“Homecoming Marine (The War Hero)” by Norman Rockwell (1945)

Homecoming soldiers were a popular subject for illustrators in 1945. But for this end-of-war cover, Rockwell took an unusual approach to capturing a Veteran’s welcome home.

A traditional cover would have shown a G.I. standing tall and proud among civilian admirers, and Rockwell had produced a cover like that after the last war. It showed a tough, confident doughboy surrounded by adoring younger boys. But at the end of this world war, he gives us a slim, young Marine sitting on a box. As if to emphasize his youth, he is seated beside a little boy who is mimicking his pose.

The newspaper on the wall gives us his back story: The mechanic who’d enlisted for the war has now returned a hero, probably from the Asian theater, judging by the flag he is holding. But, instead of recounting tales of glory, he is looking up with a thoughtful, almost troubled expression at the boy who has just asked him a question.

Rockwell was a master at conveying the subtleties of human expression, and it’s clear his intention wasn’t merely to show a hometown boy back in familiar surroundings, but also to capture the newly returned Veteran’s feeling of isolation — knowing he can never adequately convey to the folks at home the things he experienced in the war.

The Giant Killer
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God Bless this Hero!

Private Cleto Rodriguez brazenly attacked an enemy fortress to save his platoon during the Battle of Manila, heroics for which he received the nation’s highest military honor the Medal of Honor:

On February 9, 1945, 21-year-old US Army Private Cleto L. Rodriguez rushed across smoking rubble and into withering Japanese gunfire on the island of Luzon in the Philippines.

For nearly a week, he and his fellow soldiers from Company B, 2nd Battalion, 148th Infantry Regiment of the 37th Infantry Division battled to liberate the capital city from a determined enemy.

The American advance had pushed the Japanese back to the Paco District’s once-elegant railway station, situated on the broad Plaza Dilao.

Three companies of die-hard Japanese marines were busily fortifying the building.

Nearly invisible entrenched fighting positions dotted the area.

Sandbag-lined pillboxes and bunkers protected well-armed and equipped defenders.

Rodriguez’s platoon launched a frontal assault against the station across the wide expanse, but enemy fire pinned them down 100 yards from the building.

Rodriguez developed a plan to save his platoon with Private First Class John N. Reese, Jr., a fellow 21-year-old automatic rifleman and full-blooded Cherokee from Pryor, Oklahoma.

Living up to the words on their regimental patch, “WE’LL DO IT,” the two grabbed as many grenades and magazines for their Browning Automatic Rifles as they could carry and ran through enemy fire toward the train station.

Even in urban combat where dangers multiply, Rodriguez was not panicked.

“I have never known fear,” he later claimed.

At a young age he had become acquainted with hardship.

Born in San Marcos, Texas in 1923, he lost his parents at only nine years old.

Selling newspapers to support his family, he often slept in the San Antonio Express’s building so he could wake up early enough to deliver the papers before school.

Rodriguez dropped out before graduating and joined a gang, leading to an aggressiveness that served him well after volunteering for the Army in March 1943 and joining the “Buckeye Division.”

Up against 300 enemy troops, the two Americans fired and maneuvered as a disciplined team.

Clearing hostile positions as they went, the pair of BAR men patiently pushed to within 20 yards of the station’s main entrance.

Without regard for his safety, Private Rodriguez destroyed a 20mm gun and machine gun from close range.

After two-and-a-half hours, the two were out of grenades and had nearly burned through all their ammunition.

With the help of Reese’s suppressive fire, Rodriguez made it back safely to friendly lines.

The Oklahoman, however, fell to a sniper’s bullet while reloading.

Both soldiers displayed exceptional bravery, resulting in 82 enemy troops killed.

With the platoon from Company B no longer caught in a deadly position, the American advance continued.

Rodriguez once again took the initiative only two days later, single-handedly killing six enemy soldiers and destroying a 20mm gun.

President Harry S. Truman presented newly promoted Technical Sergeant Rodriguez with the Congressional Medal of Honor, the first Mexican American in the Pacific theater of operations to receive the nation’s highest military award.

One of the most decorated soldiers in the PTO, Rodriguez also received the Silver Star, Bronze Star, Purple Heart, and numerous other awards.

For his bravery on February 9, Private Reese received the Medal of Honor posthumously.

After the war, Technical Sergeant Rodriguez returned to San Antonio to a hero’s welcome.

He left the Army in December 1945 and worked for the Veterans Administration, where he began a lifelong commitment to help fellow Hispanic Americans receive continuing education and skills training.

In 1952, Rodriguez rejoined the service, initially with the US Air Force before transferring to the Army, retiring in 1970 as a master sergeant.

