The knock on the door came on a Saturday in late August 1967, more than 40 years ago this Memorial Day. When Geraldine Allen saw the two soldiers standing outside, she knew instantly that her husband, Sgt. 1st Class Eddie James Allen, was dead.

“She started screaming,” son Kenneth Allen, who was 6 years old at the time, remembers. “The rest of the day was just a blur.”

The Allens were living near Farrow Road in north Columbia, an area favored by African-American professionals. There were many military personnel there at a time when the Vietnam War was at its awful height.

“You would see those men in uniform come into the neighborhood, and you prayed they wouldn’t come to your door,” Kenneth Allen says. “You didn’t want to get that knock.”

The knock on the door came on a Saturday in late August 1967, more than 40 years ago this Memorial Day. When Geraldine Allen saw the two soldiers standing outside, she knew instantly that her husband, Sgt. 1st Class Eddie James Allen, was dead.

“She started screaming,” son Kenneth Allen, who was 6 years old at the time, remembers. “The rest of the day was just a blur.”

The Allens were living near Farrow Road in north Columbia, an area favored by African-American professionals. There were many military personnel there at a time when the Vietnam War was at its awful height.

“You would see those men in uniform come into the neighborhood, and you prayed they wouldn’t come to your door,” Kenneth Allen says. “You didn’t want to get that knock.”