Author: user

Navy Cmdr. George Fleming Davis worked his way up the ranks to become one of the youngest destroyer commanders in U.S. history. During World War II, his leadership and fearlessness during a Japanese kamikaze raid kept his ship from being destroyed, even though it cost him his life. For that sacrifice, Davis earned a posthumous Medal of Honor.

Davis was born on March 23, 1911, in the Philippine capital of Manila, where his father, John, worked as a civilian master shipfitter at Naval Base Subic Bay. After a few years, the family moved to Hawaii so his father could continue his work at Pearl Harbor.

Davis was privately educated at Punahou School before graduating from McKinley High School in Honolulu. In 1930, he received an appointment to attend the Naval Academy, where he excelled in several sports. Davis graduated in May 1934 and commissioned into the Navy, serving his first tour of duty on the heavy cruiser USS Tuscaloosa as an aircraft gunnery observer.

By mid-1941, Davis had worked his way up to the rank of lieutenant and was assigned to the battleship USS Oklahoma, which was sunk by the Japanese during the Pearl Harbor attacks on Dec. 7, 1941.

Davis survived the attack and was transferred to duty on the light cruiser USS Honolulu. During his tenure on that ship, he took part in operations on the Aleutian Islands before being involved in hard-fought battles in Guadalcanal, the Central Solomon Islands and the campaign to recover Guam.

By the time Davis left the USS Honolulu in mid-1944, he’d been promoted to commander. He spent a few months training in advanced surface warfare techniques before being put in command of the destroyer USS Walke in late November 1944. At 32, he was one of the youngest destroyer commanders in U.S. naval history.

At some point, Davis married a woman named Shelagh, and they had two boys, George Rupert and Patrick, who lived in Berkeley, California, during the war.

In mid-December 1944, Davis returned to the Philippines as the USS Walke was stationed off Manila’s shores. By early January, the destroyer got underway for Lingayen Gulf as part of the invasion of Luzon, joining several U.S. minesweepers to provide cover fire and antiaircraft defense.

On Jan. 6, 1945, the Walke was operating without gun support from other surface ships when four Japanese suicide planes were spotted flying low overland, on a clear mission to attack. Preparing for an onslaught, Davis took his position on the bridge’s exposed wing and directed the ship to open fire on the lead plane, which crashed into the water. The ship’s guns then hit the second aircraft as it passed closely over the bridge, plunging it into the sea off the portside.

Davis stayed steadfast in his position even as the third aircraft quickly dove toward the ship, crashing into the after end of the bridge. The collision seriously wounded the commander and drenched him in gasoline as flames erupted. But Davis continued to direct the steering of the ship. According to his Medal of Honor citation, Davis “rallied his command to heroic efforts; he exhorted his officers and men to save the ship and, still on his feet, saw the barrage from his guns destroy the fourth suicide bomber.”

Davis refused to accept medical attention below deck until the fires were under control and the 350 members of his crew were counted as safe. Sadly, Davis died hours later. According to a 1945 San Francisco Examiner article, the Walke’s surgeon said that the commander might have survived his burns had he not “overtaxed himself in saving the ship.”

Davis’s fearlessness and valor inspired the men around him to complete their vital mission. His bravery and self-sacrifice earned him the nation’s highest honor for valor. Davis’s widow received the Medal of Honor on his behalf on Nov. 16, 1945, during a ceremony in Washington, D.C.

Davis was buried at sea in the Philippines, not far from the place where he was born. His name is listed on the Manila American Cemetery’s Wall of the Missing.

The USS Davis, a destroyer commissioned in 1957, was named in his honor and served with distinction during the Vietnam War. In the Naval Academy room where Davis once resided, a bronze plaque bears his citation for all future sailors to see. 

This article is part of a weekly series called “Medal of Honor Monday” in which we highlight one of the more than 3,500 Medal of Honor recipients who have received the U.S. military’s highest medal for valor.

Casualties

Just over 2,400 Americans died in the attack – 2,008 Navy personnel, 109 Marines, 218 Army personnel (including the Army Air Forces, the Air Force’s predecessor), and 68 civilians. Another 1,178 were wounded.