On December 7, 1990, Rodriguez died at 67 years old.

He is buried at Fort Sam Houston National Cemetery in San Antonio, the final resting place of eleven other Medal of Honor recipients, six of whom are fellow WWII veterans.

MEDAL OF HONOR CITATION:
“The President of the United States of America, in the name of Congress, takes pleasure in presenting the Medal of Honor to Technical Sergeant Cleto L. Rodriguez, United States Army, for conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity in action above and beyond the call of duty on 9 February 1945, while serving with Company B, 148th Infantry Regiment, 37th Infantry Division.

Technical Sergeant Rodriguez was an automatic rifleman when his unit attacked the strongly defended Paco Railroad Station during the battle for Manila, Philippine Islands.

While making a frontal assault across an open field, his platoon was halted 100 yards from the station by intense enemy fire.

On his own initiative, he left the platoon, accompanied by a comrade, and continued forward to a house 60 yards from the objective.

Although under constant enemy observation, the two men remained in this position for an hour, firing at targets of opportunity, killing more than 35 hostile soldiers and wounding many more.

Moving closer to the station and discovering a group of Japanese replacements attempting to reach pillboxes, they opened heavy fire, killed more than 40 and stopped all subsequent attempts to man the emplacements.

Enemy fire became more intense as they advanced to within 20 yards of the station.

Then, covered by his companion, Private Rodriguez boldly moved up to the building and threw five grenades through a doorway killing 7 Japanese, destroying a 20-mm gun and wrecking a heavy machinegun.

With their ammunition running low, the two men started to return to the American lines, alternately providing covering fire for each other's withdrawal.

During this movement, Private Rodriguez' companion was killed.

In 2 1/2 hours of fierce fighting the intrepid team killed more than 82 Japanese, completely disorganized their defense, and paved the way for the subsequent overwhelming defeat of the enemy at this strongpoint.

Two days later, Private Rodriguez again enabled his comrades to advance when he single-handedly killed six Japanese and destroyed a well-placed 20-mm gun by his outstanding skill with his weapons, gallant determination to destroy the enemy, and heroic courage in the face of tremendous odds, Private Rodriguez, on two occasions, materially aided the advance of our troops in Manila.”

Photo of President Harry S. Truman presents Cleto Rodriguez with the Medal of Honor on the White House Lawn on October 12, 1945. Signal Corps photograph.

The Giant Killer book & page honors these war heroes the book details the incredible life of the smallest soldier, Green Beret Captain Richard Flaherty along with the harrowing stories from the men of the 101st Airborne in Vietnam.

The Giant Killer FB page honors these incredible war heroes making sure their stories of valor and sacrifice are never forgotten.

God Bless our Vets!

via: Historia Obscurum
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In February of 1945, Earl Shaffer's best friend was killed on Iwo Jima.

Earl Shaffer (pictured) and Walter Winemiller had been hiking buddies back home in Pennsylvania before the war, and together had dreamed of doing the impossible...

The more than 2,100-mile-long Appalachian Trail had been finished not long before the outbreak of the Second World War, and no one believed it was possible to hike its entire length.

Shaffer and Winemiller decided that they wanted to be the first, but the war interrupted their plans.

Earl entered the U.S. Army in 1941, and worked on radar systems throughout the Pacific Theater. He survived, but his friend did not, dying on Iwo Jima in 1945.

After his discharge, Earl felt aimless and restless, and in 1948 decided to make good on his and Walter's dream.

Starting in Georgia, Earl began walking north along the trail. He took very few supplies with him, and even hiked without socks sometimes.

Earl wrote that he took to the trail to "walk the war out of my system", and as the miles wore on, he began to find the peace that had eluded him since the war's end.

As he closed in on the northern terminus of the trail in Maine, he paused and wrote in his journal, "In very good spirits. Thinking of Walter."

It took Earl Shaffer 124 days to complete the entire Appalachian Trail, but, still believing it to be impossible, few people believed he'd actually done it.

It was only after a fierce grilling from officials of the Appalachian Trail Conference that his accomplishment was recognized officially, and Earl became famous as the first person ever to walk the complete length of the Appalachian Trail.

In 1965, Earl hit the trail again, this time hiking north to south from Maine to Georgia in 99 days.

Then in 1998, fifty years after his initial thru-hike, Earl completed the full trail again at the age of 79.

Earl Shaffer died of cancer in 2002, but his personal odyssey continues to inspire countless Veterans who, like him, turn in greater and greater numbers each year to America's wild trails, forests, and mountains to find peace and purpose, and to walk off their own wars.