by Don Malarkey
Because of the Band of Brothers attention, I’ve taken trips everywhere. Lots of fun. Lots of memories. The other day I was at Wal-Mart and had on an Easy Company jacket, and this kid comes up to me as we’re getting our shopping carts and says, “You’re … you’re …”
“Don Malarkey,” I said. “Now you’d better take care of your shopping cart, son.”
The attention has been nice. It’s nice to know you haven’t been forgotten and to think somehow you left a mark on the world. Some people live their whole lives and can never really say they did anything for humanity. We did and can. But for all the attention, the darker side of war follows you. The wave is always there, building behind you, never going away. Ever since the march to Atlanta, I’ve had trouble walking at a quick pace or running. I get cold in December, even though Oregon rarely gets below thirty-five degrees. And I remember the guys we left behind. Every day, I remember.
But once, while walking the beach near Astoria, I saw these birds—puffins, I think—floating amid these giant waves that were about to break on them. And they did the damnedest thing: Knowing they couldn’t ignore those waves or outswim them, they turned and faced the swells head-on, dove right into them, realizing they’d be safer that way.
It was a good lesson for me.
Irene died in the spring of 2006 after a bout with breast cancer. We’d been married nearly sixty years, which is a long time, longer if you’re married to me. What a woman. People admired me for what I’d done, but they admired her for who she was. I think of a line from that crazy Engelbert Humperdinck song: “Thanks for taking me on a one-way trip to the sun.” I didn’t deserve someone so refined and dignified. Now, when I give my homemade jam to friends, every label says the same thing: “Oregon’s Wild Blackberries: Picked & Processed by Don Malarkey in Loving Memory of His Wife Irene.”
The year after she died was hell, especially Christmastime. But we’d had some great times. In the last twenty-five years, we’d gone to a lot of Easy Company reunions. She never begrudged me that stuff. Our house was—still is—filled with books and photos and posters about Easy Company; it’s just a helluva lot dirtier now that she’s not around. And lonelier. There’s a certain nobility, as the poem “Invictus” suggests, in being the “captain of your soul.” But when you’re alone, that me-against-the-world stuff isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
We had gone to Europe a handful of times, Irene and I, to see many of the places where Easy Company had been decades ago. Enough to fill eighty albums with photos. We spent an afternoon with Michel de Vallavielle, who had been twenty-four when we’d fought the Germans on his family’s farm, Brécourt Manor, in Normandy, and had accidentally been shot by one of our guys. He showed us the stains on the floor where two German officers had died four decades before—at the hands of Easy Company. And bites out of a rock wall, courtesy of my mortar firing. In 1984, we went to Charing Cross Road where the Palace Pub had once stood, where I’d spent so many afternoons shooting the bull with Pat McGrath. It was now some sort of fast-food restaurant.
We walked along the dikes of Hell’s Corner in Holland. In Eindhoven, in 2006, we were being honored—Dick Winters was being named an honorary citizen—and they had the British singer Vera Lynn singing the song she’d debuted in 1939, “We’ll Meet Again.”
We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when …
She hadn’t sung more than three words when I collapsed into an emotional heap. Bill Guarnere and Babe Heffron had to hold me up. Supposedly it was the last time she ever sang that song.
The first time I saw Skip Muck’s grave at the Luxembourg American Cemetery and Memorial, I just stood there and felt numb. I was with Dick Winters and Carwood Lipton, on a trip led by Stephen Ambrose. It was 1991. No tears. In fact, there’s a photo of three of us old vets standing at his grave and we’re all looking resolute. Soldiers, you know, posing for a picture taken by a historian who admired the hell out of us.
I returned there in 2004 and remembered how when Roe asked if I wanted to see Skip, I’d said no. And when Winters asked if I wanted a break, I’d said no. I realized that since those moments, I’d grieved for everybody I’d lost except for one man, the man whose death I’d tried for decades to run away from, the man whose loss had hit me harder than all the rest.
How many times had I looked at that 1942 photo of all of us at Toccoa, the one I’d written all the KIAs and SWAs on for those killed and seriously wounded, and thought, Why not me? Why no initials on my chest? Why not at Brécourt Manor, when I’d stupidly gone after what I thought was a Luger on that dead soldier? Or at Hell’s Corner, when German soldiers had our patrol outnumbered eight to three but wrongly assumed we had more firepower and surrendered to us? Or at Bastogne? If Winters hadn’t split Skip and me up, that would probably have been me, not Penkala, in that foxhole with Skip on January 9, 1944.
But even if I’ve played the what-if game often, I know, deep down, that you can never win at it. Better to remember that, for whatever reason—God or fate or reading a Reader’s Digest article about paratroopers on a Greyhound bus heading for Astoria—I was privileged to serve with a company of men who would make me far more than I would have been without them. And that losing one of those men had hurt so badly that I’d buried the thought of him, thinking that somehow that would help me avoid the pain.
