From the MINUTEMEN who purchased our Nation's freedom with their sacrifice during the American Revolution, to the soldiers called to service during our current crisis, the defense of American freedom has often fallen to the citizen soldier.  Many of these were or  are members of the National Guard and Reserves, men and women who live civilian lives Monday through Friday, and commit one weekend each month to military training and preparedness.

When many Americans think of the members of the Guard and Reserves, they tend to define them as those citizens who are called out for temporary duty in times of floods, earthquakes, and other disasters...not as soldiers.  Along the way, soldiers of the Guard and Reserves have often become known as Weekend Warriors, a title not ascribed in recognition of the potential dangers they face, but a cynical description that denies them the title they justly deserve...for they are indeed, American SOLDIERS. 

Since the beginning of the Spanish-American War, 114 members of the National Guard have been awarded Medals of Honor for their heroism in combat.  This is the true story of one of them:

 

"Fuzz" The True Story of a "Weekend Warrior" "On the island of New Georgia in the Solomons "Stands a simple wooden cross alone to tell; "That beneath the silent coral of the Solomons "Sleeps a man, sleeps a man... Remembered well."

Mr. and Mrs. Nicholas Young struggled bravely to contain their fears as they looked down at the unmoving body of their young son.  For more than two hours the boy had lain motionless, the only sign of life and the one reason for hope, the fact that his chest rose and fell with his shallow breathing.  Beyond this, there had been no signs of life since he had been carried from the floor of the high school basketball game.

"Why," perhaps they wondered, "did their son have to try so hard."  The skinny little guy was not an athlete, yet his passion for sports consumed him.  By some twist of fate, his heart had been born too large for his body...or perhaps it was the other way around.  The little guy just had too much heart to realize that there were some things his body COULDN'T do.  

Rodger was one of the Young's five children, four boys and daughter Betty.  The middle-class family made their home in Green Springs, Ohio only a few miles away from the slightly larger town of Tiffin where their son had been born fifteen years earlier on April 28, 1918.  Rodger had always loved music, and years later his father recalled, "When Rodger was young, the whole family would play music together and people would stop and listen to us.  Rodger was a very good musician.  He played guitar and mouth organ."  In fact, Rodger put together a family combo that became quite popular for neighborhood gatherings.

Rodger also loved the outdoors, despite a physique that would not have quickly identified him as the rugged, outdoor type.  With Lake Erie only a short distance from his hometown, Rodger spent much of his free time fishing.  He was also an excellent marksman and avid hunter.  One day, while hunting rabbits, he had acquired the nickname Fuzz.

With so many things going for him, there was no logical reason for Fuzz to be so persistent in his determination to be an athlete.  Baseball...well, he did reasonably well there and was known to have a strong throwing arm for such a little guy.  When football season began during his Freshman year of high school, Rodger had been quickly eliminated from any competition as too small to compete.  So he eagerly awaited the start of basketball season, determined somehow to make the team.  He did...usually playing for practice scrimmages.  But Rodger's spirit and determination also garnered the coach's respect, and occasionally he put the little guy into a real game.  

Mr. and Mrs. Young looked back at the prostrate body of their little boy on his hospital bed, remembering how he had played every game as if he were the tallest guy on the court.  The mere fact of his presence seemed to add a spark that ignited his less enthusiastic teammates.  And then, only hours earlier, the little guy had been going up for a long shot when an opposing player fouled him, cutting his legs out from under him.  Rodger had landed on the floor with a sickening thud, his head striking the hard surface creating an unearthly sound that had rendered the spectators silent.  In the silence, all could see that Rodger Young was no longer moving...for him, the lights had finally gone out.

It was a heart-rending moment for Mr. and Mrs. Young, followed by anxious hours during which Rodger had been taken to the hospital, still unconscious.  But Rodger was a kid with lots of heart, and as long as there was life, there was hope.  

A flicker of movement caught Mr. and Mrs. Young's attention and they looked quickly into the face of their son.  A sparkle of light, reflected from the overhead lights, beamed back as one eye slowly opened.  Then the other eye opened, and Rodger was back.  Moments later his weak voice speaking reassuring words to his parents brought a flood of relief.  The doctor came in, found Rodger now fully conscious and talking to his parents.  He pronounced the young man recovered, and soon Rodger was on his way home to be rejoined with his brothers and sister.  

