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dot Fm, slash Plus. Now onto the episode. On a warm day in spring nineteen forty three, a woman stepped forward, raised her right hand and took an oath. She was dressed in a neatly tailored uniform, sharp shoulders and insignia pinon eche lapel. Her dark hair was carefully curled, her mouth a slash of red lipstick. She was in her late slim with perfect posture. Her face was lined with grief. Just an hour before, she had received the Medal of
Honor on behalf of her only son. He had been a member of the Coast Guard, killed in battle at just twenty two years old. It was the middle of wartime, so there was no big medal ceremony. She had met
with President Franklin Delano Roosevelt in the Oval Office. From behind his desk, Fdr had dropped the medal into her outstretched hand, and then she traveled three short blocks to the headquarters of the United States Coast Guard, where she stood and swore an oath to support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic. It was the same promise her son had made. He had given his life to serve his country. Now his
mother was entering the fight. I'm Malcolm Gabwell and this is Medal of Honor Stories of Courage. The Medal of Honor is the highest military decoration in the United States, awarded for gallantry and bravery in combat at the risk of life, above and beyond the call of duty. Each candidate must be approved all the way up the chain of command, from the supervisory officer in the field to the highest office in our nation. Not just approved by the Secretary of Defense, it has to be agreed to
by the President. This show is about those heroes, what they did, what it meant, and what their stories tell us about the nature of courage and sacrifice. Today we're telling the story of Douglas Monroe. Out of the two hundred and fifty thousand members of the United States Coast Guard who served in World War II, he was the only one awarded a Medal of Honor. In fact, he is still the only member of the Coast Guard to
have gotten the medal because of one simple fact. In nineteen forty two, he saved an estimated five hundred marines from death on the island of Guadalcanal. And yes, yes, you heard that right, five hundred. The story of Doug's heroism is told to every man and woman who joins the United States Coast Guard. The Coastguard's headquarters are named
after him. A legend class Cutter ship is too. He's the only non marine honored in the Wall of Heroes at the National Museum of the Marine Corps, and every year for the past five decades, the Navy League has given out the Douglas A. Munroe Inspirational Leadership Award to the person whose leadership and selflessness reflects the essence of who Doug was. And there's a reason that his story resonates so deeply. It's about more than what he did
that day in Guadalcanal. Usually, the Medal of Honor celebrates a particular kind of leader. The lone man out on the front lines. In this episode, I want to think about a different kind of leader ship, a quieter kind, one that isn't built on enforcing a hierarchy, but on the opposite service to others and a depth of connection that lasts for decades. The day after the attack on Pearl Harbor, Fdr adjusts.
Congress December nineteen forty one, a date which will live in infamy. The United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan.
Japan had launched attacks on Hong Kong, the Philippines, Guam, Wake Island, and Midway.
It was war.
As Commander in Chief of the Army and Navy, I have directed that all measures be taken for our defense, no no matter how long it may take us overcome this premeditated invasion. The American people, in their righteous might, will win through to absolute picture.
All this at the stage for the conflict Doug Monroe would find himself in Right away. The military focused on the Pacific Ocean. It was a race between the Japanese forces and the Allies to dominate strategic South Pacific islands. Because whoever controlled those would control the supplying communications lines
between the US and our allies in Australia. One of America's first targets was the Solomon Islands, a tiny chain one thousand miles east of Papua New Guinea, in particular a small airfield on the biggest of those islands, Guadalcanal.
All the forces that controlled Guadalcanal command the approaches to Australia, all mastery of the skies over the vitally important Solomon Islands.
