Archive for the ‘Heroism’ Category

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Obit watch: June 29, 2022.

Wednesday, June 29th, 2022

Hershel “Woody” Williams, big damn hero and Medal of Honor recipient. He was 98.

His Medal of Honor citation:

For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty as demolition sergeant serving with the 21st Marines, 3d Marine Division, in action against enemy Japanese forces on Iwo Jima, Volcano Islands, 23 February 1945. Quick to volunteer his services when our tanks were maneuvering vainly to open a lane for the infantry through the network of reinforced concrete pillboxes, buried mines, and black volcanic sands, Cpl. Williams daringly went forward alone to attempt the reduction of devastating machine-gun fire from the unyielding positions. Covered only by four riflemen, he fought desperately for four hours under terrific enemy small-arms fire and repeatedly returned to his own lines to prepare demolition charges and obtain serviced flamethrowers, struggling back, frequently to the rear of hostile emplacements, to wipe out one position after another. On one occasion, he daringly mounted a pillbox to insert the nozzle of his flamethrower through the air vent, killing the occupants, and silencing the gun; on another he grimly charged enemy riflemen who attempted to stop him with bayonets and destroyed them with a burst of flame from his weapon. His unyielding determination and extraordinary heroism in the face of ruthless enemy resistance were directly instrumental in neutralizing one of the most fanatically defended Japanese strongpoints encountered by his regiment and aided vitally in enabling his company to reach its objective. Cpl. Williams’ aggressive fighting spirit and valiant devotion to duty throughout this fiercely contested action sustain and enhance the highest traditions of the U.S. Naval Service.

According to the paper of record, he was “the last survivor among the 472 servicemen who were awarded the Medal of Honor for extraordinary bravery in World War II and the oldest living recipient of the medal”.

(Alternative link.)

Lawrence’s tribute from 2019.

Margaret Keane, the painter of big-eyed children.

In 1970, on a trip to San Francisco, Ms. Keane told a reporter that her former husband had painted none of the big-eyed waifs, and offered to prove it with a demonstration of their respective painting abilities in Union Square. The media splash drew crowds. Ms. Keane arrived with paints and easel. But Mr. Keane did not show up, and he continued to play the part of the successful artist.
In 1986, Ms. Keane raised another dramatic “paint-off” challenge — this time in a Honolulu court, where she had brought a defamation suit against Mr. Keane for falsely claiming that he had painted her work. Her lawyers argued that a painting demonstration was the only way to settle the case. A judge agreed.
In less than an hour, Ms. Keane executed a big-eyed urchin. Mr. Keane, who represented himself in the case, said he had a sore shoulder and could not lift his arm to paint.

Posted in Art, Heroism, History, Obits | 2 Comments »

Angelo J. Liteky.

Monday, May 30th, 2022

Those who have been following my entries for Memorial Day and Veteran’s Day may have figured out there’s a theme going on here.

I went back and forth on whether I wanted to include this entry or not. In the end, I felt like: a person who receives the Medal of Honor, no matter what they do with their life later on, deserves praise and credit for heroism.

I can’t find a lot of information about Mr. Liteky’s early life, his ordination, or his joining the military online. But he did join the Army and served as a chaplain (with the rank of captain) with the 199th Infantry Brigade of the 12th Infantry Regiment.

He was out with the troops on December 6, 1967 when they came under fire from what’s described as a “numerically superior enemy force”. From his Medal of Honor citation:

Chaplain Liteky distinguished himself by exceptional heroism while serving with Company A, 4th Battalion, 12th Infantry, 199th Light Infantry Brigade. He was participating in a search and destroy operation when Company A came under intense fire from a battalion size enemy force. Momentarily stunned from the immediate encounter that ensued, the men hugged the ground for cover. Observing 2 wounded men, Chaplain Liteky moved to within 15 meters of an enemy machine gun position to reach them, placing himself between the enemy and the wounded men. When there was a brief respite in the fighting, he managed to drag them to the relative safety of the landing zone. Inspired by his courageous actions, the company rallied and began placing a heavy volume of fire upon the enemy’s positions. In a magnificent display of courage and leadership, Chaplain Liteky began moving upright through the enemy fire, administering last rites to the dying and evacuating the wounded. Noticing another trapped and seriously wounded man, Chaplain Liteky crawled to his aid. Realizing that the wounded man was too heavy to carry, he rolled on his back, placed the man on his chest and through sheer determination and fortitude crawled back to the landing zone using his elbows and heels to push himself along. pausing for breath momentarily, he returned to the action and came upon a man entangled in the dense, thorny underbrush. Once more intense enemy fire was directed at him, but Chaplain Liteky stood his ground and calmly broke the vines and carried the man to the landing zone for evacuation. On several occasions when the landing zone was under small arms and rocket fire, Chaplain Liteky stood up in the face of hostile fire and personally directed the medivac helicopters into and out of the area. With the wounded safely evacuated, Chaplain Liteky returned to the perimeter, constantly encouraging and inspiring the men. Upon the unit’s relief on the morning of 7 December 1967, it was discovered that despite painful wounds in the neck and foot, Chaplain Liteky had personally carried over 20 men to the landing zone for evacuation during the savage fighting. Through his indomitable inspiration and heroic actions, Chaplain Liteky saved the lives of a number of his comrades and enabled the company to repulse the enemy. Chaplain Liteky’s actions reflect great credit upon himself and were in keeping with the highest traditions of the U.S. Army.

