Audie Murphy: The Greatest Hero of World War II

Audie Murphy, in “To Hell and Back.” (Universal Pictures).

Commentary

Perhaps it’s ironic or contradictory, but true heroes are rarely boastful, even though, by definition, they have reason enough to brag. They are usually humble, making them all the more human and endearing.

The centennial of the birth of America’s greatest hero of World War II is almost upon us. He was born in rural Hunt County, an hour northeast of Dallas, on June 20, 1925. His name, Audie Murphy, should never be forgotten.

“I’m just a friendly sort of scrawny, freckled-face kid from Texas, so how can anyone honestly expect me to maintain an air of superiority and romantic mystery?” he once said.

Murphy’s upbringing was hardscrabble, which was common for poor, Depression-era folks in that part of the country. His aloof father abandoned the family when the boy was just 15, and then his beloved mother died shortly thereafter. Audie quit school in the fifth grade to pick cotton and support his 11 brothers and sisters. In his spare time, he honed his skills with a rifle to put meat on the table. Before long, however, his siblings ended up in orphanages or the homes of relatives.

After the United States entered World War II in December 1941, Audie itched to serve, but at a mere five-foot-five and 110 pounds, he was turned away by the Army, Navy, and Marines. He was a year too young as well. In 1942, he falsified his birth certificate by a year to indicate that he was 18, reapplied to the Army, and this time was accepted.

A portrait of First Lt. Audie Murphy, circa 1945. 
Pictorial Parade/Staff/Archive Photos/Getty Images

Pacifists may not start wars, but they don’t win them either. For that, we need the Audie Murphys of the world. While in service in Tunisia, Sicily, Italy, France, and Germany, he repeatedly demonstrated extraordinary courage under fire—so many times, and even while wounded, that he received every combat award for valor that the U.S. government bestows, including the Purple Heart, the Medal of Honor, the Distinguished Service Cross, and the Silver and Bronze stars. Belgium and France gave him their highest honors as well.

Murphy was credited with taking out more than 240 enemy soldiers and saving the lives of far more on the Allied side. Many who knew him and who saw him brave direct fire thought the super-human little guy was either blessed or possessed. He was a one-man war machine. Murphy later recounted his escapades in a popular autobiography, “To Hell and Back,” and then starred as himself in the even more popular film version.

Throughout the war and a successful film career afterward, Murphy remained a humble man. David A. Smith, in his 2015 biography of Murphy, “The Price of Valor,“ wrote that Murphy ”preferred to deflect attention from himself and deny that he was courageous—let alone a hero—partly because of his natural humility, but also because he understood that his courage was not something he consciously chose to do; it was nothing more than a natural reaction that did not seem overly praiseworthy to him and never would.”

Murphy didn’t kill enemy soldiers because he enjoyed it. He saw it as his duty in situations that required it. To the end of his life, he suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder and urged public and private entities to recognize it and treat its victims accordingly. He broke down in tears whenever he thought about the children of the men whose lives he took in war.

Audie Murphy was a patriot who loved the country, for which he put everything on the line.

“The true meaning of America, you ask? It’s in a Texas rodeo, in a policeman’s badge, in the sound of laughing children, in a political rally, in a newspaper,” he said.

“In all these things, and many more, you’ll find America. In all these things, you’ll find freedom. And freedom is what America means to the world. And to me.”

America’s most decorated soldier of World War II, Murphy died in a plane crash in Virginia in 1971 at the age of 45. When I recently visited the Audie Murphy Museum in Greenville, Texas, I shed more than a few tears for this great American. He was the best.

Views expressed in this article are opinions of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of The Epoch Times.