Japanese troops were already there, gaining a stronger foothold by the day the Americans had to stop their progress. In the early hours of August seventh, nineteen forty two, a fleet of more than fifty U S. Navy warships silently converged on the Solomon Islands. As the sun rose, Allied planes bombed the enemy, then Marines stormed ashore. Within a couple of days, the smaller islands were under Allied control, but not cordicanal. The Allies secured the airfield, but the
enemy soldiers just regrouped, moving back further inland. Japanese aircraft tangled with Navy flyers overhead, dropping bombs on battleships and transport boats. The US was losing valuable planes and warships, so the Naval Aircraft Carrier Fleet decided to withdraw from the battle days before they were supposed to. With no air cover, the remaining ships were dangerously exposed bombed constantly, so the rest of the battleships had no choice but
to retreat to safety as well. Here's the thing, the Solomon Islands campaign was a logistical nightmare, thousands of miles away from Allied land. When the battleships retreated, they left so fast they took half the supplies for Guadalcanal with them, food, medicine, equipment, the works. The remaining troops were essentially stranded. They were going to have to make do with what little they
had for weeks. The military planners had optimistically named the Solomon Islands invasion Operation Watchtower, but as the Marines started scavenging for gear and food, they renamed it Operation Shoe String. It would prove to be one of the trickiest, most disorganized, and most lethal battlegrounds of the entire war. The Allied forces on Guadalcanal came down with danngy fever, and dysentery.
They were clouds of malaria bearing mosquitoes, and most crucially, they faced an enemy whose home country was much much closer, which meant that the Japanese were constantly getting fresh troops. If the US couldn't hold its operation together on a logistical level, there was no chance of victory. And at Guadalcanal, responsibility for the most important logistical question of all moving men into battle fell to the Coast Guard, and one man in particular, the only member of the Coast Guard
ever to win a Medal of honor, Douglas Monroe. Doug Monroe was born in nineteen nineteen and grew up in the little town of South clay Ellam, Washington. He did all the usual all American kid stuff, boy scout, basketball, trific dancer, a skinny kid would, slick back hair, and a big devilish grin. But he was maybe best known for one thing. His friendships had super close pals, and that gift for connection extended to a deep sense of community.
He was in the Bugle Corps, and he volunteered to play tops at the South clay Elham Cemetery to honor local veterans. His oldest sister Patricia remembers it well.
And he used to go out up at the cemetery on Veterans Day and he would go way out in the woods and he would play the echo on the bugle to taps, and he said he used to enjoy doing that for the vets.
This to me is a quintessential Doug story. He's doing something out of a sense of duty and obligation for a group of people, but they can't even see him. It's not about the recognition. This was during the Great Depression, remember, and the little town of South clay Elam was hit hard. So Doug recruited one of his best buddies, Mike Cooley, to gather and split forward and deliver it to people who couldn't afford it. Then he watched as the war began in Europe. He already had the instinct to serve
his country. His mom, Edith, came from a military family. One of her brothers had fought in World War One and served for years as lieutenant colonel in the Canadian Army, but the idea of her son willingly enlisting came as a rather unwelcome surprise when Doug mentioned it one night at dinner, she dropped her fork under her plate. He knew enough to change the subject, but Doug was undeterred. The only question to him was which arm of the military to join.
So he had pals and various branches of the service who wanted him to come with them, and he checked it all out, and he said he was going to join the Coast Guard because he said they saved.
Lives, saving not taking lives. That's what Doug believed in, and that's what the Coast Guard had been doing since nineteen fifteen. It was and still is the smallest of the armed forces, a nimble force focused on marine's safety, search and rescue, maritime law enforcement. If the name Tavy ruled the seas, the Coast Guard protected them. Doug joined up, and so did a young man named Ray Evans his Ray.
They called me back in September and said are you still interested? We've got seven openings, and I said, yes, I am. When I got to the Federal Building on September eighteenth, Doug Monroe was there and that's how it started.
That's how it started. Doug met Ray, the man who would be his best friend and the person who would be in the boat with him the day he saved those five hundred marines. We'll get to that after the break. Just before his twentieth birthday, Doug Monroe joined the Coast Guard and met Ray Evans. He and Ray were inseparable. They were so close that everyone referred to them as the gold Dust Twins.
In those days, the soap was called a gold Dust Twins, you know, and the twins on the label, and that's what they called us. And many times couldn't tell us a part. I mean, it didn't look alike, but they wouldn't mix us up.
The US, meanwhile, was inching ever closer to war. In nineteen forty one, the Navy, preparing for the conflict, tapped the Coastguard to train on their best weapon for amphibious warfare, Higgins boats. Higgins boats had just been developed as a new way to get troops and needed supplies onto beaches quickly and nimbly.
You all know by now the nature of amphibious war, a combined land and sea operation against the enemy. Landing craft furnished that vital link between sea and shore, between the transports and the enemy beach.
