Post by Deleted on May 13, 2009 8:58:24 GMT -5
I just received word Congress has authorized renaming the Nampa, Idaho Post Office in honor of Herbert Littleton. In 1984 I wrote a story about why Herbie Littleton deserves to be remembered. I consider it some of my best work. Thought you might enjoy it.
By Wayne Cornell
"For conduct above and beyond the call of duty ... "
In the 124 years since it was created by an act of Congress, the Congressional Medal of Honor has been awarded to only 3,414 Americans. Only 1,457 such awards have been presented in this century.
The Medal of Honor and the word "hero" go together. The men and women who have received the nation's highest award have one thing in common. The recipients performed acts of valor with total disregard for their own well-being. In many cases the medal was awarded to soldiers who single-handedly held the enemy at bay, deciding the outcome of a battle. But the award has been given for other reasons.
The letter Lillian Littleton of Nampa received came from Camp Pendleton, Calif.
"The Marine Corps wishes to name a street in a new housing area at Camp Pendleton after your son, Herbert " the letter said.
On Nov. 30, 1984, Lillian Littleton cried as she watched the dedication of "Littleton Court" at the sprawling Marine facility near San Diego. Standing next to her was retired Marine Major Bill Donovan, a man who had good reason to remember her son.
The "Corps" doesn't forget its heroes, especially heroes like Herbie Littleton.
Lillian Littleton laid the scrapbook on the table in her Nampa home. She talked about her two older sons, both retired, who live in the East, and about her husband Paul, who died in 1975. And she talked about Herbert.
"It must have been around 1945," she remembered. "Herbert was only about 15 at the time. He needed $5 for something. We didn't have it. He went down to the bank and wrote out a note for $5 and they loaned him the money. He paid them back $5.25. I still have the note."
The young man in the hand-colored photograph was smiling. It was the kind of smile a Marine has when he puts on his “dress blues" for the first time. The white cap was cocked at a jaunty angle on his head.
"He was very quiet, but he was a happy kid. On the Fourth of July we would buy firecrackers for the boys. He would always put his away. He wouldn't shoot them off. It made him sick at his stomach."
The scrapbook contained two yellowed telegrams. The first was the message all mothers who have sons at war fear. The second informed the family that the president of the United States, Harry S. Truman. had posthumously awarded Herbert the Congressional Medal of Honor.
Lillian Littleton held the medal out to her visitor. It was an award befitting a real hero, not gaudy or overwhelming. The star-shaped medallion was attached to a light blue ribbon decorated with small white stars. Her son's name was engraved on the back.
The mother had only recently received the medal. Since 1974 it had been on display in Spearfish, S.D. at a monument constructed by the Veterans of Foreign Wars honoring her son. She noted the Dakota monument isn't the only one to Herbert. In South Korea there is a recreation field named in his honor.
The newspaper clippings in the scrapbook make it clear why the 78-year-old woman's son was worthy of two memorials and why he received the Medal of Honor and the Bronze Star.
Herbert Littleton was too young to serve in World War ll. But as soon as he was old enough he became a member of a South Dakota Marine. Reserve unit. In the late 1940s the Littleton family moved to Nampa. They had been in Idaho only a short time when the Korean Conflict broke-out. Herbert was one of the thousands of young men called to serve. .
Private First Class Littleton was assigned to serve as a radio operator in the artillery observation team of Company C, 1st Battalion, 7th Marines of the famed 1st Marine Division.
On the night of April 22, 1951, Charlie Company was dug in on a barren Korean hillside. The Marines had reason to believe the enemy was near. Standard procedure was followed. The forward observation team was sent out in front of the main defense perimeter to provide early warning. If an assault did come, it would be the job of the team to call artillery fire down on the attackers.
Second Lieutenant Bill Donovan, the leader of the observation team, took additional precautions. He sent Pfc. Littleton, known to the men as "Herbie," to a nearby hilltop to establish a listening post. If Littleton saw sign of movement he was to notify Donovan who would bring the rest of the team forward.
The night passed slowly. At one point Donovan suspected his forward observer might be dozing and "chewed him out," telling him to stay awake.
Eventually, movement was detected. Flares were fired, illuminating the countryside and revealing crouched figures moving forward toward the Marines. Lieutenant Donovan and the team ran toward Littleton's position. When they arrived, they began setting up to call in fire from the big guns located far behind the lines.
Suddenly there was the sound of a heavy object hitting the ground near the group of men. They looked down. It was a communist hand grenade.
"Look out, Lieutenant! " shouted Littleton.
The citation that accompanied Herbert Littleton's Medal of Honor probably best describes what happened next.
"When an enemy hand grenade was thrown into his vantage point shortly after the arrival of the remainder of the team he hurled himself on the deadly missile, absorbing the full shattering impact with his own body."
Herbert J. Littleton, age 20, the quiet young man who wouldn't shoot off firecrackers on July 4, sacrificed his own life so his comrades could live.
Shortly after the Korean War ended, an author published a book on unusual acts of heroism by men at war. Herbie Littleton was included in the book.
At the end of the story the author noted, "In life he was a private first class. In death he went down as a man first class."
Her son's sacrifice 34 years ago is still hard for Lillian Littleton to discuss. But when she holds the medal, a visitor can detect a certain pride.