At some point, he changed his name to Charles James Liteky. In 1975, he left the priesthood. In 1983, he married: his wife was a former nun.

He went on to become a peace activist (out of respect for his views, I am not using his military rank), and, on July 29, 1986, he renounced his Medal of Honor. According to his Wikipedia entry, he placed “it in an envelope addressed to then-President Ronald Reagan near the Vietnam Veterans Memorial on the National Mall in Washington, D.C.” He is the only recipient of the Medal of Honor who renounced the award. He went on to participate in protests against US intervention in Central America and the invasion of Iraq.

He died on January 20, 2017, at the age of 85.

There is a website devoted to Charles Liteky which discusses his life (and quotes from his Medal of Honor citation). Mr. Liteky also wrote a book, Renunciation: My Pilgrimage from Catholic Military Chaplain, Vietnam Hawk, and Medal of Honor Recipient to Civilian Warrior for Peace.

Posted in Heroism, History | Comments Closed

Obit watch: May 14, 2022.

Saturday, May 14th, 2022

Sergeant Major John Canley (USMC – ret.)

Sergeant Major Canley received the Medal of Honor for actions during the Battle of Hue City. His citation:

For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty in action against the enemy while serving as Company Gunnery Sergeant, Company A, First Battalion, First Marines, First Marine Division from 31 January to 6 February 1968, in the Republic of Vietnam. Company A fought off multiple vicious attacks as it rapidly moved along the highway toward Hue City to relieve friendly forces that were surrounded by enemy forces. Despite being wounded in these engagements, Gunnery Sergeant Canley repeatedly rushed across fire-swept terrain to carry his wounded Marines to safety. After his commanding officer was severely wounded, Gunnery Sergeant Canley took command and led the company into Hue City. At Hue City, caught in deadly crossfire from enemy machine gun positions, he set up a base of fire and maneuvered with a platoon in a flanking attack that eliminated several enemy positions. Retaining command of the company for three days, he led attacks against multiple enemy fortified positions while routinely braving enemy fire to carry wounded Marines to safety. On 4 February, he led a group of Marines into an enemy-occupied building in Hue City. He moved into the open to draw fire, located the enemy, eliminated the threat, and expanded the company’s hold on the building room by room. Gunnery Sergeant Canley then gained position above the enemy strongpoint and dropped in a large satchel charge that forced the enemy to withdraw. On 6 February, during a fierce firefight at a hospital compound, Gunnery Sergeant Canley twice scaled a wall in full view of the enemy to carry wounded Marines to safety. By his undaunted courage, selfless sacrifice, and unwavering devotion to duty, Gunnery Sergeant Canley reflected great credit upon himself and upheld the highest traditions of the Marine Corps and the United States Naval Service.

…

One common thread woven throughout Canley’s award citation, and in anecdotes shared by those who fought alongside him, was that he was, above all else, a Marine who put other Marines before himself, regardless of the risk.

Sergeant Major Canley originally received the Navy Cross, but that was upgraded in 2018 to the Medal of Honor.

Robert C. McFarlane, former national security advisor for Ronald Reagan.

Mr. McFarlane pleaded guilty in 1988 to charges of withholding information from Congress in its investigation of the affair, in which the Reagan administration sold arms covertly to Iran beginning in 1985 in exchange for the freedom of Western hostages in Lebanon. Profits from the arms sales were then secretly funneled to the contra rebels in Nicaragua, who were trying to overthrow the country’s Marxist regime, known as the Sandinistas.

…

And its fallout left Mr. McFarlane so ridden with guilt that he attempted suicide in his home in February 1987. While his wife, Jonda, a high school English teacher, was upstairs grading papers, he took an overdose of Valium and got into bed alongside her. When he couldn’t be roused in the morning, he was taken to a hospital and revived. He subsequently underwent many weeks of psychiatric therapy at the Bethesda Naval Hospital.
It was a stunning act in official Washington. Many considered it an unconcealed howl of pain by someone from whom they would have least expected it — one of the capital’s most self-contained of public and powerful men.
Killing himself, Mr. McFarlane believed at the time, was “the honorable thing to do,” he said in an interview for this obituary in January 2016 at his home in the Watergate complex in Washington.
“I so let down the country,” he said.
He earlier had tried to explain his actions by citing the ancient Japanese tradition of the honorable suicide. But he came to realize, he said in the interview, that those ways had no resonance in modern American culture and that most people could not understand such behavior.

Henry Scott Stokes, journalist and biographer of Yukio Mishima.

NYT obit for Randy Weaver.

Val Broeksmit. No, you haven’t heard of him, but this is one of the oddest obits I’ve read recently.