You could run them right up on the sand. They're those boats. You see in d Day footage. They could hold thirty six fully armed men, with a ramp at the front to let the troops off quickly, and two machine guns at the rear. The problem was that the Navy crews couldn't handle maneuvering the litle Higgins's boats into
the surf. It just wasn't what they did. Coastguardsmen, however, were the most expert small boat handlers in government service, so in an amphibious attack, the coast Guard wasn't just part of the battle. Without them, there wouldn't have been a battle at all. It wasn't the most glamorous role, of course, it's all logistics, no glory, But glory wasn't what the Coastguard was about. Connection was Doug raised his hand to be part of the Higgins boat training. He
always wanted to be more useful. Ray volunteered as well, and according to Ray, Doug wasn't just great at it, he was legendary. They called those specialized sailors. Coxin's Coxin is spelled like it ought to be pronounced coxway, but actually it's an Old English word. Like a lot of old English words, It's pronounced in a totally nutty way like Worcestershire sauce.
Look it up.
Is that how you thought Worcestershire is spelled anyway? Coxon has an old English definition. It means literally boat servant, and that makes sense. A coxon is the person who steers the boat and is responsible for taking care of everyone on the boat. It's a mix of two things, a leader and a servant. These days, if you're in the business world, you've probably heard it called servant leadership. But if you were in the Coastguard world, it didn't
come with all the business branding. It was just something that you did. I mean, here's Admiral Linda Fagen, commandant of the US Coast Guard.
I define leadership as showing up as confidence leavened with humility, and creating the environment where others can succeed and eliminating any barriers to their success.
Linda Fagan is just a badass, the first woman to lead the Coastguard. But she's not talking about barking orders and basking in the glory. She's talking about creating an environment where leaders so of others and create positive change. That's the Coastguard in a nutshell, protecting people and in doing so, making connections that become part of a lasting, long reaching chain.
Of good works.
It's a creed that came naturally to Doug, and he was about to have to put it to test. At Guadalcanal. It was six weeks into the invasion of Guadalcanal. Supplies were short and men were surviving on rice and dried fish the Japanese troops had left behind. There were torrential rains, swarms of black flies and mosquitoes, leeches and scorpions, crocodiles. Doug Monro's friend Ray Evans remembers exactly how bad it was.
He ended up with malaria, and there was a lot of dysentery and dangy fever. And it's jungle, you know. It was a mean place. It was a mean place.
The gold Dust twins both had malaria, but it didn't seem to slow them down. They built themselves a little house out of scrap materials and packing boxes, one of the only houses on the base with actual screens in the windows. Doug was in charge of Guadalcanal's contingent of Higgins boats and was the go to person whenever anyone had questioned about them. The Marines loved him, how skilled he was, how seriously he took the responsibility of protecting them.
Everyone trusted him as a leader, despite the fact that he was only twenty two. But it was clear that things on Guadalcanal couldn't keep going the way they were going. The Allies worried that the Japanese forces might eventually get strong enough to run them off the island, so that the commanding officers decided it was time to take decisive action.
On September twenty seventh, nineteen forty two, the Marines launched an attack on enemy held territory along the Metanco River at a spot called Point Cruise.
The next thing I know, commanders telling us that Doug and I that they were going to send this battalion. I guess it was a battalion of Marines to land at Point Cruise.
The Marines loaded onto the coast guards little Higgins boats and they had it out. Things went sideways from the start. The troop transports couldn't land where they were supposed to.
Unfortunately, they were supposed to land at the head of the cove, and we found the coral would not allow us to do that, so we had to make an abrupt right turn and land on the beach.
The fleet of boats led by Doug dropped the Marines and headed back to base. The men who landed were supposed to meet up with two other of the groups of Marines, the Fifth and the Raiders, but those two groups couldn't make it to the meeting point. They had been decimated and driven back by Japanese troops. Because here's the thing, the Allies had thought there were only roughly four hundred enemy soldiers on the whole island, they were closer to four thousand. Marines had been dropped into a
situation that was way worse than they imagined. The Japanese had anticipated their arrival and prepared battalions of infantry and machine guns on the ridge overlooking their landing site. William Shanahan, one of the Marines who was there that day, remembers it clearly.
