GyG1345
01-14-03, 08:42 AM
Milinet: A Sea Story
by Dick G (Login Dick Gaines)
Forum Owner
14 January 2003
MILINET: A Sea Story
By: Colonel James Moschgat, USAF
=======================
William "Bill" Crawford certainly was an unimpressive figure, one
you could easily overlook during a hectic day at the U.S. Air Force
Academy. Mr. Crawford, as most of us referred to him back in the
late 1970s, was our squadron janitor.
While we cadets busied ourselves preparing for academic exams,
athletic events, Saturday morning parades and room inspections,
or never-ending leadership classes, Bill quietly moved about the
squadron mopping and buffing floors, emptying trash cans,
cleaning toilets, or just tidying up the mess 100 college-age kids
can leave in a dormitory. Sadly, and for many years, few of us
gave him much notice, rendering little more than a passing nod or
throwing a curt, "G'morning!" in his direction as we hurried off to
our daily duties.
Why? Perhaps it was because of the way he did his job-he always
kept the squadron area spotlessly clean, even the toilets and
showers gleamed. Frankly, he did his job so well, none of us had
to notice or get involved. After all, cleaning toilets was his job, not
ours. Maybe it was his physical appearance that made him
disappear into the background. Bill didn't move very quickly and in
fact, you could say he even shuffled a bit, as if he suffered from
some sort of injury. His gray hair and wrinkled face made him
appear ancient to a group of young cadets. And his crooked
smile, well, it looked a little funny. Face it, Bill was an old man
working in a young person's world. What did he have to offer us on
a personal level?
Finally, maybe it was Mr. Crawford's personality that rendered him
almost invisible to the young people around him. Bill was shy,
almost painfully so. He seldom spoke to a cadet unless they
addressed him first, and that didn't happen very often. Our janitor
always buried himself in his work, moving about with stooped
shoulders, a quiet gait, and an averted gaze. If he noticed the
hustle and bustle of cadet life around him, it was hard to tell. So,
for whatever reason, Bill blended into the woodwork and became
just another fixture around the squadron. The Academy, one of our
nation's premier leadership laboratories, kept us busy from dawn
till dusk. And Mr. Crawford...well, he was just a janitor.
That changed one fall Saturday afternoon in 1976. I was reading a
book about World War II and the tough Allied ground campaign in
Italy, when I stumbled across an incredible story. On September
13, 1943, a Private William Crawford from Colorado, assigned to
the 36th Infantry Division, had been involved in some bloody
fighting on Hill 424 near Altavilla, Italy. The words on the page
leapt out at me: "in the face of intense and overwhelming hostile
fire ... with no regard for personal safety ... on his own initiative,
Private Crawford single-handedly attacked fortified enemy
positions." It continued, "for conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity
at risk of life above and beyond the call of duty, the President of
the United States..." "Holy cow," I said to my roommate, "you're
not going to believe this, but I think our janitor is a Medal of Honor
winner."
We all knew Mr. Crawford was a WWII Army vet, but that didn't
keep my friend from looking at me as if I was some sort of alien
being. Nonetheless, we couldn't wait to ask Bill about the story on
Monday. We met Mr. Crawford bright and early Monday and
showed him the page in question from the book, anticipation and
doubt in our faces. He starred at it for a few silent moments and
then quietly uttered something like, "Yep, that's me."
Mouths agape, my roommate and I looked at one another, then at
the book, and quickly back at our janitor. Almost at once we both
stuttered, "Why didn't you ever tell us about it?" He slowly replied
after some thought, "That was one day in my life and it happened
a long time ago." I guess we were all at a loss for words after that.
We had to hurry off to class and Bill, well, he had chores to attend
to. However, after that brief exchange, things were never again the
same around our squadron. Word spread like wildfire among the
cadets that we had a hero in our midst-Mr. Crawford, our janitor,
had won the Medal! Cadets who had once passed by Bill with
hardly a glance, now greeted him with a smile and a respectful,
"Good morning, Mr. Crawford." Those who had before left a mess
for the "janitor" to clean up started taking it upon themselves to
put things in order. Most cadets routinely stopped to talk to Bill
throughout the day and we even began inviting him to our formal
squadron functions. He'd show up dressed in a conservative dark
suit and quietly talk to those who approached him, the only sign of
his heroics being a simple blue, star-spangled lapel pin.