Mr. Broeksmit was an “itinerant musician”. His stepfather worked for Deutsche Bank, but committed suicide. After his stepfather’s death, Mr. Broeksmit somehow obtained his passwords and supposedly used them to download a bunch of “whistleblower” documents revealing misconduct by Deutsche Bank.

For nearly five years, the younger Mr. Broeksmit teased the F.B.I., congressional investigators and journalists into a hunt for the incriminating needles in a haystack of documents claiming to implicate Deutsche Bank in a run of malfeasance: laundering Russian rubles through stock transactions, manipulating interest rates at which banks lend to each other, and supposedly funneling money from Russian banks to lend to the Trump Organization.

…

Just how much the confidential bank documents Mr. Broeksmit acquired helped investigators is debatable.

He also somehow got involved in the Sony hack. Mr. Broeksmit was 46.

Custodial employees reporting for work shortly before 7 a.m. on Monday, April 25, found his body in the courtyard of Woodrow Wilson Senior High School in northeast Los Angeles. The police said they found no sign of trauma or foul play. The medical examiner said the cause remained undetermined.

Posted in Heroism, History, Leadership, Obits | 1 Comment »

Obit watch: April 3, 2022.

Sunday, April 3rd, 2022

In no particular order of importance:

Bill Fries, also known as “C.W. McCall”. He’s been reported dead before, but this time it seems to be confirmed.

Mr. Fries was working as an ad executive at Bozell & Jacobs in Omaha in the 1970s, when he helped to create a series of television commercials for Metz Baking Company about a trucker named C.W. McCall hauling Old Home bread in an eighteen-wheeler and a gum-snapping waitress named Mavis at the Old Home Filler-Up an’ Keep On A-Truckin’ Cafe.
The ads — including one that ended with the tagline “Old Home is good buns” — became wildly popular and helped pump up Old Home bread sales as they told the story of a diesel-scented romance between Mavis and C.W., who spoke in a formidable twang voiced by Mr. Fries.

…

With a record deal from MGM, Mr. Fries spawned a cultural phenomenon with “Convoy,” an ode to renegade truckers driving across the country, written with Chip Davis, who had also written the music for the Old Home bread ads and who went on to found the group Mannheim Steamroller, known for its Christmas music.
Crackling with CB radio lingo, the song tells the story of the truckers Rubber Duck and Pig Pen who are “puttin’ the hammer down” as they thumb their noses at speed limits, industry rules and law enforcement officers — “bears” and “smokies” in CB parlance. Along the way, they end up leading 1,000 trucks and “11 longhaired friends of Jesus in a chartreuse microbus.”
Originally recorded merely as an album filler, “Convoy” tapped into the surging popularity of trucker culture and CB radio, which truckers used to communicate during long, lonely hours on the open road. It was part of a boom in trucking-themed country songs like “Roll On Big Mama” by Joe Stampley and “Willin’” by Little Feat.
“Convoy” spent six weeks at the top of the country charts and crossed into the top of the pop charts for a week, according to The World-Herald. More than 20 million copies of the single have been sold, according to Bozell. In 1978, Mr. Peckinpah turned the song into a movie, “Convoy,” starring Kris Kristofferson as Rubber Duck.

People who know me well know this story. For the rest: when I was younger (around the time “Convoy” was a hit) I owned a 45 RPM record (kids, ask your parents about 45 RPM records) of “Convoy” that I literally wore the grooves off of. (Kids, ask your parents about record players, needles, and grooves.)

We also owned an 8-track tape (kids, ask your parents…) with that song on it, that had the track break conveniently located at about the 2:27 point in that video.

Estelle Harris. Other credits include “Once Upon A Time In America”, “Mrs. Potato Head” in the “Toy Story” sequels, a guest appearance on a spinoff of a minor SF TV show from the 1960s, and “Futurama”.

Thomas F. Staley, who built up the Harry Ransom Center.

Dr. Staley, a scholar of James Joyce, arrived at the university in 1988. Over the next 25 years, he brought a literary sensibility and a competitive zeal to acquiring collections — and keeping them from going to universities like Harvard and Yale.
Stephen Enniss, who succeeded him as the Ransom Center’s director, said Dr. Staley had been adept at persuading university administrators, donors and the public at large to preserve literature that he saw as of lasting value.
“Tom’s enthusiasms became everyone’s enthusiasms,” Dr. Enniss said by phone.

…

Not long after being hired to run the Ransom Center, Dr. Staley learned that the archives of Stuart Gilbert, Joyce’s translator and friend, were available. According to The New Yorker, the papers, which cost the Ransom Center $265,000, came with an unexpected find: Joyce’s handwritten edits of the first chapter of “Finnegans Wake.” Dr. Staley estimated that those pages alone were worth $750,000.
In the 25 years that followed, he acquired the papers of dozens of literary luminaries, including Doris Lessing, Jorge Luis Borges, J.M. Coetzee, Penelope Lively and Isaac Bashevis Singer, as well as the archives of Robert De Niro and the Life magazine photojournalist David Douglas Duncan. Dr. Staley also continued to teach English.
When Dr. Staley visited the playwright Tom Stoppard at his home in England, he found his papers scattered in his study and in another building on his property. As Dr. Staley recalled to The Times, Mr. Stoppard told him, “What you want is mostly stuff I would throw away: notes on this and that.” But there were also drafts of his plays, notes on revisions and drawings of stage sets.
On another trip, to Arthur Miller’s house in Connecticut, Dr. Staley learned that in a box Miller thought had been filled with roofing nails, he had discovered valuable notebooks and a short story — the very type of items that help fill an archive. Although parts of Miller’s archive had been at the Ransom Center for decades, a formal deal to acquire the collection, for $2.7 million, was not made until 2017.