Nearly half of the deaths came from the battleship USS Arizona, which sank after suffering a massive explosion from a bomb that penetrated the vessel’s deck and ignited its forward ammunition magazine. It was one of three ships destroyed in the attack, along with the battleship USS Oklahoma, where 429 men died, and the USS Utah, with a death toll of 58.

Numerous other ships, including six additional battleships, were damaged or sunk. Some 188 military aircraft were destroyed; 159 were damaged.

While devastating, the attack was not a total success. Repair crews were able to return 18 ships to service; none of Pearl Harbor’s aircraft carriers were present during the attack; and Americans, previously divided over the question of U.S. involvement in the war, rallied together to commit to victory.

The Space Force structure is unique. While it is a separate and distinct branch of the armed services, it is organized under the Department of the Air Force. Its mission is to secure our Nation’s interests in, from and to space.

Lima Liftoff

An Army UH-60M Black Hawk helicopter takes off after extracting Peruvian air force special operators during a training mission as part of Resolute Sentinel 2024 in Lima, Peru, June 11, 2024. Resolute Sentinel is a multinational training exercise that aims to enhance regional security and interoperability among forces from Peru, Colombia, Ecuador, Chile, Brazil, France and the United States.

Credit: Air Force Senior Airman Courtney Sebastianelli

VIRIN: 240611-F-NU502-2081Y

Army Col. Charles Patrick Murray Jr. spent three decades serving his country, but his most notable contribution came toward the beginning of his career. During the waning days of World War II in Europe, Murray took out dozens of enemy soldiers while trying to establish a position for his platoon along a French valley. He received the Medal of Honor for his fearless actions and leadership.

Murray was born Sept. 26, 1921, in Baltimore, Maryland, to Charles and Florence Murray. He had two younger brothers, William and Donald, and he went by the nickname Chuck.

When Murray was still a baby, his parents moved to Wilmington, North Carolina. He was a member of the Boy Scouts as a child and achieved the prestigious rank of Eagle Scout in 1934.

After Murray graduated from Wilmington’s New Hanover High School in 1938, he spent three years studying at the University of North Carolina before being drafted into the Army in September 1942. After a few months of training, he was sent to officer candidate school and was commissioned as a second lieutenant in 1943.

In August 1944, Murray was deployed to England to join the 3rd Infantry Division’s 1st Battalion, 30th Infantry Regiment. A few weeks after D-Day, the division landed in France and started their push east.

By December, Murray’s unit, Company C, had been tasked with securing a hill in Kaysersberg, France. During several days of fighting, the company was able to secure the hill, but several company officers were killed, allowing Murray to move up in the ranks to become company commander.

On Dec. 16, 1944, then-1st Lt. Murray accompanied one of his three platoons on a special mission into enemy territory to keep the Germans from getting in and out of a valley near the hill. In order to do so, they had to descend into the valley along a narrow trail.

During their descent, Murray saw about 200 Germans who were pouring deadly mortar, bazooka and machine gun fire into an American battalion on the crest of a ridge. The men on the ridge couldn’t see the enemy, which was hiding in a position on a sunken road, but Murray could see the enemy’s flank. He didn’t want to risk the lives of his small platoon against such a large force, so instead of engaging, he told his platoon to take cover.

Murray then crawled ahead of his troops to a small vantage point where he could see the enemy before radioing for artillery to bombard them, he said in a Library of Congress Veterans History Project interview. However, his coordinates were a bit off, and the artillery missed. When he went to adjust the range, his radio went dead.

Needing to adjust his options, Murray went back to where his platoon was waiting and grabbed some grenades and a launcher. He returned to where he could see the enemy and fired. The first few shots disclosed his position, so enemy troops aimed all their fire at him as he continued pummeling them with grenades until he ran out of ammunition.

Murray then went back to his platoon’s makeshift outpost, this time grabbing an automatic rifle and ammunition. He once more moved to his exposed position, firing burst after burst at the enemy. One account of the fight said that Murray fired about 2,000 rounds, with the help of two other soldiers who continued to toss him ammunition. He was also able to take out a truck that he later learned was carrying three German mortars.

Murray’s effort killed 20 enemy soldiers and wounded several others. When a U.S. mortar was brought in to help, he directed that fire, leading to about 50 more enemy casualties. The bombardment led to chaos in the enemy’s ranks, and they began to withdraw via a creek.

