree ended. No children. Just a Distinguished Service Cross and a Purple Heart.
What to take away from his story
If you're ever at Arlington, look for his grave. It’s a reminder that names are just names until you do something with them. He didn't lean on the "General" title he inherited; he earned a new one in the cockpit of a bomber.
- Look past the name: When researching historical figures, always check for the "III" or "IV." Legacies often diverge sharply.
- The 8th Air Force History: If you're interested in the Kiel raid, look up "USAAF Mission #63." It was one of the costliest raids of that period and changed how the U.S. used fighter escorts.
- Visit the Memorials: The Memphis area still has plaques dedicated to him, often overlooked because people assume they’re about his great-grandfather. They’re worth a second look.
Next time you hear the name Nathan Bedford Forrest, remember there was a guy in 1943 who stayed in a burning B-17 so his friends could go home. That's a story worth telling.