General Charles G. Boyd (USAF- ret.).

In 1966, General Boyd, who was a captain at the time, volunteered for a dangerous mission in Vietnam — attacking surface-to-air missile sites around Hanoi. After repeated passes through enemy fire, his F-105D plane was hit and set ablaze. He had to eject, and, shortly after landing in a rice paddy, he was captured.
He spent the next 2,488 days enduring torture, isolation, malnutrition and interrogation in various squalid prisons, including the so-called Hanoi Hilton; for 18 months, he was imprisoned in a cell next to the Navy flyer John S. McCain, who would go on to become a United States senator and presidential candidate.

After his release…

He swiftly ascended in the Air Force chain of command, becoming the only former prisoner of war from the Vietnam conflict to achieve four-star rank. He also served as director of plans on the Air Force staff and as commander of the Air University at Maxwell Air Force Base in Alabama. He finished his much-decorated 36-year Air Force career as deputy commander in chief of the United States European Command in Stuttgart, Germany, where he helped oversee the drawdown of forces at the end of the Cold War.
After he retired from the Air Force in 1995, he took on several civilian roles that built on his expertise in homeland security and foreign policy.
Among the most notable was his tenure as executive director of the U.S. Commission on National Security/21st Century, also known as the Hart-Rudman Commission, headed by former Senators Gary Hart and Warren Rudman. Barely eight months before the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001, the commission warned — in a report that was largely ignored — that the gravest threat to the United States was the likelihood that a terrorist attack would take place on American soil and would kill large numbers of people.

Barrie Youngfellow, TV actress. (“It’s A Living”. Other credits include some cop shows, “Fernwood Tonight”, “Emergency”, and “WKRP In Cincinnati”.)

Posted in Books, Heroism, History, Music, Obits, TV | Comments Closed

Obit watch: January 23, 2022.

Sunday, January 23rd, 2022

Dennis Smith.

I think a lot of people (outside of firefighting) have forgotten that name, but Report from Engine Co. 82 was a huge deal back in the day.

The book sold some three million copies, ennobled Mr. Smith as a champion of his profession and inspired countless men and women to become firefighters.
“The author’s pride clearly derives not from his writing, but from his job as a firefighter — the most hazardous job of all, according to the National Safety Council,” Anatole Broyard wrote in his Times book review. “The risk one takes in, writing a book — and there are those who will tell you that this is the most hazardous occupation — must seem comparatively small to him. One hopes he will go on taking it.”

I read it at an inappropriately young age. I won’t say how old I was, but “Emergency” was on first-run network television at the time. The thing that sticks with me all these years later is how much abuse Smith and his colleagues took from the people they were trying to help.

Mr. Smith was a Renaissance firefighter.
He played eight musical instruments; founded Firehouse magazine in 1976 (and sold it in 1991 and made $7 million); was the founding chairman of the New York City Fire Museum and was instrumental in converting the Engine Company 30 firehouse in SoHo as its site; was president and chairman of the Kips Bay Boys and Girls Club, which moved from Manhattan to the South Bronx; and was a chairman of the New York Academy of Art.
He was the first chairman of the International Association of Fire Chiefs’ Near Miss task force, focused on preventing firefighter injuries and deaths, and won awards from the Congressional Fire Services Institute and the National Fire Academy, and the New York Fire Department.

Any man who tries to prevent deaths and injuries in his chosen occupation, no matter what that is, deserves mad props in my opinion.

In a Times opinion essay in 1971, Mr. Smith recalled his ebullience at the prospect of becoming a firefighter: “I would play to the cheers of excited hordes — climbing ladders, pulling hose, and saving children from the waltz of the hot masked devil. I paused and fed the fires of my ego — tearful mothers would kiss me, editorial writers would extol me in lofty phrases, and mayors would pin ribbons to my breast.”
After eight years, he wrote, the romantic visions had faded.
“I have climbed a thousand ladders, and crawled Indian fashion down as many halls into a deadly nightshade of smoke, a whirling darkness of black poison, knowing all the while that the ceiling may fall, or the floor collapse, or a hidden explosive ignite,” Mr. Smith added. “I have watched friends die, and I have carried death in my hands. With good reason have Christians chosen fire as the metaphor of hell.”
“There is no excitement, no romance, in being this close to death,” he wrote, later adding: “Yet, I know that I could not do anything else with such a great sense of accomplishment.”

I’ve gone back and forth for a few days about whether I should include the obit for Ann Arensberg. There was finally one thing that tipped me over the edge.

