This is, by necessity, a long post. It is a story to honor those who have braved combat, and displayed great courage. Please read it through, and then tell others about it.

Somewhere in a box, I have a picture. It is three elementary school children and a blonde German Shepard-Elkhound mix puppy standing next to a monument. The picture was taken in 1962 or 63, and it is my two sisters and I, and our dog, Scooter.

All of that is important, and it’s not. What is not as important is how my life has been intertwined with the name cast on the brass plate, and what is is the bigger story, the story of how that name came to be placed on the monument.

As I sat down to gather the links, I re-read the Medal of Honor citiation. It covered a period from April 29th through May 21st. One some web pages, the day of this man’s most significant action, is listed as May 5th, 1945, which, was a Saturday, by the way. Hang on to that fact, you’ll need it by the end of the post.

The monument was then, the day of the picture of my sisters and I, located near a sugar cane field on the island of Okinawa. It was there my father told us a story of an Army Medic by the name of Corporal Desmond T. Doss, who distinguished himself (that day) by climbing an escarpment, repeatedly, venturing out onto a machine gun fire swept battle field of open, relatively flat ground, to recover his fellow soldiers, and lower them down the escarpment to safety. A brave man indeed, but he was braver still, in the context of then, and even today than those key points describe.

Desmond T. Doss is (he is still living) a 7th Day Adventist. This Christian denomination does not believe in the taking of life. Desmond Doss could have easily avoided service in WWII. Because of his upbrining and personal faithfulness, a request for CO status would have, most likely, been granted without question. Yet, Desmond T. Doss joined the Army, not to kill, but to save lives.

This quote discussed the character of a man, being vilified for his faith by those he served with:

So what do you do with a soldier who won’t train on Saturday, eat meat, or carry a gun or bayonet? Doss’ commanding officer knew what to do. Paperwork was initiated to declare him unstable, a miss-fit, and wash him out of military service with a Section-8 discharge as “unsuitable for military service.” But Doss wanted to serve his country, he just refused to kill. He performed all of his other duties with dedication, was an exemplary a soldier in every other way. At his hearing he told the board, “I’d be a very poor Christian if I accepted a discharge implying that I was mentally off because of my religion. I’m sorry, gentlemen, but I can’t accept that kind of a discharge.” So the Army was “stuck” with Desmond Doss.

Desmond’s story has been put into a book, The Unlikeliest Hero by
Booten Herdon, and a movie, The
Conscientious Objector.

This site Home of Heros has the details of this story, and many others. Desmond’s story begins here.

Desmond Doss saved lives at Guam in July 1944, then at Leyte in the Philippines in Oct 1944, and Okinawa in Apr-May 1945 while assigned to the 77th Infantry Division, 307th Medical Detachment.

At the amphibious assault at Leyte, here’s an account of what happened:

Time after time at Leyte Doss braved enemy fire to go to the wounded, and to remove them to safety. Once he darted into the open to treat and rescue a wounded man even while the area was alive with sniper fire. From a distance his fellow soldiers watched in horror as a Japanese sniper leveled his rifle at the fearless medic. Because of the sniper’s position they could not return fire for fear of injuring some of their own. Doss treated the wounded man, evacuated him to the rear, and returned to his position. One of the sergeants told him, “Doss, we expected to see you killed any second. We couldn’t shoot the sniper without killing our own men, and he had his machine gun aimed right at you. Didn’t you see him?”

And, read this, which came to light many years after the war:

Years later a missionary in Japan related the story of Doss’ brush with death that day. After the service a Japanese man in the back of the room told one of the deacons, “That could very well have been me. I was there, and I remember having a soldier in my gun site, but I couldn’t pull the trigger.” Doss not only survived Leyte, for his repeated heroism he was awarded the Bronze Star Medal. So as Corporal Doss stood before the men of Company B at the base of the Maeda Escarpment on Okinawa, they were beginning to believe in the prayers of the medic whose only weapon was his Bible.

Sounds to me like God’s protection….

The time leading directly to his winning of the MOH begins with this actual quote from Lt Goronto, as his unit was about to take the Maeda Escarpment, a 400 ft high sheer cliff:

“Fellows, come over here and gather around. Doss wants to pray for us.”

He did, and on that first assault, while Alfa Company was being chewed up by the Japanses, Bravo had taken about 8-9 enemy emplacements, with only one wounded soldier. That was the 29th of April.

Here’s the story of the results of the after action report:

The next day a follow-up inquiry was made to determine how Company B had accomplished the miraculous assault on the Maeda Escarpment without a single casualty. A photographer arrived to take a picture and Lieutenant Goronto sent Desmond to the top to pose. (The photo at right is the US Army photo taken that day, and Desmond Doss is the man at the top.) As far back as Army headquarters in the States, everyone asked how Company B had pulled it off. No one could find a reasonable explanation. Finally, with no other way to conclude the report, the official answer was filed…all the way back to the United States. The official answer:

“Doss prayed!”

Another miracle.

The fighting continued, and on May 5th, it got bloody for Bravo Company.

