Veteran Eager to Wear War Wounds Like a Crown
According to a Column One story the other day by Bob Pool, thousands of World War II veterans are belatedly claiming medals and service ribbons they earned but never received.
When they were discharged these veterans didn’t care about honors; they were eager to get back into civilian life, get jobs, start families. But now, in retirement, they think back proudly on their exploits and want medals to show their grandchildren.
I did nothing heroic in the war, and I hope my claims for decorations, which may seem frivolous to those who were not there, will not be taken as debasing the claims of the truly valorous.
Still, I have five grandchildren who not only don’t know what I did in the war, but who may hardly be aware that the war occurred. So much history has passed under the bridge since then.
As I remember, I received no medals and only three ribbons when I was discharged from the Marine Corps in 1946. I believe they were the American Defense ribbon, Asiatic Pacific Campaign ribbon (with one battle star) and the Victory ribbon, all of which I earned simply by being present.
Also, however, I do believe I am entitled to a Purple Heart (traditionally awarded for a wound suffered as a result of enemy action) and the Good Conduct Medal.
To take up the Good Conduct Medal first, I believe my conduct was exemplary throughout my period of service, except, ironically, in the incident for which I believe I should receive the Purple Heart.
That occurred not on the battlefield but at the Moana Hotel in Honolulu after my regiment returned from the Battle of Iwo Jima. The Moana at that time was reserved as a rest and recreation center for naval officers. One of my enlisted friends knew a naval officer who invited several of us to his room for a celebration of our victory. (I believe I have told this story before, but not in the detail that may be required for me to receive a medal.)
There was nothing to drink but gin, and in our conflicting emotions--euphoric over our survival, grieving for our lost friends--we drank a great deal of it.
Late in the evening, after the hotel had been secured for the night, I looked out the second story window and saw Waikiki shimmering in the moonlight. I decided to go for a swim. I skinned down to my green underwear, went out the window and tried to climb down the stone face of the building.
I lost my grip and fell. My feet hit in sand. My chin went down and hit my knee, opening a 1-inch gash and shattering a wisdom tooth.
My comrades were crowded in the window, cheering me on. I rose unsteadily to my feet. Pain seared through my lower back. Blood dripped down on my T-shirt. I staggered out into the surf, was submerged, and crawled out dripping. My friends diverted the Shore Patrolman guarding the front door while I hobbled around the building and through the lobby and into the elevator.
The next day--hurting all over--I went to an Army medic at nearby Ft. De Russey and had my chin sewn up. Later I went to a Navy dentist and had my broken tooth pulled. When I was discharged, I told the Navy medics about my back. X-rays showed that I had two broken vertebrae. However, they said the fractures had healed and no permanent disability should be expected.
There went my pension. I told the medic how I had received the injuries and suggested that I deserved the Purple Heart. He declined to endorse my application, arguing that my injuries were not caused by enemy action.
Of course that is illogical. If the Japanese hadn’t bombed Pearl Harbor, I would never have climbed out that window. There is no point in searching my records, however, because I made no formal application.
On the other hand, an officer nominated me for a Bronze Star, which is awarded for bravery in combat, but Gen. H. M. (Howling Mad) Smith denied it. Instead, he wrote me a nice letter of commendation, which I have misplaced. The word was that the general had decided to give the Bronze Star only for specific acts of heroism.
OK. But I do think I deserve the Good Conduct Medal.