“Sister Wolf” was roundly praised by critics and won the 1981 National Book Award for best first novel, beating out Jean M. Auel’s mega-best seller, “The Clan of the Cave Bear.” (Between 1979 and 1987, the awards were known as the American Book Awards, not to be confused with another, unrelated literary prize with the same name; they also included many more categories than they do today, including best first novel.)

That wasn’t the tipping point. This was:

Ms. Arensberg’s next book, the satirical “Group Sex” (1986), grew out of a short story she had written in 1980 and drew on material closer at hand, including her own life. It told the story of a meek, eager-to-please book editor named Frances Girard who falls in love with her temperamental opposite: a brash, rebellious theater director named Paul Treat, best known, Ms. Arensberg wrote, for putting on a production of “As You Like It” but with seals.

I’m sorry to laugh at someone’s obit, but “As You Like It” with seals kicks over my giggle box. Indeed, it has me thinking about a whole line of Shakespeare productions with animals. An all-racoon production of “Macbeth”?

Posted in Books, Heroism, Obits | 2 Comments »

Where do we get such men?

Friday, December 17th, 2021

I briefly touched the other day on the story of Sgt. 1st Class Alwyn Cashe, who was awarded the Medal of Honor on Thursday.

Sgt. Cashe was one of three soldiers who received the Medal of Honor that day. Task and Purpose has a good profile of all three men.

The other two are Sgt. 1st Class Christopher Celiz (who received the medal posthumously, along with Sgt. Cashe), and Master Sgt. Earl Plumlee (who is still alive, and currently serving with the US Army).

Posted in Heroism, History | Comments Closed

Tweet of the day.

Tuesday, December 14th, 2021

There’s a backstory to that tweet.

Here it is.

Matthias said he was struck by how well Cashe knew his soldiers — their strengths, weaknesses, and whatever challenges they were facing — and how much he cared for them. He “talked about them like they were his children,” he said. Dodge who was a squad leader under Cashe, recalled once having marital problems while he was deployed to Iraq. While they had some — very rare and brief — down time, Dodge said Cashe “called my wife from Iraq and talked to her at length.” He then came and told Dodge to call her as well.
“‘I know you’re having problems, and I want you to have your head clear while you’re out here doing stuff,’” Dodge recalled Cashe telling him. “At the time I was kind of angry because I was tired, I just wanted to sleep. But he had taken his time when he could have been sleeping … to try to take care of me. And that’s something I’ll never forget.”

…

Once Cashe was loaded onto the medevac with the rest of the wounded, they were flown to the nearest military hospital in Iraq. Dodge recounted the medevac flight to Balad Air Base where the wounded were triaged and treated. “Sgt. Cashe, the whole time there, I could hear him yelling ‘how are my guys? What’s going on with them? Where are they at?’ Kind of refusing, almost, treatment until he knew that we were all being taken care of.”

Posted in Heroism, History, Leadership | Comments Closed

Father Emil Joseph Kapaun.

Thursday, November 11th, 2021

Father Kapaun was born April 20, 1916 (!!!!) near Pilsen, Kansas. He graduated high school in 1930, completed his seminary education (Conception Seminary College and Kenrick Theological Seminary) in 1940 and was ordained as a priest that year.

I’m not sure what happened between 1940 and 1943, but in January of 1943, he was appointed auxiliary chaplain at the Herington Army Airfield. He was named priest there in December of 1943.

In August of 1944, he went into the US Army Chaplain School, and graduated in October. From April of 1945 to May of 1946 he served in the Burma Theater of operations.

He ministered to U.S. soldiers and local missions, sometimes traversing nearly 2,000 miles (3,200 km) a month by jeep or airplane.

He mustered out in July of 1946 and used the GI Bill to earn a MA degree in education. In September of 1948, he rejoined the Army as a chaplain at Fort Bliss.

In January 1950, Kapaun became a chaplain in the 8th Cavalry Regiment, 1st Cavalry Division, often performing battle drills near Mount Fuji, Japan. On July 15, 1950, the 1st Cavalry Division and Kapaun embarked and left Tokyo Bay sailing for Korea, less than a month after North Korea had invaded South Korea.

…

The 1st Cavalry Division made the first amphibious landing in the Korean War on July 18, 1950. The Division was soon moved up to help slow the North Korean Korean People’s Army (KPA)’s advance until more reinforcements could arrive. The Division engaged in several skirmishes with the KPA but had to retreat each time. Kapaun and his assistant learned of a wounded soldier stranded by enemy machine gun and small arms fire during one of these retreats. Knowing that no litter bearers were available, the two braved enemy fire and saved the man’s life, for which Kapaun was awarded the Bronze Star Medal with a “V” device for valor.