On May 5th the tide of battle turned against the Americans. Enemy artillery, mortars and machinegun fire began to rake into the ranks of Company B, 77th Infantry Division. Japanese soldiers swarmed out of their foxholes and caves in every direction. Almost immediately 75 men fell wounded, and the remaining men were forced to fall back and retreat to the base of the escarpment. The only soldiers remaining at the top of the cliff were the wounded, the Japanese, and Desmond T. Doss.

Heedless of the shells that burst around him and the bullets directed his way, Desmond tended his injured comrades. At the base of the escarpment those few soldiers who had managed to escape the onslaught could only sit helplessly by and hear the sounds of the battle as the wounded struggled to survive atop the cliff. And then…amazingly…a wounded soldier appeared over the face of the escarpment. Dangling from a rope, he slowly descended to the safety of its base as a tall medic fed the rope through his hands from the summit. First one, then another, and another….and another. Heedless of the advancing Japanese, Desmond Doss went about the work of sending the wounded to safety. Reports of that day tell of Japanese advancing with rifles and bayonets to within a few feet of the medic, slowly lowering his men to safety, before one of the wounded could kill the enemy before they shot Doss.

For five hours Doss lowered soldier after soldier down the face of the escarpment, using little more than a tree stump to wind the top edge of the rope around. Throughout the five hours Desmond had only one thought. He prayed, “Lord, help me get one more. Just ONE more!” How many men Doss saved that day, only God knows. One hundred and fifty-five soldiers went up the escarpment that day, and only 55 were able to retreat without assistance. The Army determined the conscious objector who had almost been court martialed or discharged as unfit for military service, had saved 100 lives. “Couldn’t be,” Desmond had replied. It couldn’t have been more than 50. I wouldn’t have had the time to save 100 men.” In deference to Desmond’s humble estimate, when the citation for his Medal of Honor was written, they “split the difference”, crediting the intrepid soldier with saving 75 fellow soldiers.

More miracles, about 100 men being rescued for a start, but this lone medic, slaving away to save the wounded, ending the fierce battle unscathed.

In the ensuing days, Cpl Doss continued to save the men he served with, and was wounded himself. He tended to his own wounds and directed other wounded be cared for before himself.

Read the rest of the story here and here.

And through it all, when he got to the hospital ship, and found he was missing the Bible his wife had given him, he had word sent to his unit on the beach, to let them know he had lost this precious “weapon.” Desmond Doss was awarded the Medal of Honor by President Roosevelt. When he returned hom after the ceremony, there was something waiting for him:

At home another surprise awaited the young man. His men hadn’t forgotten the brave medic or his love for the Word of God. The message about “Doss’ Bible” had been delivered. Incredibly, the men who once mocked the Godly Seventh-Day Adventist who would not compromise, had returned to the Maeda Escarpment with a new mission and purpose. After soundly defeating the Japanese they fanned out across the rocky terrain and conducted a search until they found, and mailed home, Desmond’s Bible.

Near the beginning of this post, I asked you to hang onto the fact that May 5th was a Saturday. The 7th Day Adventists continue to keep the original Jewish Sabbath on Saturday, unlike other Christian denominations that use Sunday as the Sabbath. Desmond Doss was saving many lives on the Sabbath he observed.

Desmond Doss remains active in his Church near Lookout Mountain in Rising Fawn, Georgia. I plan to make a trip up there soon to meet this man, who does what so few others seem to be able to do: Live by a moral code, regardless of the ridcule of others, and to steadfastly love his “neighbor” as he would love himself.

I can only guess this is the first story I heard about the coveted Congressional Medal of Honor, as a 3rd grader on an island far out in the Pacific Ocean. It took me years to see that the story of Desmond Doss is a reflection of Jesus Christ on earth, which is the story I missed until a few years ago.

In reflecting on not only this “connection” in my life, I also lived on Guam a few years later, and while I was in the Navy, I served aboard a ship named for a sailor, GM Paul Carr, who died aboard USS SAMUEL B. ROBERTS (DE-413) on Oct 25th, 1944 at the Battle Off Samar, while the outnumbered and out gunned task force of “Taffy 3” kept a Japanese battle force from breaking through and wiping out the Army troops ashore at Leyte, where Desmond Doss had landed. I can hang onto Psalm 139:16 as a result of this study.

While researching this material, I found the Army has made a specialized pack for the “Combat Live Savers” (CLS) personnel, and have named the M3A Pack in honor of Desmond Doss.

Once more, I find interesting things on Fjord Man.

In this post, he links to a site that has an analysis of comments by modern historians Lewis and Pipes, against the backdrop of the insightful commentary of De Tocqueville.

Here’s the “money quote:”

“I studied the Quran a great deal. I came away from that study with the conviction that by and large there have been few religions in the world as deadly to men as that of Muhammad. So far as I can see, it is the principal cause of the decadence so visible today in the Muslim world and, though less absurd than the polytheism of old, its social and political tendencies are in my opinion more to be feared, and I therefore regard it as a form of decadence rather than a form of progress in relation to paganism itself.”

A brilliant mind….