Calling on his platoon to follow, Murray raced down the small trail into the valley so he could take control of a bridge there and construct a roadblock. Along the way, Murray captured 10 Germans in foxholes. An eleventh pretended to surrender, but threw a grenade when Murray looked away for a second. Murray and several others were injured in the blast.

Instead of allowing his troops to fire on that enemy soldier, Murray took the man hostage. Bleeding profusely by then, Murray kept moving forward until he’d found the right spot for his men to set up the roadblock. Finally, he turned command of the company over to this executive officer before walking back up the steep hill to an aid station. His single-handed attack stopped the enemy in its tracks and enabled his unit to take the valley despite formidable odds.

Murray was hospitalized until after Christmas, when he grew anxious to get back to his troops.

“I found that the wounded troops recovering were being sent to units up north to replace soldiers that had been wounded or captured in the [Battle of the] Bulge area,” he told the VHP. “I didn’t want to go to some unit up north. I wanted to go back to my division.”

So, Murray found a uniform that fit him and hitched a ride on an ambulance to where the 3rd ID was based. He then caught a ride on a ration truck to the 30th Infantry’s aid station before walking toward the hill where he’d last left his men.

“I was a little concerned because there were Germans in the area and I had no pistol,” Murray said. After a while, a Jeep came by and gave him a ride to the battalion command post. He then made his way back to his company’s position, which they held until replacements took over on New Year’s Day 1945.

Murray continued to command Company C for the rest of the war. They became the first Allied unit to enter Munich on April 30, 1945, and continued to push on into Salzburg, Austria, on May 5, two days before fighting ended in Europe.

Murray said he’d learned that February that he had been recommended for the Medal of Honor, but he didn’t think it was going to happen because he was never sent to the rear of his division, which was tradition for Medal of Honor nominees during the war to keep them safe. The young lieutenant said he didn’t know the award was actually going to happen until his wife, Anne, sent him a newspaper clipping that mentioned the medal in June.

During a ceremony at the Salzburg airport on July 5, 1945, Murray received the nation’s highest honor for valor from Army Lt. Gen. Geoffrey Keyes, II Corps’ commanding general.

When Murray returned home after the war, he took some time to finishing his studies at UNC, earning a bachelor’s degree in June of 1946. That September, he returned to active duty. At some point, he also received a master’s degree in international affairs from George Washington University. He and his wife went on to have three children, Charles III, Brian and Cynthia.

Murray made a career out of the Army, serving in various command posts over the following decades, including during the Vietnam War — a war in which both of his sons also served. He retired as a colonel in 1973 after 30 years of service.

His family settled down in Columbia, South Carolina, where Murray then worked for a decade as a senior planner for the state’s Corrections Department. He was known as a humble man who, in his later years, worked tirelessly to promote veterans’ issues and educate students about service to their country.

Murray died peacefully at his home on Aug. 12, 2011, after suffering from congestive heart failure, his family said. He was weeks away from his 90th birthday. The retired colonel is buried in Arlington National Cemetery.

In Murray’s honor, two schools were named for him — a middle school in Wilmington and an elementary school at Fort Stewart, Georgia.  

This article is part of a weekly series called “Medal of Honor Monday” in which we highlight one of the more than 3,500 Medal of Honor recipients who have received the U.S. military’s highest medal for valor.

Dentistry isn’t the first thing that pops into one’s mind when it comes to sailor and submariner readiness. But having to be taken via medevac off a vessel in the far-flung Pacific Ocean because of an abscessed tooth wouldn’t be the best way for a sailor to get on their commander’s good side. 

The Navy’s Dental Corps is made up of about 1,300 active-duty and reserve dentists who are experts in 15 specialties. Their work is necessary to ensure sailors can spend months at a time on deployment without having overt issues that might temporarily derail a mission. 

Nowhere is that more evident than at Naval Hospital Bremerton, Washington, and its three health clinics, where personnel delivered dental care to over 12,300 active-duty beneficiaries in 2023, including soldiers and airmen from Joint Base Lewis-McChord in Tacoma, Washington.  