…

Father Kapaun quickly became known for his willingness to risk his own life in order to save his men. He sometimes used the hood of his jeep as an altar on which to celebrate Mass and hear confession. [King]

…

The United Nations forces progressed northward but were met by a surprise intervention by the Chinese People’s Volunteer Army (PVA). The first engagement with this new enemy took place at the Battle of Unsan near Unsan, North Korea, on November 1–2, 1950. Nearly 20,000 PVA soldiers attacked Kapaun’s 8th Cavalry Regiment. Despite pleas for him to escape, he stayed behind with the 800 men of the 3rd Battalion as the rest of the regiment retreated. During the battle, he braved enemy fire and rescued nearly 40 men…

…

When Father Kapaun’s commanders ordered evacuation, he chose to stay.
By all accounts, Father Kapaun refused to save his own skin, dodged bullets, and gave the last rites to as many dying soldiers as he could reach. He carried one man, whose leg had been shattered by shrapnel, in his arms to safety.
During the forced eighty-mile march to a prison camp in the freezing cold, Father Kapuan shored up flagging spirits and encouraged his men to help those too wounded to walk. [King]

Father Kapuan spent seven months as a POW.

Life in the prison camp was challenging, with sometimes up to 2 dozen men dying a day from malnutrition, disease, lice, and extreme cold. Kapaun refused to give in to despair and spent himself entirely for his men. He dug latrines, mediated disputes, gave away his food and raised morale among the prisoners. He was noted among his fellow POWs as one who would steal food for the men to eat. He also stood up to communist indoctrination, smuggled dysentery drugs to the doctor, Sidney Esensten, and led the men in prayer.

Nearly half the prisoners died that first winter, from cold, starvation, lice infestations. Given such conditions, Father Kapaun decided to pray to Saint Dismas, the good thief, and then would sneak extra rations for his men. He offered freezing prisoners his own clothes, bathed their wounds, exhorted them to keep going.
The guards ridiculed his faith. At night he slipped into huts to lead prisoners in prayer and administer the sacraments. “Just for a moment,” one said, “he could turn a mud hut into a cathedral.” [King]

Unfortunately, his own health failed. He came down with dysentery and pneumonia. He had a blood clot in one leg, and was malnourished. He led a forbidden Easter service on March 25, 1951 (“holding up a small crucifix he had fashioned from sticks”) but got progressively sicker.

He was so weak the prison guards took him to a place in the Pyoktong camp they called the “hospital,” where he died of malnutrition and pneumonia on May 23, 1951.

It is said that the “hospital” was really a “death house” and that the guards did not give him food or water.

He was posthumously awarded the Legion of Merit by the U.S. Army for exceptionally meritorious conduct as a prisoner of war, as well as the Purple Heart.

He had also been awarded the Distinguished Service Cross (for the rescue of those 40 men during the Battle of Unsan) but on April 11, 2013, that was upgraded to the Medal of Honor. His citation:

Chaplain Emil J. Kapaun, while assigned to Headquarters Company, 8th Cavalry Regiment, 1st Cavalry Division, distinguished himself by extraordinary heroism, patriotism, and selfless service between Nov. 1-2, 1950. During the Battle of Unsan, Kapaun was serving with the 3rd Battalion of the 8th Cavalry Regiment. As Chinese Communist forces encircled the battalion, Kapaun moved fearlessly from foxhole to foxhole under direct enemy fire in order to provide comfort and reassurance to the outnumbered Soldiers. He repeatedly exposed himself to enemy fire to recover wounded men, dragging them to safety. When he couldn’t drag them, he dug shallow trenches to shield them from enemy fire. As Chinese forces closed in, Kapaun rejected several chances to escape, instead volunteering to stay behind and care for the wounded. He was taken as a prisoner of war by Chinese forces on Nov. 2, 1950.
After he was captured, Kapaun and other prisoners were marched for several days northward toward prisoner-of-war camps. During the march Kapaun led by example in caring for injured Soldiers, refusing to take a break from carrying the stretchers of the wounded while encouraging others to do their part.
Once inside the dismal prison camps, Kapaun risked his life by sneaking around the camp after dark, foraging for food, caring for the sick, and encouraging his fellow Soldiers to sustain their faith and their humanity. On at least one occasion, he was brutally punished for his disobedience, being forced to sit outside in subzero weather without any garments. When the Chinese instituted a mandatory re-education program, Kapaun patiently and politely rejected every theory put forth by the instructors. Later, Kapaun openly flouted his captors by conducting a sunrise service on Easter morning, 1951.
When Kapaun began to suffer from the physical toll of his captivity, the Chinese transferred him to a filthy, unheated hospital where he died alone. As he was being carried to the hospital, he asked God’s forgiveness for his captors, and made his fellow prisoners promise to keep their faith. Chaplain Kapaun died in captivity on May 23, 1951.
Chaplain Emil J. Kapaun repeatedly risked his own life to save the lives of hundreds of fellow Americans. His extraordinary courage, faith and leadership inspired thousands of prisoners to survive hellish conditions, resist enemy indoctrination, and retain their faith in God and country. His actions reflect the utmost credit upon him, the 1st Cavalry Division, and the United States Army.

Father Kapaun’s remains were among a group of unidentified bodies that were returned to the US after the Korean Armistice Agreement. They were originally buried in the National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific in Hawaii, but as part of the ongoing efforts to identify unknown soldiers from the Korean War, they were disinterred. His remains were identified in March of this year, and on September 25, they were returned to his family. They are currently interred at Wichita’s Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception.