There stood the Captain, the XO, the OOD, and a whole bunch of others, looking over the starboard bridge wing at the drone in the water, a few yards from the hull of the ship.

Rewind to the morning of that day in the northern Puerto Rican “OPAREA.” We were in the Caribbean to pump fuel and deliver stores to the “real” ships, who were down there exercising the equipment that differentiated them from being merchant hulls. We have a detachment from Fleet Composite Squadron Six (VC-6) embarked to provide drone target services.

The VC-6 guys loved using us as a launch platform. MILWAUKEE (AOR-2) had a big flight deck aft, designed to support two CH-46 cargo helicopters for VERTREP (vertical replenishment – more on this in some future post). There were two cavernous hangers for the “birds” built into the after superstructure, plenty of room to stage the drones on their launch platforms. They could set up the drones for launch in an area free of the elements, and with plenty of lighting in the pre-dawn period. When the operations were to begin, they rolled up the doors and wheeled the set up drones out to the deck edge, wired them up and they were ready to go.

They also loved to set up their control station in my helo control tower. Once more, it was enclosed, with three big windows, and an elevated, commanding view of the flight deck and aft of the ship. They flew the drones by watching an x-y plotter that dead reckoned the flight path of the drones. They would mark the plotting surface with the planned formation of shooters, so they could guide the drone over the ship getting its run. The drones launched with small rockets from the frame that held them and were on their way. It was pretty cool to hang out on the flight deck, between launches, and watch the tin cans lined up astern, pounding out VT-NF 5”/54 rounds at the inbound targets.

The plan for the day was to sequentially launch drones all day long, as each one reached fuel exhaustion and had the chute deployment commanded, the next one left the deck. My crew in Combat Information Center (CIC), under the watchful eyes of OSC “Mac,” would plot the splash point of each drone, so we could send the helo out to retrieve them at the end of the exercise. Being pretty new at all of this, I recall he used an overlay for the maneuvering board with a “Z” on it. I wish I could remember the name of the method, but is was an “old school” search and rescue plotting method. I do remember this: When the shooters smartly hauled off when the last target splashed, Chief Mac’s plotting drove the recovery platform to all six of them, regardless of the fact some had been floating out there for about 6 hours.

The VC-6 crew cleared their gear off the deck and an H-46 was rolled out for launch. They had the “wet crewman” (Search and Rescue Swimmer) aboard, and a long pendant to be used to attach to the hook on the top of the drone, so they could lift it and then deposit it back on the flight deck. The OS Helo Direction Controller in CIC vectored the H-46 to first drone and the Captain requested a course to one of the other drones. Off we steered to one of the orange unmanned vehicles.

Now I’m caught up. Wide angle shot from the pilot house door at the multitude of personnel of the bridge watch team and the CO and XO leaning over the bulwark, some 50 feet above the ocean surface at this thing floating right next to us. Cut to the helo, about a half mile away, hovering so close to the water, that the wheels were almost touching the surface, with a mist of blowing sea water enveloping the chopper. You can see the movement of the pendant off the rear ramp, as the crew, invisible at this distance, due to the mist and shadowed interior of the helo, thrashed about, trying to snag the hook of the drone without much success.

Since the helo crew had their job somewhat under control and sunset coming in the not too distant time frame, we once again peer over the bridge wing. Finally, the CO rhetorically asks “How are we going to get that?” After about 10 seconds of silence, I say “I will!” All eyes pan my direction. “I have my snorkeling gear in my stateroom” I volunteer. The idea takes hold. I also look up at the Signal Bridge and ask if one of the SMs (who was a swimmer) wanted to go. He said “yes,” and the Captain directed the crew to man the whaleboat. I took off and grabbed my gear, pulling on my pair of “UDTs” and headed to the starboard boat davit. We lowered the boat, drove the short distance to the drone. The signalman and I rolled over the side and attached a line from the whaleboat to the drone. Once the line was secured to a set of bits, we swam over and each grabbed a wing, while the motor whaleboat pulled the drone over to a position under the boat boom. We connected the hook to the drone and up it went.

We had just shown how we could pretty much double up on drone recovery, get one with the helo, and one with the ship. In short order we had the 6 drones back aboard to be flushed out and prepped for future launches. Over the next few weeks, I got to recover a number of drones. Not only was it a fun break from watch standing, this happened in February, while our spouses and children were going through one of the coldest winters Norfolk, VA had had in quite some time.

The water temperature was a bathtub warm 85 degrees, and so clear that I could see the entire bottom of the ship from about a ¼ mile away. The ship drew 40’ of draft when loaded and was 659’ long. The water depth was 12,000’ and it was incredible to look down in the water, seeing the sun’s rays being swallowed by the dark blue way below the surface. In all my formal “swim calls” during this operation, I only saw one fish, which was a very large sun fish that had come to inspect one of the drones. There were no sharks around, or anything else.

We steamed back into Norfolk on March 1st, during a snow storm. It was quite a contrast from the Caribbean. Actually, the snow wasn’t such a bad deal compared to the dirty looks we got from our families because we had really nice sun tans…..

What can I say? Someone had to do it…