Almost overnight, Bill went from being a simple fixture in our
squadron to one of our teammates. Mr. Crawford changed too, but
you had to look closely to notice the difference. After that fall day
in 1976, he seemed to move with more purpose, his shoulders
didn't seem to be as stooped, he met our greetings with a direct
gaze and a stronger "good morning" in return, and he flashed his
crooked smile more often. The squadron gleamed as always, but
everyone now seemed to notice it more. Bill even got to know
most of us by our first names, something that didn't happen often
at the Academy. While no one ever formally acknowledged the
change, I think we became Bill's cadets and his squadron. As
often happens in life, events sweep us away from those in our
past.
The last time I saw Bill was on graduation day in June 1977. As I
walked out of the squadron for the last time, he shook my hand
and simply said, "Good luck, young man." With that, I embarked
on a career that has been truly lucky and blessed. Mr. Crawford
continued to work at the Academy and eventually retired in his
native Colorado where he resides today, one of four Medal of
Honor winners living in a small town.
" Private William John Crawford was a platoon scout for 3rd Platoon
of Company L, 142nd Regiment, 36th Division (Texas National
Guard), and won the Medal Of Honor for his actions on Hill 424,
just 4 days after the invasion at Salerno. On Hill 424, Private
Crawford took out 3 enemy machine guns before darkness fell,
halting the platoon' advance. Private Crawford could not be found
and was assumed dead. The request for his MOH was quickly
approved. Major General Terry Allen presented the posthumous
MOH to Bill Crawford's father, George, on 11 May 1944 in Camp
(now Fort) Carson, near Pueblo. Nearly two months after that, it
was learned that Private Crawford was alive in a POW camp
in Germany.
During his captivity, a German guard clubbed him with his rifle.
Bill overpowered him, took the rifle away, and beat the guard
unconscious. A German doctor's testimony saved him from severe
punishment, perhaps death. To stay ahead of the advancing
Russian army, the prisoners were marched 500 miles in 52 days
in the middle of the German winter, subsisting on one potato a
day. An allied tank column liberated the camp in the spring of
1945, and Private Crawford took his first hot shower in 18 months
on VE Day. Private Crawford stayed in the army before retiring as
a MSG and becoming a janitor. In 1984, President Ronald Reagan
officially presented the Medal of Honor to Bill Crawford.
MEDAL OF HONOR CITATION FOR PRIVATE WILLIAM J.
CRAWFORD: Rank and organization: Private, U.S. Army, 36th
Infantry Division. Place and date: Near Altavilla, Italy, 13
September 1943. Entered service at: Pueblo, Colo. Birth: Pueblo,
Colo., G.O. No.: 57, 20 July 1944. Citation: For conspicuous
gallantry and intrepidity at risk of life above and beyond the call of
duty in action with the enemy near Altavilla, Italy, 13 September
1943. When Company I attacked an enemy-held position on Hill
424, the 3d Platoon, in which Pvt. Crawford was a squad scout,
attacked as base platoon for the company. After reaching the
crest of the hill, the platoon was pinned down by intense enemy
machinegun and small-arms fire. Locating 1 of these guns, which
was dug in on a terrace on his immediate front, Pvt. Crawford,
without orders and on his own initiative, moved over the hill under
enemy fire to a point within a few yards of the gun emplacement
and single-handedly destroyed the machinegun and killed 3 of the
crew with a hand grenade, thus enabling his platoon to continue
its advance. When the platoon, after reaching the crest, was once
more delayed by enemy fire, Pvt. Crawford again, in the face of
intense fire, advanced directly to the front midway between 2
hostile machinegun nests located on a higher terrace and
emplaced in a small ravine. Moving first to the left, with a hand
grenade he destroyed 1 gun emplacement and killed the crew; he
then worked his way, under continuous fire, to the other and with
1 grenade and the use of his rifle, killed 1 enemy and forced the
remainder to flee. Seizing the enemy machinegun, he fired on the
withdrawing Germans and facilitated his company's advance.