Pope John Paul II named Father Kapaun a Servant of God in 1993. From what I can tell, the case for Father Kapaun’s sainthood is currently under consideration by the Congregation for the Causes of Saints. There are several miracles attributed to him that are currently under investigation, and I can see a very strong case that he was a martyr.

He was one of twelve chaplains to die in Korea. Four U.S. Army chaplains were taken prisoner in 1950, all of whom died while in captivity.

Sources:

King, Heather. “‘Credible Witnesses: Servant of God Emil Kapaun.’” Magnificat, Nov. 2021.

“Medal of Honor Recipient Chaplain (Capt.) Emil J. Kapaun | the United States Army.” Www.army.mil, www.army.mil/medalofhonor/kapaun/. Accessed 7 Nov. 2021.

Wikipedia Contributors. “Emil Kapaun.” Wikipedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 2 May 2019, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emil_Kapaun. Accessed 20 June 2019.

(Previously. Previously. Previously.)

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Obit watch: August 5, 2021.

Thursday, August 5th, 2021

Col. Dave Severance (USMC – ret.) has passed away. He was 102.

The flag-raising atop Mount Suribachi on Feb. 23, 1945, captured by an Associated Press photographer, Joe Rosenthal, was taken when the battle for Iwo Jima was far from over. In the days that followed, Colonel Severance earned the Silver Star, the Marines’ third-highest decoration for valor after the Medal of Honor and the Navy Cross. The citation stated that in a firefight for a heavily defended ridge, he “skillfully directed the assault on this strong enemy position despite stubborn resistance.”
Colonel Severance, a captain at the time, commanded Easy Company of the 28th Marine Regiment, Fifth Marine Division — part of the 70,000-man Marine force that sought to seize Iwo Jima, 7.5 square miles of black volcanic sand about 660 miles south of Tokyo. The island, defended by 21,000 Japanese troops, held airstrips that were needed as bases for American fighter planes and as havens for crippled bombers returning to the Mariana Islands from missions over Japan.
Amid heavy casualties, the Marines by the fifth day of combat on Iwo Jima had silenced most opposition from Japanese soldiers dug into caves on Mount Suribachi, an extinct volcano 546 feet high at Iwo Jima’s southern tip.
In midmorning, a group of Marines from Easy Company raised a flag at the summit, a ceremony photographed by Sgt. Louis Lowery of the Marine magazine Leatherneck. When James Forrestal, the secretary of the Navy, who was on the beach below, saw the flag, he requested that it be kept as a memento. After it was returned to the beach, Colonel Severance sent another group of his Marines to bring a larger flag to the mountaintop.
It was the raising of the second flag that was portrayed in Mr. Rosenthal’s dramatic photograph.

…

He was commissioned as a lieutenant and first saw combat as a platoon commander in the 1943 battle for the Pacific island of Bougainville. His platoon was ambushed and cut off by Japanese troops about a mile behind enemy lines, but fought its way out of an encirclement and wiped out the enemy with the loss of only one Marine, according to the National WWII Museum in New Orleans.

…

After World War II, Colonel Severance completed flight training and flew fighter aircraft during the Korean War. He completed 69 missions and earned the Distinguished Flying Cross. He was promoted to colonel in 1962. At his retirement, in May 1968, he was assistant director of personnel at Marine headquarters.

…

Colonel Severance was portrayed by Neil McDonough as a Marine captain and by Harve Presnell as an older man in “Flags of Our Fathers” (2006), Clint Eastwood’s film about the six men who raised the flag at Iwo Jima. Colonel Severance was a consultant for the movie.

…

Asked how he would like to be remembered, he said, “I never thought about it,” then added, “Just that I was a Marine for 30 years and I never ended up in jail.”

Alvin Ing, actor. He was in the original Broadway production of Sondheim’s “Pacific Overtures” and the revival in 2004. He also appeared in the 2002 revival of “Flower Drum Song”.

He also did some movie and TV work, including “The Final Countdown” and the bad “Hawaii Five-0”.

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Historical note, suitable for use in schools.

Monday, May 31st, 2021

You know who was a Marine?

If you’re one of my readers who was a Marine, the answer is probably “Yes”. I figure the list of famous Marines is drilled into folks at boot camp.

But for everyone else: Don Adams.

I kid you not. Before he was “Maxwell Smart”, he served in the Marines during WWII. He fought (and was wounded) in the battle of Guadalcanal. He also came down with “blackwater fever”, and was medically evacuated to New Zealand, where he was hospitalized for over a year. After that, he served as a drill instructor until 1945.

As a side note, I went down a rabbit hole about “blackwater fever” a few months ago when I was reading White Hunters: The Golden Age of African Safaris (affiliate link). It also comes up in “The Bridge on the River Kwai“, which I did finally watch Saturday.

Blackwater fever is a complication of malaria. From what I’ve picked up, red blood cells burst and release hemoglobin, which enters the kidneys and can cause them to fail. I’ve seen suggestions that quinine either caused it, or was a contributing factor: now that we have other anti-malarial drugs, the incidence of blackwater fever has decreased.