Better, I’ve since learned, to turn into those waves and dive. So on that day in 2004 when I visited the cemetery where Skip is buried, I looked at that white marble cross and that name—Sgt. Warren H. Muck—and thought of the kid who swam the Niagara. The march to Atlanta. The smile. I knelt, placed flowers at the base of that cross. Prayed. All the things I’d done before when I’d come to see his grave. Only this time I did something different, long overdue, and hard but freeing.
I cried sixty years’ worth of tears.
AFTERWORD
After the HBO Band of Brothers series premiered in 2001, I began receiving invitations to speak at various business and educational meetings. On one occasion, a police academy training conference asked me to present my experiences in a leadership-training format. I was a bit taken aback, but thought it could be done. I contacted Vance Day, a good friend of mine and a local attorney, who had worked as a history teacher. I figured that he was familiar with putting together something along the lines of what the conference wanted. I was right. Vance jumped right into it and we created an ever-evolving presentation called Frontline Leadership.
We presented it first at the police academy conference, and we began getting calls from other police, firefighter, and military organizations. Frontline Leadership was adapted into various formats to fit different needs: after-dinner presentation, ninety-minute, four-hour, and eight-hour versions. Vance put together a course syllabus for those organizations needing class credit. Pretty soon we were giving the presentation three to four times a month. It was kind of a “Mutt and Jeff” show. Vance would run video clips and give the leadership theory side of the presentation. I would share stories from my Easy Company and life experiences that exemplified the points we were making. The two of us have a great deal of fun together, and the audiences enjoy it.
Since that initial event we have given the presentation, in one form or another, dozens of times. Vance and I have traveled Europe and North America together, lectured at the United States Military Academy at West Point, the Lazard Lecture Series, Focus on the Family’s National Family Policy Conference, the Heritage Foundation, the Family Research Council, in addition to various military bases and numerous organizations and educational institutions. Not a bad run. In May of 2005 we were asked to give Frontline Leadership on Capitol Hill for members of Congress, followed by a presentation to senior staff at the White House. Buck Compton joined us for Washington, D.C., events and on several other occasions. Bill Guarnere even joined on a trip to New York City to give a presentation.
I feel humbled by the attention, even a bit embarrassed. But then I remember that I owe it to
the guys who did not return. It’s as if I am keeping faith with them. Somehow, as I tell of their courage, trauma, and accomplishments, I am helping to establish a legacy of leadership for future generations. So many Americans have done so much that we might enjoy this liberty that we, and other nations, possess. Frontline Leadership brings home that point. It reminds people that we have such a rich heritage of sacrifice that not only demands our reverence, but calls us to leave a legacy. We are Americans—we lead and are looked to as leaders in the fight for liberty. We dare not shirk this responsibility.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Don Malarkey:
Thanks to the following people for helping me tell my story: Col. Mike Poell, Col. Terry Williams, James Lebold, Dale Shank, Jerry Sullivan, Leonard Tong, Jane Wiles, Bernice Franetovich DuLong (whose stage name was Bernice Franette), Terry Muir, Paul Isley, Tamil Edsall, Bill Van Dusen, Henry Yoshiki, Dan McNally, Tim Serean, John Hill, Tom Hill, Neil Everett Morfit, Lisa Penner, Sharon Keudell, Dr. David and Mary Kay Foster, and last, but not least, to all my grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
A special thanks to one of my truest and closest friends, Vance Day. Although half my age, he is like a brother to me, always encouraging, stretching, and challenging me. He’s helped me to work through the pain I’ve buried since the war. Without Vance’s tenacious prodding, this book would not have been written.
Bob Welch:
Thanks to those who edited the original manuscript: Ann Petersen, Ron Palmer, Pat Gariepy, and Sally Welch. To those who put pieces into the puzzle of who Don is: his daughters, Marianne McNally, Martha Serean, and Sharon Hill; Rod Bain, who served with Don in Easy Company; Pete Toye, son of Joe Toye; Eileen O’Hara, niece of Skip Muck; Bernice Franetovich DuLong, Don’s former girlfriend; and Richard Speight Jr., who played Skip Muck in the HBO miniseries, Band of Brothers. To Don’s son, Michael, for his assistance. To Vance Day, who not only helped edit, but served as a wonderful liaison between Don and me. And, finally, to Don himself, who began this project as my subject but wound up as my friend and a man I admire greatly.