Posted on Jan 14, 2003, 8:52 AM
from IP address 209.130.221.200
by Dick G (Login Dick Gaines)
Forum Owner
14 January 2003
MILINET: A Sea Story
By: Colonel James Moschgat, USAF
=======================
William "Bill" Crawford certainly was an unimpressive figure, one
you could easily overlook during a hectic day at the U.S. Air Force
Academy. Mr. Crawford, as most of us referred to him back in the
late 1970s, was our squadron janitor.
While we cadets busied ourselves preparing for academic exams,
athletic events, Saturday morning parades and room inspections,
or never-ending leadership classes, Bill quietly moved about the
squadron mopping and buffing floors, emptying trash cans,
cleaning toilets, or just tidying up the mess 100 college-age kids
can leave in a dormitory. Sadly, and for many years, few of us
gave him much notice, rendering little more than a passing nod or
throwing a curt, "G'morning!" in his direction as we hurried off to
our daily duties.
Why? Perhaps it was because of the way he did his job-he always
kept the squadron area spotlessly clean, even the toilets and
showers gleamed. Frankly, he did his job so well, none of us had
to notice or get involved. After all, cleaning toilets was his job, not
ours. Maybe it was his physical appearance that made him
disappear into the background. Bill didn't move very quickly and in
fact, you could say he even shuffled a bit, as if he suffered from
some sort of injury. His gray hair and wrinkled face made him
appear ancient to a group of young cadets. And his crooked
smile, well, it looked a little funny. Face it, Bill was an old man
working in a young person's world. What did he have to offer us on
a personal level?
Finally, maybe it was Mr. Crawford's personality that rendered him
almost invisible to the young people around him. Bill was shy,
almost painfully so. He seldom spoke to a cadet unless they
addressed him first, and that didn't happen very often. Our janitor
always buried himself in his work, moving about with stooped
shoulders, a quiet gait, and an averted gaze. If he noticed the
hustle and bustle of cadet life around him, it was hard to tell. So,
for whatever reason, Bill blended into the woodwork and became
just another fixture around the squadron. The Academy, one of our
nation's premier leadership laboratories, kept us busy from dawn
till dusk. And Mr. Crawford...well, he was just a janitor.
That changed one fall Saturday afternoon in 1976. I was reading a
book about World War II and the tough Allied ground campaign in
Italy, when I stumbled across an incredible story. On September
13, 1943, a Private William Crawford from Colorado, assigned to
the 36th Infantry Division, had been involved in some bloody
fighting on Hill 424 near Altavilla, Italy. The words on the page
leapt out at me: "in the face of intense and overwhelming hostile
fire ... with no regard for personal safety ... on his own initiative,
Private Crawford single-handedly attacked fortified enemy
positions." It continued, "for conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity
at risk of life above and beyond the call of duty, the President of
the United States..." "Holy cow," I said to my roommate, "you're
not going to believe this, but I think our janitor is a Medal of Honor
winner."
We all knew Mr. Crawford was a WWII Army vet, but that didn't
keep my friend from looking at me as if I was some sort of alien
being. Nonetheless, we couldn't wait to ask Bill about the story on
Monday. We met Mr. Crawford bright and early Monday and
showed him the page in question from the book, anticipation and
doubt in our faces. He starred at it for a few silent moments and
then quietly uttered something like, "Yep, that's me."
Mouths agape, my roommate and I looked at one another, then at
the book, and quickly back at our janitor. Almost at once we both
stuttered, "Why didn't you ever tell us about it?" He slowly replied
after some thought, "That was one day in my life and it happened
a long time ago." I guess we were all at a loss for words after that.
We had to hurry off to class and Bill, well, he had chores to attend
to. However, after that brief exchange, things were never again the
same around our squadron. Word spread like wildfire among the
cadets that we had a hero in our midst-Mr. Crawford, our janitor,
had won the Medal! Cadets who had once passed by Bill with
hardly a glance, now greeted him with a smile and a respectful,
"Good morning, Mr. Crawford." Those who had before left a mess
for the "janitor" to clean up started taking it upon themselves to
put things in order. Most cadets routinely stopped to talk to Bill
throughout the day and we even began inviting him to our formal
squadron functions. He'd show up dressed in a conservative dark
suit and quietly talk to those who approached him, the only sign of
his heroics being a simple blue, star-spangled lapel pin.