"Something like this brings it all back," the Nampa mother said. "I am truly proud my son was a Marine. They are the best ... The honor is nice, but I would rather have him back."
By Wayne Cornell
"For conduct above and beyond the call of duty ... "
In the 124 years since it was created by an act of Congress, the Congressional Medal of Honor has been awarded to only 3,414 Americans. Only 1,457 such awards have been presented in this century.
The Medal of Honor and the word "hero" go together. The men and women who have received the nation's highest award have one thing in common. The recipients performed acts of valor with total disregard for their own well-being. In many cases the medal was awarded to soldiers who single-handedly held the enemy at bay, deciding the outcome of a battle. But the award has been given for other reasons.
The letter Lillian Littleton of Nampa received came from Camp Pendleton, Calif.
"The Marine Corps wishes to name a street in a new housing area at Camp Pendleton after your son, Herbert " the letter said.
On Nov. 30, 1984, Lillian Littleton cried as she watched the dedication of "Littleton Court" at the sprawling Marine facility near San Diego. Standing next to her was retired Marine Major Bill Donovan, a man who had good reason to remember her son.
The "Corps" doesn't forget its heroes, especially heroes like Herbie Littleton.
Lillian Littleton laid the scrapbook on the table in her Nampa home. She talked about her two older sons, both retired, who live in the East, and about her husband Paul, who died in 1975. And she talked about Herbert.
"It must have been around 1945," she remembered. "Herbert was only about 15 at the time. He needed $5 for something. We didn't have it. He went down to the bank and wrote out a note for $5 and they loaned him the money. He paid them back $5.25. I still have the note."
The young man in the hand-colored photograph was smiling. It was the kind of smile a Marine has when he puts on his “dress blues" for the first time. The white cap was cocked at a jaunty angle on his head.
"He was very quiet, but he was a happy kid. On the Fourth of July we would buy firecrackers for the boys. He would always put his away. He wouldn't shoot them off. It made him sick at his stomach."
The scrapbook contained two yellowed telegrams. The first was the message all mothers who have sons at war fear. The second informed the family that the president of the United States, Harry S. Truman. had posthumously awarded Herbert the Congressional Medal of Honor.
Lillian Littleton held the medal out to her visitor. It was an award befitting a real hero, not gaudy or overwhelming. The star-shaped medallion was attached to a light blue ribbon decorated with small white stars. Her son's name was engraved on the back.
The mother had only recently received the medal. Since 1974 it had been on display in Spearfish, S.D. at a monument constructed by the Veterans of Foreign Wars honoring her son. She noted the Dakota monument isn't the only one to Herbert. In South Korea there is a recreation field named in his honor.
The newspaper clippings in the scrapbook make it clear why the 78-year-old woman's son was worthy of two memorials and why he received the Medal of Honor and the Bronze Star.
Herbert Littleton was too young to serve in World War ll. But as soon as he was old enough he became a member of a South Dakota Marine. Reserve unit. In the late 1940s the Littleton family moved to Nampa. They had been in Idaho only a short time when the Korean Conflict broke-out. Herbert was one of the thousands of young men called to serve. .
Private First Class Littleton was assigned to serve as a radio operator in the artillery observation team of Company C, 1st Battalion, 7th Marines of the famed 1st Marine Division.
On the night of April 22, 1951, Charlie Company was dug in on a barren Korean hillside. The Marines had reason to believe the enemy was near. Standard procedure was followed. The forward observation team was sent out in front of the main defense perimeter to provide early warning. If an assault did come, it would be the job of the team to call artillery fire down on the attackers.
Second Lieutenant Bill Donovan, the leader of the observation team, took additional precautions. He sent Pfc. Littleton, known to the men as "Herbie," to a nearby hilltop to establish a listening post. If Littleton saw sign of movement he was to notify Donovan who would bring the rest of the team forward.
The night passed slowly. At one point Donovan suspected his forward observer might be dozing and "chewed him out," telling him to stay awake.
Eventually, movement was detected. Flares were fired, illuminating the countryside and revealing crouched figures moving forward toward the Marines. Lieutenant Donovan and the team ran toward Littleton's position. When they arrived, they began setting up to call in fire from the big guns located far behind the lines.
Suddenly there was the sound of a heavy object hitting the ground near the group of men. They looked down. It was a communist hand grenade.
"Look out, Lieutenant! " shouted Littleton.
The citation that accompanied Herbert Littleton's Medal of Honor probably best describes what happened next.
"When an enemy hand grenade was thrown into his vantage point shortly after the arrival of the remainder of the team he hurled himself on the deadly missile, absorbing the full shattering impact with his own body."
Herbert J. Littleton, age 20, the quiet young man who wouldn't shoot off firecrackers on July 4, sacrificed his own life so his comrades could live.
Shortly after the Korean War ended, an author published a book on unusual acts of heroism by men at war. Herbie Littleton was included in the book.
At the end of the story the author noted, "In life he was a private first class. In death he went down as a man first class."
Her son's sacrifice 34 years ago is still hard for Lillian Littleton to discuss. But when she holds the medal, a visitor can detect a certain pride.
"Something like this brings it all back," the Nampa mother said. "I am truly proud my son was a Marine. They are the best ... The honor is nice, but I would rather have him back."
