One of the most underreported stories in recent months happened when Marine Sgt. Dakota Meyer, recipient of the Medal of Honor, re-enlisted in the U.S. Marine Corps after a 15-year break in service. Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth personally administered the oath of enlistment in a high-profile ceremony.
“There’s never been a better time to serve our country than right now,” Sgt. Meyer said later. “There’s never been a need, like we need right now, of good men and women who are willing to stand up and who are willing [to] defend the beliefs of the American people, of the Constitution..."
More of that, please.
Sgt. Meyer took the oath just weeks after National Medal of Honor Day, which occurs every March 25th. During this year’s day of recognition, a friend of mine took the boys in his Trail Life troop to a wreath-laying ceremony at the National Cemetery near Montevallo. He later related that he was unaware how many Medal of Honor recipients have come from our home state of Alabama — thirty-three, to be exact.
I have had the privilege of meeting several of Alabama’s recipients. One, Army Colonel and Green Beret legend Ola Lee Mize, profoundly spoke into my own life before my deployment to Afghanistan.
The Medal of Honor is our nation’s highest award for valor in combat. The recipient must have faced an extreme combat situation whose outcome was shaped by their actions. Any wearer of the Medal of Honor is due to be saluted by all uniformed personnel regardless of rank, meaning that small, sky blue swatch of ribbon requires a general to salute a private.
In the history of the United States, there have been just over 3,500 recipients.
But there is one Alabama awardee whose story carries an ongoing legacy: Henry Eugene Erwin. His friends called him “Red.”
Erwin was described as "a country boy, quiet, unassuming, religiously devout, and the best radioman of the 52d Bomb Squadron” in WWII. Erwin flew with the crew of a B-29 Superfortress nicknamed the City of Los Angeles. Part of Erwin’s job was to drop a white phosphorus smoke bomb marker out of a chute to mark the assembly area for all other planes. He had done so multiple times before. But on his 11th combat mission, it went badly.
With the City of Los Angeles under fire, Erwin released his white phosphorus bomb into the chute. The bomb malfunctioned and ignited, immediately reaching 1,300 degrees. White phosphorus burns continually and can’t be put out with water, burning at temperatures that melt metal while creating massive amounts of thick white smoke.
“The canister blew back up the chute into Erwin’s face, blinding him, searing off one ear, and filling the B-29 with heavy smoke that obscured the pilots’ instrument panel,” one account reports. Despite his massive injuries, Erwin knew that the bomb had to be tossed from the aircraft or it would burn through the metal floor into the bomb bay, and his crew would be killed.
Totally blind and burning, he found the bomb and picked it up, his face and bare arms becoming covered with burning phosphorus. He stayed conscious as it burned him to the bone. Erwin, a man literally on fire, finally “staggered on into the cockpit, threw the bomb out the window, and collapsed,” burning phosphorus still melting his flesh.
Witnesses say that Erwin remained conscious on the flight back, and the only thing he asked about was the safety of the rest of the crew. He was not expected to live. Maj. Gen. Curtis LeMay asked for rushed approval for the award of the Medal of Honor so that they could present it to him before he died. General Hap Arnold wrote to him while he was in the hospital, saying, “I regard your act as one of the bravest in the records of this war.”
Despite all fears to the contrary, Erwin survived. He spent over 30 months in rehab and multiple reconstructive surgeries. He regained his eyesight and the use of one arm. Promoted to Master Sergeant, Erwin was discharged in October 1947. Erwin served as a Veterans’ Benefit Counselor at the VA Hospital in Birmingham for nearly 40 years.
But there is more to the legacy of Erwin than his wartime heroism.
Erwin’s son, Hank, is someone I have had the pleasure of getting to know. Hank Erwin is a former Alabama state senator and the central figure in the story of “Woodlawn,” the Birmingham school that saw a major revival of Christian faith in the ’70s, thanks in large part to Hank Erwin serving as the football team chaplain.
Hank Erwin was known for his conservative record in the Alabama Senate, and in 2010, he ran for lieutenant governor, losing the primary to Kay Ivey. One wonders what would have happened if Erwin had beaten Ivey, who went on to attain governorship when Gov. Robert Bentley stepped down.
But it doesn’t stop there.
Hank Erwin’s sons are Jon and Andrew Erwin. Known in the movie industry as “The Erwin Brothers,” they are famous for restoring faith and values to movie-making with hits like “Woodlawn,” “October Baby,” and “American Underdog.” Their movie, “I Can Only Imagine,” is the third highest-grossing music-biopic movie of all time, and they are currently the producers and directors of the hit Amazon series, “House of David.”
Hank Erwin and the Erwin brothers are extensions of the legacy left to them by Red Erwin.
Red Erwin committed an act of valor in the war. But he lived a life of legacy. He came home and quietly raised a family that is still changing the world.
To contact Phil or request him for a speaking engagement, go to www.rightsideradio.org.
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