The Japanese had moved in behind us, between us and the beach, so we were effectively trapped there.
Shots were coming from every corner. Motor shells exploded all around them, blasting men through the air. Their leader, Major Rogers, was killed instantly, and then a seemingly endless number of Japanese soldiers was coming over the hill. Even worse, the Marines didn't have any way to call for help. Here's another Marine who was there that day, Mac McLeod.
We didn't bring a radio with us, and we didn't know that the Fifth Marines code got across and the they couldn't get a cross. So in the fact we lay on there and before guard man and everybody without any help.
But the Marines are nothing if not resourceful, right They took off their white undershirts and spelled out help on the ground, and a dive bomber flying overhead saw it. Doug and Ray had just gotten back to the base when they saw their commander running towards them. He was waiting a piece of paper and yelling something they couldn't hear over the throttle of the engines. Doug turned to Ray with a sardonic smile and said, whatever he's yelling about,
it ain't good. The commander wanted to know would they be willing to go back and rescue the Marines. It wasn't an order, it was a question.
Word came down that they had to be evacuated, and so back we go as usual.
Doug led the boats a group of about ten landing craft. He knew exactly what kind of nightmare he was going into.
On a beach at that time. What was just the most chaotic place you would imagine, with all the shells falling in, the machine gun fire, water fire, and nobody in his right mind which got a boat to come in voluntarily to get us, But they did. They came in.
As the landing craft approached the beach, enemy mortar fire caused giant eruptions of seawater that towered over the Higgins boats. One hit another. Dug and Ray were in the same boat, and they braced themselves as the water crashed down on them. Machine gun fires strafed the hull. One of the other boats pulled next to Dug and Ray and someone yelled that they should return to base. Doug pointed his finger at the beach and yelled back, were.
Not leaving them there, We're going in.
The group of boats pulled as close to the shore as they could get. Within minutes, nearly five hundred marines poured out of the jungle and dove into the water. They were exhausted, dragging the dead and the wounded, and they were well under attack from Japanese machine guns along one side of the beach, so Doug positioned his craft
in between the incoming enemy fire and the Marines. He pointed the boat's machine gun to shore and began firing at the enemy and giving the Marines cover as they swam to the waiting boats.
Doug said, we had two air cool Lowis machine guns between us, so we elected to stay on one boat with the two guns and act as kind of a covering fire hill. We sent the rest of the boats into load E Street.
Here's William Shanahan again.
There are people would have been sitting ducks going out to the boats, and so when he engaged them, it gave us the leeway to get the rest of our people off the beach.
The boats were finally loaded with the rescued Marines. They started back to base, Doug and Ray with the last to leave, but as they turned arounded one of the boats had gotten stuck on a coral reef. Those Marines were back into water trying to rock it loose. Back in the line of fire again, Doug steered his boat over to hell. They had to move quickly. The enemy was repositioning their guns, getting them in their sights. Finally the boat was free.
But then I saw this line of water spouts coming across the water, and I yelled a Doug to get down. He couldn't hear me over the engine noise.
A stream of bullets ran across the surface of the ocean, straight towards their boat.
And it hit him. There was one burst afire.
Doug was shot in the back of the neck at the base of his skull. He crumpled to the deck. Ray took the wheel and raced the boat back to base. He drove it up on the beach, and then he knelt down and cradled his best friend's head in his lap. Doug opened his eyes.
He said, did they get off? And that's about all he said. He died. I don't think he ever heard me answer. That's sky a guy who was He wanted to complete things.
Doug wanted to finish the mission he had volunteered to lead. He made certain the men were ferried home to safety. He was serving those men in his boat, the men on the beach, Even when he couldn't stand at the wheel, he was still acting on their behalf. The definition of a servant.
Leader without him and the leadership that he exhibited, and bringing all his boats in and assembling them that began when and bringing them in, I saved a hell of a lot of lives, including my own.