A lot of those old-time African hunters came down with blackwater fever at one time or another: the folk remedy (which seems to have worked for many of them) was…massive consumption of champagne. I would think that would overload the kidneys and make things worse, but enough of those guys seem to have survived (the mortality rate is claimed to be 90%) that maybe there was something to it…?

Posted in Heroism, History, TV | 1 Comment »

Father Joseph Timothy O’Callahan.

Monday, May 31st, 2021

Father O’Callahan was a good Boston boy. Shortly after he graduated from high school in 1922, he signed up with the Jesuits.

He was ordained as a Jesuit priest in 1934. Along the way, he picked up a BA and a MA from St. Andrew’s College, “specializing in mathematics and physics”. He was a professor of math, physics, and philosophy at Boston College for 10 years (1927-1937), then he went over to Weston Jesuit School of Theology for a year. From 1938 to 1940 he served as the director of the math department at the College of the Holy Cross.

When World War II began, O’Callahan was 36 and nearsighted, with a bad case of claustrophobia and high blood pressure—an unlikely candidate for military service, much less for heroic valor.

He enlisted in the United States Navy Reserve Chaplain Corps in August of 1940 as a lieutenant junior grade. But I gather he was pretty good at his job: by July of 1945 he had reached the rank of commander. He participated in Operation Torch and Operation Leader.

On March 2, 1945, Commander O’Callahan reported to the aircraft carrier USS Franklin.

On March 19, 1945, the Franklin was hit by two bombs from a Japanese aircraft. The bombs started a massive fire on the carrier deck.

A valiant and forceful leader, calmly braving the perilous barriers of flame and twisted metal to aid his men and his ship, Lt. Comdr. O’Callahan groped his way through smoke-filled corridors to the open flight deck and into the midst of violently exploding bombs, shells, rockets, and other armament. With the ship rocked by incessant explosions, with debris and fragments raining down and fires raging in ever-increasing fury, he ministered to the wounded and dying, comforting and encouraging men of all faiths; he organized and led firefighting crews into the blazing inferno on the flight deck; he directed the jettisoning of live ammunition and the flooding of the magazine; he manned a hose to cool hot, armed bombs rolling dangerously on the listing deck, continuing his efforts, despite searing, suffocating smoke which forced men to fall back gasping and imperiled others who replaced them. Serving with courage, fortitude, and deep spiritual strength, Lt. Comdr. O’Callahan inspired the gallant officers and men of the Franklin to fight heroically and with profound faith in the face of almost certain death and to return their stricken ship to port.

While leading the men through this inferno, he gave the Sacrament of Last Rites to the men dying around him, all while battling his claustrophobia.

Official Navy casualty figures for the 19 March 1945 fire totaled 724 killed and 265 wounded. Nevertheless, casualty numbers have been updated as new records are discovered. A recent count by Franklin historian and researcher Joseph A. Springer brings total 19 March 1945 casualty figures to 807 killed and more than 487 wounded. Franklin had suffered the most severe damage and highest casualties experienced by any U.S. fleet carrier that survived World War II.

There is a short documentary, “The Saga of the Franklin“, that you can find on the Internet Archive.

Commander O’Callahan was offered the Navy Cross, but refused it. There is speculation that his refusal had to do with “his heroic actions on USS Franklin highlighted perceived lapses in leadership by the ship’s commanding officer, Captain Leslie E. Gehres, which reflected poorly on the Navy”. Wikipedia claims there was a controversy at the time, Harry Truman stepped in…

…and Commander O’Callahan was awarded the Medal of Honor on January 23, 1946. (Another officer, Lieutenant junior grade Donald Arthur Gary, also received the Medal of Honor for his actions: “Lieutenant Gary discovered 300 men trapped in a blackened mess compartment and, finding an exit, returned repeatedly to lead groups to safety. Gary later organized and led firefighting parties to battle the inferno on the hangar deck and entered number three fireroom to raise steam in one boiler, braving extreme hazards in so doing.“)

Father O’Callahan retired from the Navy in 1948 and headed the math department at The College of the Holy Cross. He also wrote a book, I Was Chaplain on the Franklin (affiliate link).

He died in 1964 at the age of 58, and is buried in the Jesuit cemetery at The College of the Holy Cross. The destroyer USS O’Callahan was named after him.

One of Father O’Callahan’s students at Holy Cross before the war was John V. Power, who also received the Medal of Honor (posthumously).

A few months later, when awards were presented on the battered flight deck of the USS Franklin, O’Callahan’s mother came aboard the ship, and The New England Historical Society reports this telling conversation:

The ship’s captain, Les Gehres, went over to his mother and said, “I’m not a religious man. But I watched your son that day and I thought if faith can do this for man, there must be something to it. Your son is the bravest man I have ever seen.”

(Previously. Previously.)

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“What you gonna do when you get out of jail?…” part 163

Wednesday, September 9th, 2020

I think this is the first time I’ve done an entire daily entry devoted to a single person.

“Leadership Lessons from Gen. James Mattis (Ret.)”.

Bonus #1: the general’s speech to the OSS Society on receiving the 2019 William J. Donovan Award.

Bonus #2: General Mattis speaking at commencement for Central Washington University in 2011.

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