by Eric N. Guel
The quiet tranquility of the seemingly undisturbed ocean was a stark contrast to the utter chaos just above the water’s surface. Marion could practically feel the warmth of the Nazi bullets whirling past his head as he bobbed up and down, under the water one second, above it the next – a human target.
From a distance, the beaches at Salerno looked so peaceful, so calm. They reminded him of the beaches at Galveston, Texas, not too far from his home. He knew he was no longer viewing the beach from a distance; he was a mere 20 yards away from it, with the full knowledge that his short life could soon come to a terrible end. “It’s all for God,” he thought. “It’s all for my country.”
Marion was one of the few who actually volunteered for the war. His voluntary submission to the U.S. Army came when he saw his brother’s draft summons. The cold reality of war was now knocking on his door, pulling his brother from the safety of The Lone Star State, and into the grasps of the armed forces. At that moment, Marion knew he wanted to go, not as a draftee, but as a willing servant. “If I don’t go, they’ll get me to go anyway,” he said stoically.
Despite his seemingly indifferent disposition, Marion wanted to go to war. He wanted to help rid the world of evil and to help liberate captives in lands far, far away. But now, this was far too real…
The water was cold; he hadn’t noticed that before. The boats were under such intense fire that they abandoned their cargo in water that was at least seven feet deep. Unfortunately, Marion stood tall at 5’8”. As his head popped above the water’s surface, he filled his lungs with life-saving oxygen, while keeping an eye out for potentially fatal bullets. Slowly, he made his way to the beach. It was the longest 20 yards he would ever swim. What was he swimming toward? The uncertainty made his legs feel like rubber, he prayed to God for strength.
Having both feet on the beach meant he didn’t drown to death, a small victory. To his left he could see other Americans making their way to dry land, only to be shot upon arrival. At that moment, he declared to himself, and God, that he was going to live.
The beach was horribly loud. Marion remembered noise. “So much noise, you couldn’t get a feel for where you were,” he said. “Was this a dream?”
In the midst of the surreal drama, he managed to make his way closer, and closer to safety. The barrage of bullets seemed to lessen, and the next half-hour of his life was spent inching his way to cover. “Please, God, let me live,” he prayed. “Please, God, let my friends live.”
His story of that day on the beach at Salerno isn’t about heroics, and it isn’t about serendipity. It’s about a simple man from Texas who gave his life for his country. He followed the piper, Uncle Sam; he followed him to a beach where dozens of men, his friends, lost their lives. He knew someone had to go. He knew someone had to be willing to blaze the trail, to fight oppression – to die.
Death hasn’t come to Marion yet. His body’s still in good shape, even at 89. His progeny has multiplied and, thankfully, neither his children, nor their children, have had to witness war first-hand. “War does something to you,” he said. “It makes you appreciate life; it makes you appreciate your family. There’s nothing more dreadful than walking up to a village that’s been ravaged by war. Everything there is dead. People, birds, dogs…everything.”
by Eric N. Guel
Published U.S. Legacies Jan 2003
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