Doug Monroe saved and estimated five hundred marines a day he died. He was two weeks shy of his twenty third birthday. Three weeks later, on the afternoon of October nineteenth, Edith Monroe looked out her living room window and saw three uniformed officers, two Navy and one Coastguard approaching her front door. They knocked. She pretended not to hear it. Doug's father, James, entered the room. They knocked again. Edith begged James not to open the door. She knew what
this visit meant. Edith waited until the officers had left before she broke down in tears. She wanted to channel her grief into something positive to honor her son's service. In November of that year, she learned that the Coastguard would start accepting women in their ranks. They called them spars. Edith immediately asked to join. She was forty seven, a grieving gold star mother. The Coastguard brosse were skeptical to say the least, but Doug got his persistence.
From his mom. I guess she wore them down.
Within weeks, Edith was traveling across the country to Officer Canada training at the Coast Guard Academy in New London, Connecticut. She was one of the first women to show up, and the oldest by a couple of decades. The training included not dying military drill, seamanship, and small boat operations. Edith's first letter to Doug's sister Patricia read pat this
would kill you and it might kill me. And then in May nineteen forty three, the same day Doug was awarded his Medal of Honor, she took the Coastguard oath of Office, the same one her son had taken just four years earlier. She was a lieutenant junior grade. The Coast Guard was happy to have her as a kind of spokeswoman, but Edith insisted on a bigger contribution. I'll be surprised. She was the one who raised Doug Monroe, so they made her the commanding officer of the Seattle Barracks.
Affectionately nicknamed the Old Lady, she established new regulation to make it easier for women recruits. She was one of the Coastguard's first gender policy advisers. She was way ahead of her time. Like her son, Edith was always game to do more. In November of nineteen forty three, she was quoted Neela Times saying, if legislation is acted upon, which will let spars serve overseas, I want to be one of the first to go across. We women can fight.
We're proving that every day here on the home front. By the time the war was over, she'd won a Commendation Medal. And then, of course there's Ray, Doug's gold dust twin. Ray was awarded the Navy Cross for his actions at Guadalcanal. He stayed on in the Coast Guard, eventually retiring as a commander. He died in twenty thirteen at the age of ninety two. He missed Doug until the end.
Never have had as good a friends since then. You know, one that close. You never think about dying, even in that situation, with the war going on, in bullets flying around, you don't really think about it. You just knew the job. I guess you anticipate that you're going to be okay, and then one day one of you isn't it's pretty tough.
Ray would tell you what any member of the military would tell you. Doug might technically have volunteered for that rescue mission, but he didn't see it as a choice. He and Ray were coxins there to lead and to serve. They put themselves in harm's way because that was the promise they had made to the men in those boats and to themselves.
We were asked to take them over there, we were asked to bring them back off of there, and that's what we did. That's what the Coast Guard does.
This is the thing about servant leadership. It's not about leading by fear or even by example. It's about protecting the people you're leading and protecting the connection between them. The way a coxin coordinates the action of a boat. That's who Doug was, pointing his ship home, even when he could no longer stand at its wheel. The long chain of Doug's connections started even before his.
Time in the Coast Guard.
Remember Mike Cooley, the friend who gave away firewood with Doug, joined the Depression. He served his country in the army, and years later returned to South Glayellam. He visited Doug's grave and was surprised and saddened to see that the American flag flying over it was tattered. So he honored his friend by buying a new flag and raising it at the gravesite in the morning, lowering it in the evening, walking six miles round trip to the cemetery twice a
day every day for forty years. He did it until well into his eighties, inspired by what Doug stood for his sacrifice, his caring. That to me is the essence of servant leadership. I think maybe Mike put it best.
You know what you what I'm saying, When you do a fair for somebody and do something good, you feel good inside.
So that makes me feel good inside.
See Medal of Honor. Stories of Courage is written by Meredith Rollins and produced by Meredith Rollins, Constanza Galardo, and Izzy Carter. The show is edited by Ben Dafh Haffrey, Sound design and additional music by Jake Gorski, recording engineering by Nita Lawrence, fact checking by Arthur Gombert's original music by Eric Phillips. If you want to learn more about our Medal of Honor recipients, follow us on Instagram and Twitter. We'll be sharing photos and videos of the heroes featured
on the show. We'd also love to hear from you, dm us with a story about a courageous veteran in your life. If you don't know a veteran, I'd love to hear a story of how courage was contagious in your own life. You can find us at Pushkin Bonds. I'm your host, Malcolm Gamwell.