Index
A
acrophobia, Malarkey’s
Aldbourne (England)
Alley, James
Ambrose, Stephen
American casualties
at Battle of the Bulge
on D-day
Easy Company at D-day and after
in Holland
last rites to
surviving brother sent home
Anet, Bobby
Animal House (movie)
Antwerp
Ardennes Forest
Army Air Corps, Malarkey’s pilot-training exam for
Arnheim (Holland)
Mad Colonel of (Dobey)
“Arnheim Annie,”
Astor, John Jacob
Astoria (Oregon)
description of
ferries commandeered at
Malarkey’s boyhood in
Astoria Fishermen
Astoria Regatta
Astor Street (Astoria)
Atlanta (Georgia), battalion’s forced march to
atomic bomb
B
Bain, Rod
in Battle of the Bulge
later contact between Malarkey and
Band of Brothers (Ambrose)
Band of Brothers (HBO miniseries)
“band of brothers,”
basketball
Bastogne
101st surrounded at
Malarkey at
“NUTS” answer to Germans at
Battle of the Bulge
American retreat at
clear skies and air drops at
Malmédy massacre
See also Bastogne
Bay, Jack
Beaufort tank busters
Belke, Frederick
Bellino, Salvatore
Berchtesgaden
Bernat, Edward
Beyond Band of Brothers (Winters)
Bizory
Bloser, Robert
Bois Jacques (“Jack’s Woods”)
Bomba the Jungle Boy
bow and arrow
Boyle, Leo
Brecourt Manor
Brewer, Bob
Bronze Star with Oak Leaf Cluster, Malarkey’s
Brown, Eugene
in Battle of the Bulge
Burgess, Thomas
C
C-47 transport
Caesar, Julius
Camp Mackall (North Carolina)
Carentan
Carson, Gordie
Causeways One and Two
Centralia (Washington)
Champagne Bowl
Chattahoochee National Forest
Cherbourg
Chilton Foliat (England)
Chi Psi fraternity
Christmas 1944
Churchill, Winston
Clatsop County, Malarkey as commissioner of
Clatsop Spit
College Side Inn
Collins, Herman
Columbia River
mining of
salmon in
Commercial Avenue (Astoria)
Commercial Street (Astoria)
Compton, Lynn “Buck,”
in Battle of the Bulge
in D-day and after
in Holland
later contact between Malarkey and
later false evaluation of
at Mourmelon-le-Grand
Cotenin Peninsula
Cow Creek Valley
Coxcomb Hill (Astoria)
Cudlitz, Michael
Currahee, Mount
D
Dallas
Davenport, Richard
Day, Laraine
Day, Vance
D-day
American loss of howitzers on
French help on
Malarkey meets Portland German on
passwords and “crickets” on
preparations and takeoff for
Sherman tanks on
D-Day Museum (Utah Beach)
Depression, the
Dewey, Thomas
Dickerson, Bill
Dike, Norman, Jr.
in Battle of the Bulge
Distinguished Service Cross
Maloney’s
Winters’
Dobey, O.
Dormagen
Dorsey, Tommy
Douve River
draft, the
Driel (Holland)
“drumming out” ceremony
Dukeman, William
DuLong, Bernice
Franetovich. See also Franetovich, Bernice
E
Eagle’s Nest, Hitler’s
Eckert, Cecil (uncle)
82nd Airborne Division
Eindhoven (Holland)
Malarkey’s postwar collapse at
Eisenhower, Dwight
D-day message of
D-day postponed by
election of 1944
11th Armored Division
Elliott, George
England
afternoon closing of pubs in
506th Parachute Regiment in
food and weather in
return to, after D-day
See also Aldbourne; London
Eugene (Oregon)
Evans, Williams
Evening Astorian Budget,
F
Fairbanks, Douglas
Fayetteville (North Carolina)
FBI (Federal Bureau of Investigation)
1st Airborne Division (British)
1st General Hospital
501st Parachute Regiment
502nd Parachute Regiment
504th Parachute Regiment
505th Parachute Regiment
506th Parachute Regiment
battle cry of
chaplain of. See Maloney, John
on D-day
jump
preparations for
Easy Company of (E Company) artillery observation
>
attacked near Carentan
in Battle of the Bulge
days on front line
demonstration jump by
description of
in Germany
in Holland
inactivation
Malarkey assigned to
memorial service
photographs
Polish gun crew
possible mutiny by
Presidential Citations of
rescue in Holland
return to England after D-day
reunions
Sobel dismissed as commander
unclaimed laundry
forced march to Atlanta by
organization of
parachute training of
possible Japanese deployment of
POW Interrogation Team
Presidential Citation of
trip to Europe by
washout rate of
507th Parachute Regiment
forest fire
Fort Benning (Georgia)
Malarkey at
Fort Bragg (North Carolina)
Fort Campbell (Kentucky)
Fort Clatsop
Fort Dix (NewJersey)
Fort Lewis (Washington)
4th Infantry Division
Foy
American capture of
Franetovich, Bernice
letters to
Malarkey’s plan to marry
other names of
singing career of
Franetovich, Louie
Franette, Bernice. See also Franetovich, Bernice Freeman, Bradford
Frontline Leadership (presentation by Malarkey)
G
Gamma Phi Beta sorority
German language
German prisoners
at Battle of the Bulge
on D-day
in Holland
killing of
after Battle of the Bulge
Germany
Easy Company in
Malarkey’s prewar reading about
occupation of
surrender of (V-E day)
Glaser, Einar