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In the months that followed Rodger's basketball injury,  Mr. and Mrs. Young's sense of relief at his recover was beginning to look somewhat premature.  Fuzz's fall to the hard floor had caused damage they couldn't have anticipated, nor could the medical equipment of the late 1930s detect.  But through the following spring and summer, the damage done inside young Rodgers body began to show itself more and more.  His senses began to loose their keenness, his hearing worsening with each passing week.  His eyes also began to fail, and soon he was wearing thick eye glasses.  In the fall he returned to high school, a Sophomore, but it was not destined to be a good year for Rodger Young.  He had trouble hearing the lessons, or seeing the drawings on the chalk board.  As a result, his grades began slipping, taking with them any hope of graduation.  In the middle the year, Rodger left high school.  If he could not complete his studies successfully, he felt he might at least take a job in a local factory to help support the Young family.  That was the way of Rodger Young, looking beyond his own inabilities or handicaps, with a concern for others.  In 1939 Rodger and his older brother Webster joined the Ohio National Guard.

It was not so much a matter of patriotism that prompted the decision of the two boys, as it was a matter of practicality.  The United States was at peace, the service in the guard was a simple matter of part-time soldiering that could provide a little extra income.  By this time Rodger had resigned himself to the fact that his sight and hearing was growing increasingly worse, and the young man would probably never have passed a physical in the regular army.  But in the National Guard he found a welcome opportunity to serve, and to help support his family.  The following year, his 148th Regiment was Federalized, and with the mobilization following the attack on Pearl Harbor, Rodger was a full-time soldier.  At 5'2" tall and weighing 125 pounds, he was one of the smallest soldiers in the Army.  Still, he wore his uniform with pride, and was quick to pose for a photo with his father and two of his brothers on a return home.

Despite his small size, his physical problems, and his thick glasses, Rodger managed to hide just how serious were his hearing and sight problems.  He was a good soldier, training hard and with the same  big heart that had always enabled him to achieve beyond what others might have expected, given his stature and appearance.  In 1942 the 37th Infantry Division (Ohio National Guard) was sent to Camp Shelby, Mississippi to train for combat.  Rodger and Webster went together, the older brother now married and renting an apartment near the post for his young wife.

As a young National Guard private, Rodger Young pushed himself to achieve in such manner that his determination and enthusiasm could be seen by all.  At Camp Shelby, that same drive pushed him to new levels, earning him the respect of all officers, NCOs, and the other enlisted men.   One of the proudest moments in the life of Rodger Young was the day his dedication was recognized with a promotion.  Three chevrons were pinned to the sleeves of Rodger Young's uniform, and the kid who was one of the most unlikely of soldiers, was new a sergeant in the United States Army.  Excitedly, he wrote home to share the wonderful news with his parents.  

Rodger also developed a new hobby - photography.  He loved taking pictures, his favorite subjects:  "Pretty girls, scenery, buddies and family."  Weekends, he could be found still in uniform, leisurely and contentedly relaxing on the swing suspended from the porch of Webster's apartment.  And there, the camera caught up with him, providing for those who would remember the smiling little guy with the big glasses, a most memorable portrait of the Army's proudest sergeant.

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While Rodger and Webster Young were training at Camp Shelby, the United States Marines launched the first major offensive in the Pacific at a small island named Guadalcanal.  On the night of August 6, 1942 the men of the 1st Marine Division began arriving on the island that was pivotal to the Japanese control over the Solomon Islands.  General Alexander Vandergrift and his untested Marines  landed almost unopposed, only to find themselves in a 6-month battle for their lives.  From August until October, heroism abounded, generating such legendary heroes as Manila John Basilone, Mitchell Paige, Joe Foss, Douglas Munro, Merritt Edson, and even the intrepid Marine commander himself.  During the period the Marines fought bitterly, endured much, and suffered incredible losses.  Their valiant effort gained a small foot-hold on the island however, and on Veterans Day 1942 the Army's 182d Infantry Regiment began landing to bring some relief to Vandergrift's Marines.  The following night the Japanese responded in a naval battle in The Slot just beyond Guadalcanal that left several American warships burning or sinking.  On the morning of November 13th, the USS Juneau was sunk by an enemy torpedo as the American vessel limped away from the scene of the previous nights engagement.  Going down with the USS Juneau were the five Sullivan Brothers from a small town in Iowa, along with 7 other sets of brothers.  None of the young sailors survived.

By February 1943, after heavy losses and continued bitter fighting, the American forces finally gained control of Guadalcanal.  A few months later the 37th Infantry Division departed San Francisco for Guadalcanal, the fresh troops being prepared to continue the effort to wrest control of the Solomon Islands from the Japanese.  Among the young soldiers of the Ohio National Guard departing the shores of their homeland for combat in the Pacific, was a small-built, be-speckled young man named Staff Sergeant Rodger Young.

