Tink and I were at lunch recently with a friend who began talking about his grandfather’s bravery and the medals he earned during World War II.
When the war began, his grandfather was initially deferred because he was in college. A few months later, he was drafted. Once in service, he requested pilot training and, after earning his wings, asked to be assigned to the war's most dangerous theater. That meant the South Pacific, where Imperial Japan’s Zero pilots had earned a fearsome reputation. They considered it an honor to die for their country—and they fought that way.
His grandfather was shot down once but survived and returned to the skies. He was shot down again after managing to down two Zeroes of his own.
After bailing out, he opened his parachute and drifted through enemy fire as Zero pilots tried—and failed—to hit him. He landed deep in the jungle.
Thirty-two days later, he emerged, weak and battered, dragging what remained of his parachute behind him. He had been burned over more than 80 percent of his body.
“My grandfather was the toughest man I ever knew,” our friend said.
Yes, he was.
His name was Tom Harmon, the University of Michigan halfback who won the Heisman Trophy in 1940, led the nation in scoring, and collected nearly every honor the game had to offer.
After the war, he returned home and married one of Hollywood’s most admired starlets, Elyse Knox. Her wedding dress was fashioned from the white silk of his parachute.
Harmon went on to play professional football and became a respected broadcaster.
He also passed that same grit on to his son. As a junior college quarterback, the younger Harmon was offered scholarships from several programs, including Oklahoma, then ranked No. 2 in the nation. Instead, he chose UCLA, a program that had won only two games the year before. The Harmon men, it seems, preferred a challenge.
In his first game, he helped lead UCLA to a stunning upset of defending national champion Nebraska. Over two seasons under coach Pepper Rodgers, UCLA finished 17–5.
Tink is close friends with Harmon’s son. When he learned Tink had married a Southerner and moved to the South, he was fully supportive.
“When I graduated from college,” he once said, “the only job offer I got was from Pepper Rodgers to join his staff at Georgia Tech. I thought about it—but I turned it down.”
That decision ultimately led him elsewhere, and Mark Harmon went on to become one of television’s biggest stars, known for NCIS. He and Tink later formed a close friendship while both worked on St. Elsewhere and later Chicago Hope.
A few months ago, I was searching through a cigar box that Mama kept her important papers in. (Where she got a cigar box, I’ll never know, but it served as her personal safe-deposit box, tucked away in the top drawer of her chifforobe.) Inside were the expected keepsakes: a note showing the mortgage had been paid off, her father’s obituary, and a photograph of her with her sister, Ozelle.
I also found Daddy’s discharge papers from his World War II service. Since he had volunteered, he was able to choose his branch, and without hesitation, he chose the Navy. He had always been fascinated by ships and the sea, having worked in the Newport News shipyard in Virginia before the war.
I carefully unfolded the fragile document: Honorable Discharge. That much I expected.
But further down the page, I saw something I had never known.
Daddy had been awarded five medals.
Neither my sister nor I had ever heard that before.
“Where do you suppose they are?” she asked.
I guess that wartime record-keeping was overwhelmed by the sheer number of honors being awarded, and some were never properly distributed. But men like my daddy—and like Tom Harmon—didn’t fight for medals.
They fought for their country.
Ronda Rich is the best-selling author of the Stella Bankwell series.
Visit www.rondarich.com to sign up for her free newsletter.