Valor Friday

August 1917. The US has now been a part of World War I for months. Vast numbers of men and war materiel have been mobilized. The US Army grows to a size unheard of in the history of the country. As part of that, whole new divisions were being created seemingly every day. Among the new divisions was the 82nd Division. With recruits from all over the country, mostly conscripts, coming to their ranks, they received the nickname “All-American”, which is still used today for the division.

Within the 82nd, the new 328th Infantry Regiment became a cornerstone of the unit. In what within that regiment that Sergeant Alvin York served when they made it to the Western Front in early 1918. He would go on to earn the Medal of Honor for actions in October that year, just weeks before the end of the war. He was one of only two men of the 82nd Division to receive that award during WWI. He was the only man of the 328th Infantry to be so honored.

After the war, the 328th Infantry were a National Guard formation. In February 1942, just two months after the US entered the Second World War, the 328th Infantry were ordered to active duty. They were detached from the 82nd Infantry Division (as it came to be titled in the 1920s), and assigned to the 26th Infantry Division. The 82nd would soon become the first airborne division of the US Army, and saw significant action in that war and every one since (excepting the Korean War).

Among the men mustered into service with the 328th was 23-year-old Albert Wilson. Wilson hailed from the small, rural town of Fairchance, Pennsylvania. It’s said that the borough of less than 2,000 people received its name as travelers from Morgantown, West Virginia had a fair chance of reaching Uniontown before sundown if they got to Fairchance by 1600 hours.

The 328th Infantry, as with all the men of the 26th Infantry Division, underwent more than a year of intense stateside training to prepare for the war. They embarked to the European Theater in late summer 1944. They entered France at Utah Beach, Normandy, starting on 7 September, and were soon assigned to Patton’s III Army. They first tasted combat just a month later.

Wilson was a combat medic. The big country boy towered over his comrades and garnered affectionate nicknames like “Pap,” “Big Al,” and “Stoop.” While in training stateside, many medics were draftees who claimed conscientious objector status. The medics were sort of ostracized from the men they served alongside. They shared basic training and exercises with them, but until they reached the front lines of the war, they were just the guys who didn’t have to do weapons drills.

Once they were in combat though, the dog faces of the infantry loved their medics. Before the first shots had stopped echoing across the battlefield, frantic screams of “Medic!” saw these unarmed young men like Wilson rush through volleys of enemy fire to aid their fellow soldiers. As if the enemy fire which had just moments before been accurate enough to kill or wound someone wasn’t a risk to them. As if the Red Cross affixed to their arms and helmet would shield them from the danger that had just claimed one of their own.

Medical aidmen like Wilson would sprint into action and, in no particular order, evaluate a man’s injuries, bandage them, inject him with morphine, and evacuate him. As such, Wilson’s large size would have been beneficial to move a wounded soldier, but would similarly make him an easier target for enemy shooters.

The 328th Infantry was the first regiment of the 26th Infantry Division to see combat in October 1944. Already experienced, they were called into action by Patton as the III Army resumed the offensive. In the summer and fall of 1944, the Allied armies had pushed out from Normandy and had made a relentless press into the Nazis. By 8 November, they had the Germans on the run. They were near Bezange-la-Petite, in the north east of France. It’s almost within sight of the German border.

Wilson, by now a Technician Fifth Grade by rank (the non-NCO equivalent of a corporal), volunteered to serve with a different company when they were in need of a medic. As he was tending to their wounded, an enemy artillery shell burst within the men of his own company. Returning to them, as he was working in the heat of the battle, another shell exploded. This one struck Wilson, and wounded him grievously.

Wilson refused evacuation when litter carriers came to cart him off. Despite his wounds, he remained with his company and tended to the casualties.

Wilson pressed on until he lost so much blood that he could no longer walk. Still he refused to be taken away, and the young medic literally crawled from patient to patient as the casualties continued to mount around him.

Losing still more blood, Wilson was finally stopped. Physically. Unable to even crawl, Wilson still was undeterred. He verbally directed the treatment of wounded, guiding more able-bodied soldiers to save lives.

Wilson continued to bleed out. Still refusing evacuation, he continued directing the care of his comrades until his voice was but a whisper.

Finally, Wilson, only a month and a half past hist 25th birthday, had nothing left to give. Through a Herculean effort, he saved the lives of at least 10 of his brothers, but he couldn’t save himself. More accurately, he repeatedly refused to save himself. Not a single man would have judged him harshly for leaving when so seriously wounded, but he apparently would have felt like he let them down. So he didn’t leave, he stayed and fought and saved lives until his very final breath.

This gallantry in action was not ignored nor forgotten. He was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor in June 1945. Wilson was the only man of the 328th Infantry to receive the honor during World War II. He was one of only two men awarded the Medal of Honor among all the thousands that served in the 26th Infantry Division during the war. The other man was Ruben Rivers, who I talked about recently.

Many things are named in Wilson’s honor, in and around his hometown. The VFW and the elementary school. Also named for his is Wilson Barracks at Landstuhl, Germany.

I always find it interesting when, among the only 3,500 or so Medals of Honor to be awarded in the past 160+ years when there are multiple recipients with the same name. Such is the case with Alfred Wilson. I’ve been talking about Alfred L. Wilson. Alfred M. Wilson was a 21-year-old private first class in the USMC fighting in Vietnam. Just like Alfred L, Alfred M refused to stop fighting. When his patrol was ambushed returning from a reconnaissance mission, he saw his machine gunner team go down. Dashing through heavy enemy fire, with another Marine following him, to get to the critical weapon, an enemy grenade landed next to him and his fellow rifleman. Without hesitation, Alfred M dove on the grenade, smothering the explosion with his body. Though he died as a result of his act of bravery, just as Alfred L had, his platoon rallied over his loss and fought back hard, shattering the enemy ambush.

Alfred L Wilson’s body was returned home. He’s buried in Fairchance, where the American Legion has a marker up describing his heroism.

Category: Army, Historical, Medal of Honor, Valor, We Remember, WWII