The SS President Coolidge transported these fresh troops, most of which were former Ohio National Guardsmen, first to Fiji.  From there the 37th Infantry moved on to Guadalcanal, now firmly under American control and a training and staging area for planned assaults throughout the Solomons.  Upon arrival on Guadalcanal, the soldiers began additional training to prepare themselves for war in the jungles.  Staff Sergeant Young pushed his soldiers with great dedication, fully understanding that within weeks their survival in combat would be decided in large measure by their preparations for war.    In those preparations Staff Sergeant Young developed the confidence in his soldiers that they could meet the enemy and defeat him...that they were at last ready for war.  It was during this period that the young NCO from Ohio also began to realize that perhaps he was NOT!

From his earliest childhood, Rodger Young's heart had always been much larger than his body...his determination far stronger than any perceived weakness.  Now, for the first time, Rodger Young realized that he had to come to grips with some of his own limitations.  He had been proud of his accomplishments, his yellow sergeant stripes among his most cherished achievements.  But preparing his soldiers for war brought a realization that he must make the most difficult decision of his life.  He did, and in typical Rodger Young fashion.

It was late in June when Staff Sergeant Young went to see the 148th's Regimental Commander, drawing himself up to his full 5'2" height to render a salute, the chevrons of a Staff Sergeant prominent on his sleeves.  Plans were underway for sending the 148th into combat on the nearby island of New Georgia to take and hold the vital Munda airstrip.  The planning was intense, and the C.O. was at first rather preoccupied when the little guy with the thick glasses said:  "Sir, I would like to request permission to be reduced to the rank of private."

It was an unusual statement from any NCO, and caught the commander rather unprepared.  After a moment he looked at the young man before him and asked rather brusquely, "What is your reason for wanting to be busted, Sergeant?"

Sergeant Young steeled himself for what he knew he must do.  He loved his stripes, his role as a leader and the fact that he had accomplished so much despite his size and his failing health.  Choking back his emotions he blurted out, "Well, sir....you see...my ears are going bad.  I can't hear very well any more and I don't want any of my men killed in New Georgia because of me."

It had been a tough decision, but he knew it was the right decision.  He had forced himself to come here now, to face his commander, and admit to his own frailty.  It was perhaps, the most difficult thing he had ever done in his life.  Now he was stunned and angered when the commander replied rather curtly and with some distaste, "What's the matter Sergeant?  Don't you want to fight?"

The response cut into him deeply...the decision he had struggled with for so long and finally forced himself to make, was being mis-interpreted as COWARDICE!  His commander thought he was trying to fabricate medical problems to get himself shipped home and away from the looming combat action on New Georgia.

"Sir," Rodger Young replied resolutely, "I don't want to leave the outfit.  I want to go on -- but as a PRIVATE, so I'm only responsible for myself.  I don't want to get any of my men hurt because of me."  He paused for a moment, looking the senior officer full in the eyes and continued, "If I thought I'd be left behind because of THIS, then I'd rather drop the whole thing."

That afternoon the company physician checked out Rodger's physical condition, and reported to the captain that indeed the little soldier with the sergeant's stripes was approaching deafness.  The captain even tendered the brave young man an apology with the doctor's recommendation that he be sent to a field hospital.  Sergeant Young emphatically refused to be sent away, and returned to his unit to join his friends.  There was no way he would leave them now.  They had been together far too long, most of them from his home state and some from his small hometown, such as his boyhood friend fellow NCO, Sergeant Walter Rigby (in photo at right with Rodger Young).

Sergeant Rigby would retain his stripes in the coming action, but on the following morning Staff Sergeant Rodger Young was reduced to the rank of private.  Ironically, he would serve under Sergeant Rigby in the coming action...one that would demand an even tougher, and far more costly decision, than his decision to give up his cherished chevrons.  The Ohio National Guard was on its way to the island of New Georgia, just 200 miles from Henderson Field at Guadalcanal, to claim an airstrip of their own...

The Munda Airstrip.

It was after nightfall when the fifteen survivors of Sergeant Rigby's patrol finally reached the Company B bivouac area.  Between them they carried a heavy burden wrapped in ponchos, the bodies of five hometown boys of the Ohio National Guard.

The company commander sat down and wrote letters home to the mothers of five young Americans who had given everything they had in the defense of freedom.  That completed, he began writing a special report on one of them.  It was the recommendation for the Medal of Honor, to be awarded posthumously to Private Rodger Young.  In the recommendation he included the sentence, "Disregarding the orders of his platoon leader to come back, Rodger Young moved forward into the face of enemy fire."

