The best definition of ‘valor’ I have come across is ‘strength of mind in regard to danger, that quality which enables a man to encounter danger with firmness and courage.’ Reading of vice-presidential nominee Tim Walz and his stolen valor made me think of my father’s service during WWII and, to a lesser extent, my own some thirty years later.
My dad, like a great number of young men, was drafted into the military in early 1942. Was spending the next three and a half years in the jungles of the Pacific fighting the Japanese the way he would have preferred to spend that time? I believe the answer is a firm no. He had just become engaged to my mother, and I’m sure marriage and settling down to raise a family were his top priorities. But life and duty to the nation got in the way. Shirking that duty was not something Dad would have ever considered. So he went to far-off places like Kiska, Attu, and Kwajalein as a member of the Seventh Infantry Division and fought for the duration of the war.
Dad spent much of his service time as a medic, manning a two-man stretcher to carry the wounded from battle. One day, three men on the other end of the stretcher were wounded, one severely. Dad received minor shrapnel wounds at least twice during battle, but unlike individuals such as John Kerry in the Vietnam War, he declined the Purple Hearts he had earned. He claimed he didn’t believe he deserved that form of recognition after seeing so many men killed and severely wounded. He wanted no part of what he saw as mere bragging. He graciously accepted a Bronze Star award for his service. He did tell me that when he discovered that the rotation from the battle zone to return home at the end of the war was based on a points system and that Purple Hearts carried a lot of points, he wished he had taken those medals. That comment was based on love for my mother, not on wanting to steal any valor for himself. That love ultimately produced eight children, of whom I am the oldest.
As I grew to adulthood, I often wondered how I might have acted in the situations my father had endured. Would I have been John Wayne, bravely battling onscreen enemies as only the Duke could do, or would I be Wally Cox — Mr. Peepers — a milquetoast television character of questionable courage. I got a chance to find out.
USMC – Marine Corps Archives
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