“Our mission is readiness, which means we keep sailors and warfighters ready to go … on a moment’s notice,” said Navy Cmdr. Doug Steffy, an oral and maxillofacial radiologist assigned to Navy Medical Readiness Training Command Bremerton. “The goal is to get them to where they will not need any dental services for at least 12 months.” 

Steffy is one of only 11 oral and maxillofacial radiologists in the entire Navy — there are even fewer in the Air Force and Army — so he spends a lot of his time reading advanced digital imaging for Bremerton and its clinics, as well as other commands.  

“I get scans for the whole Pacific Northwest. It doesn’t matter whether they’re Army, Navy or Air Force,” he said.  

Bremerton’s clinics, which Steffy commands, treat only active-duty service members, many of whom are submariners between the ages of 18-24. All of the patients are classified into four groups:  

• Class 1: These patients have zero dental needs and are 100% healthy.   
• Class 2: There are no dental needs that will cause a problem in the next few months. 
• Class 3: There’s a significant enough problem, such as a cavity, that could potentially cause the patient problems in the next year and interrupt their deployment. 
• Class 4: The patient hasn’t had a dental visit in more than a year. 

“Our goal is to get everyone to Class 1,” Steffy said.  

Within the military, Class 4 is a rarity. Unlike civilians who like to avoid the dentist, service members don’t get that choice.  

“We can force you to come,” Steffy said. “You can’t go out to sea unless we say you’re ready.” 

That requirement to be seen has helped discover some serious issues early on, Steffy said, such as tumors that patients couldn’t feel growing. 

“We’ve had multiple cases of patients coming in and us identifying an abnormal area of their head and neck, their bone, and then doing biopsy follow-up work and catching a truly malignant lesion, cutting it out and solving the problem,” Steffy said. “If they were to wait a few more years, who knows.” 

The Navy Medical Readiness Training Command clinics in the Pacific Northwest are able to do great work thanks to advanced digital technology, including computer-aided drilling and milling machines that can print dentures, implants and other dental objects. Root canal and crown procedures, for example, are completed much faster using the tech, and they save a significant amount of money.  

“[For a crown], it used to take 10 to 14 days — you’d come in, get the procedure done, we would put a temporary [crown] on you and send you away. You’d come back in about two weeks, and we would cement a final product,” Steffy said. “Now, they can come and be gone in two hours with the final product.” 

Fit to Serve: They’re the Best of the Best 

One notion Steffy would like to dispel: The care provided by active-duty Navy dentists is somehow substandard to that of civilian dentists.  

“All of us are trained the exact same way every private practice dentist in the whole world is trained,” said Steffy, who went to dental school at UCLA and did his residency at the University of Texas, San Antonio. “There is no military dental school. … The difference is I’m not trying to sell you a treatment. I’m just telling you what you’re going to get.” 

 

Military dentists keep up with private practice standards and meet the advancements in technology that are found in schools and institutions.  

“I’m not licensed by the Navy. I’m licensed by the state of Washington, so I have to maintain the exact same standard as every dentist in the state,” Steffy said. “We’re also subject to the same disciplinary problems. … Actually, we’re probably held more accountable than private practice because we have peer review, which means every month, some other dentist has to evaluate five of my procedures and say, ‘Yes, these are up to the standard of care.'” 

A Network of Expertise & Leadership Opportunities 

Steffy, who’s a married Marine Corps veteran with three children, said his family loves the experiences that come with moving duty stations every few years. But he knows he’s in the minority when it comes to military dentists. He said most who enlist get out after their four-year obligation, so finding capable dentists who are willing to stay in the service is always a priority.  

“They’re always looking to move talent up through the ranks and retain good clinicians and people to fill top leadership roles,” he said. “I would encourage people to not be afraid to consider military service, as far as health care goes.” 

 

Steffy said private practice has its downsides, including feelings of isolation and having to maintain a business on one’s own. In the military, however, there are plenty of peer professionals to reach out to for help, advice or to learn a new skill. 

“I have direct access to a surgeon, to radiologists, to comprehensive dentists who’ve been doing this for 20 years and we’re not competing with each other for patients or money,” he said.  

Another benefit — he’s learned valuable lessons in leadership.  

“Mentoring all these different people ages 18-55 and helping us all accomplish our goals together has been rewarding for me,” he said.