The commander of the 148th Regiment reviewed the recommendation, and approved it with one minor change.  He altered the previous sentence to say, "Not hearing the orders of his platoon leader to come back, Rodger Young moved forward into the face of enemy fire."

No one in his regiment disobeyed orders.

A month after the captain sent his letter of condolences to Mr. and Mrs. Nicholas Young regarding the death of their son, he received a courteous but interesting reply.  Mrs. Young thanked the commander for his kind letter, and included a special request:
"Rodger was proud of being a staff sergeant.  Since his body won't be returned to us until after the War, we would like to put up a little monument in our Clyde, Ohio, cemetery.  Would it be permissible to write 'Staff Sgt. Rodger Young' on the tombstone?"

The captain was more than happy to submit Mrs. Young's personal request through channels in an effort to get Rodger Young posthumously promoted back to Staff Sergeant.  Incredibly, his request was denied.  Such action was without precedent, and the Department of the Army cited any number of regulations prohibiting Mrs. Young's request.  Angry, but unable to do anything further, the captain finally wrote back to Mrs. Young to inform her that "for the time being, your wonderful son will have to remain a private."

Six months later, on January 17, 1944 at Fort Knox, Kentucky; Major General Charles Scott presented the family of Army Private Rodger Wilton Young with our Nation's highest award for military valor.  Fuzz, the "Weekend Warrior" from Ohio, had proven himself to be one of our country's truest kinds of heroes.

  

Click below to read the citations of the heroes of New Georgia Island
Frank Petrarca	Robert S. Scott	Rodger Young

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Footnote: During World War I, fighting men abroad and worried families at home were inspired and motivated by the musical compositions of George M. Cohan.  During World War II, the United States Army was eager to revive such patriotic music, and was eager to find a song that could become a somewhat official theme song for the men of the Army infantry. Among the ranks of America's soldiers was a 34-year old composer from New York, Private First Class Frank Loesser.  It was he who was asked to compose this new Army theme song by the US War Department.  It was suggested that PFC Loesser read the Medal of Honor citations of Army Infantry heroes for inspiration and material.  It was also specifically requested that he review only the citations of Army privates.  The new song would not be dedicated to officers or NCOs, but would recognize the everyday soldier, the lowly private who laid it all on the line in the fields of battle. It only took one reading of Private Rodger Young's Medal of Honor citation to convince Loesser that he had found his subject, and his source of inspiration.  The Ballad of Rodger Young did indeed, become one of the most recognized hits of World War II.  Ironically, has Mrs. Young's request to have her son posthumously promoted back to Staff Sergeant been approved, the story of Rodger Young would not have been reviewed by PFC Loesser, and one of the most memorable ballads of American history would have never been written.

The Ballad of Rodger Young by PFC Frank Loesser No, they've got no time for glory in the Infantry. No, they've got no use for praises loudly sung, But in every soldier's heart in all the Infantry Shines the name, shines the name of Rodger Young.       Shines the name--Rodger Young!       Fought and died for the men he marched among.       To the everlasting glory of the Infantry       Lives the story of Private Rodger Young. Caught in ambush lay a company of riflemen-- Just grenades against machine guns in the gloom-- Caught in ambush till this one of twenty riflemen Volunteered, volunteered to meet his doom.       Volunteered, Rodger Young!       Fought and died for the men he marched among.       In the everlasting annals of the Infantry       Glows the last deed of Private Rodger Young. It was he who drew the fire of the enemy That a company of men might live to fight; And before the deadly fire of the enemy Stood the man, stood the man we hail tonight. On the island of New Georgia in the Solomons, Stands a simple wooden cross alone to tell That beneath the silent coral of the Solomons, Sleeps a man, sleeps a man remembered well.       Sleeps a man, Rodger Young,       Fought and died for the men he marched among.       In the everlasting spirit of the Infantry       Breathes the spirit of Private Rodger Young. No, they've got no time for glory in the Infantry, No, they've got no use for praises loudly sung, But in every soldier's heart in all the Infantry Shines the name, shines the name of Rodger Young.       Shines the name--Rodger Young!       Fought and died for the men he marched among.       To the everlasting glory of the Infantry       Lives the story of Private Rodger Young.

 

 

Sources:
Heroes of World War II, by Edward F. Murphy
Heroes of Ohio-23 True Tales of Courage and Character, by Rick Sowash
"Life Magazine"
The Freemont News-Messenger, July 31, 1993
Sandusky County Scrapbook
Frankel-y Speaking by Stanley A. Frankel  (Mr. Frankel was a platoon leader in Rodger's Company)

 

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HomeOfHeroes.com now has more than 25,000 pages of US History for you to view.