Almost overnight, Bill went from being a simple fixture in our
squadron to one of our teammates. Mr. Crawford changed too, but
you had to look closely to notice the difference. After that fall day
in 1976, he seemed to move with more purpose, his shoulders
didn't seem to be as stooped, he met our greetings with a direct
gaze and a stronger "good morning" in return, and he flashed his
crooked smile more often. The squadron gleamed as always, but
everyone now seemed to notice it more. Bill even got to know
most of us by our first names, something that didn't happen often
at the Academy. While no one ever formally acknowledged the
change, I think we became Bill's cadets and his squadron. As
often happens in life, events sweep us away from those in our
past.
The last time I saw Bill was on graduation day in June 1977. As I
walked out of the squadron for the last time, he shook my hand
and simply said, "Good luck, young man." With that, I embarked
on a career that has been truly lucky and blessed. Mr. Crawford
continued to work at the Academy and eventually retired in his
native Colorado where he resides today, one of four Medal of
Honor winners living in a small town.
" Private William John Crawford was a platoon scout for 3rd Platoon
of Company L, 142nd Regiment, 36th Division (Texas National
Guard), and won the Medal Of Honor for his actions on Hill 424,
just 4 days after the invasion at Salerno. On Hill 424, Private
Crawford took out 3 enemy machine guns before darkness fell,
halting the platoon' advance. Private Crawford could not be found
and was assumed dead. The request for his MOH was quickly
approved. Major General Terry Allen presented the posthumous
MOH to Bill Crawford's father, George, on 11 May 1944 in Camp
(now Fort) Carson, near Pueblo. Nearly two months after that, it
was learned that Private Crawford was alive in a POW camp
in Germany.
During his captivity, a German guard clubbed him with his rifle.
Bill overpowered him, took the rifle away, and beat the guard
unconscious. A German doctor's testimony saved him from severe
punishment, perhaps death. To stay ahead of the advancing
Russian army, the prisoners were marched 500 miles in 52 days
in the middle of the German winter, subsisting on one potato a
day. An allied tank column liberated the camp in the spring of
1945, and Private Crawford took his first hot shower in 18 months
on VE Day. Private Crawford stayed in the army before retiring as
a MSG and becoming a janitor. In 1984, President Ronald Reagan
officially presented the Medal of Honor to Bill Crawford.
MEDAL OF HONOR CITATION FOR PRIVATE WILLIAM J.
CRAWFORD: Rank and organization: Private, U.S. Army, 36th
Infantry Division. Place and date: Near Altavilla, Italy, 13
September 1943. Entered service at: Pueblo, Colo. Birth: Pueblo,
Colo., G.O. No.: 57, 20 July 1944. Citation: For conspicuous
gallantry and intrepidity at risk of life above and beyond the call of
duty in action with the enemy near Altavilla, Italy, 13 September
1943. When Company I attacked an enemy-held position on Hill
424, the 3d Platoon, in which Pvt. Crawford was a squad scout,
attacked as base platoon for the company. After reaching the
crest of the hill, the platoon was pinned down by intense enemy
machinegun and small-arms fire. Locating 1 of these guns, which
was dug in on a terrace on his immediate front, Pvt. Crawford,
without orders and on his own initiative, moved over the hill under
enemy fire to a point within a few yards of the gun emplacement
and single-handedly destroyed the machinegun and killed 3 of the
crew with a hand grenade, thus enabling his platoon to continue
its advance. When the platoon, after reaching the crest, was once
more delayed by enemy fire, Pvt. Crawford again, in the face of
intense fire, advanced directly to the front midway between 2
hostile machinegun nests located on a higher terrace and
emplaced in a small ravine. Moving first to the left, with a hand
grenade he destroyed 1 gun emplacement and killed the crew; he
then worked his way, under continuous fire, to the other and with
1 grenade and the use of his rifle, killed 1 enemy and forced the
remainder to flee. Seizing the enemy machinegun, he fired on the
withdrawing Germans and facilitated his company's advance.
Posted on Jan 14, 2003, 8:52 AM
from IP address 209.130.221.200