As President Harry Truman presented Desmond Doss with the Congressional Medal of Honor, he said, “I consider this a greater honor than being president.” Desmond earned the Medal on the Pacific Front in World War II, at the Maeda Escarpment—nicknamed “Hacksaw Ridge,” by the soldiers—during the Battle of Okinawa.
Mel Gibson’s 2016 movie Hacksaw Ridge portrayed Doss’s unique road to military glory. Desmond never touched a weapon in Japan. He was a medic, and his Seventh-Day Adventist faith inspired him to flee from inflicting violence. But he was no coward. Armed with gauze and medicine, he marched shoulder-to-shoulder with the other soldiers, pulling the wounded out of danger. When an attempt to take the Maeda Escarpment ended in disaster, all the Americans fled, abandoning the wounded in their hasty retreat. All fled, save one.
Doss remained on the battlefield through the night, surrounded by Japanese troops, stealthily saving any wounded man he could find. Every second he spent on the Ridge was mortal danger, and he stayed for twelve racking hours roping men down from the ridge and into safety.
What struck me most about Doss’s heroism in the face of danger was his simple prayer. Desmond said that all night he begged God, “Lord, please help me get one more.”
Just one more. After he saved a man, he longed to find another. He prayed for the strength to do it one more time. Rough rope lacerated his bare hands; gear wore down his weary legs; mud and blood caked his depleted body. Still, Desmond sought one more man. He found seventy-five.
There’s something sublime about Desmond’s singular search for those soldiers. Yes, he wanted them all, but his will was locked on finding just one, one terrified man whose hope had fled when he saw his company retreat without him. Desmond’s night on the Ridge was not a single, sweeping deed, rather it was seventy-five acts of immense fortitude, of fearless and strikingly selfless searching for yet another man, for just one more man.
Desmond’s care for each individual person reminds me of Saint Dominic.
Dominic’s heart burned for souls. God’s holy athlete wielded a torch of charity and set his tepid world ablaze. Recall how Dominic often prayed through the night. His vigils focused on the stranded of Christ’s flock: “My God, my mercy, what will become of sinners?” Sleep tempted his prostrate frame; distraction enticed his weary mind; Satan and his demons coaxed him towards despair, despair in the face of a world gone wrong. Still, Dominic besought his King that one more sinner might be saved, that one more Prodigal Son might return to his Father.
There’s the story of Dominic and the heretic innkeeper. Dominic, traveling through Southern France, was hosted by a man seduced by the Albigensian heretics. Dominic was just passing through the town, but he used all the time he had to win this sinner back to God’s Church. The two men talked all night. When the light of dawn arrived, the innkeeper had repented of his error; he was ready to return to the true faith.
I imagine that Dominic prayed something like Desmond: “Lord, please help me get one more.” When Dominic stepped into town, this prayer was in his heart. And when the innkeeper announced his errors, Dominic sprang to action. Dominic knew that God was the main actor in the effort, but he delighted to labor with his Lord. For Dominic, his zeal, his energy, was personal. He loved Jesus personally, and that led to a love for persons. There was no chasm between Dominic’s love for people and his love for the man or woman standing before him.
Desmond Doss’ heroism on Hacksaw Ridge was not the fruit of a vague desire to do something great. Desmond’s actions sprung out of a passionate love for each man that he heard crying out for someone to drag them to safety. Likewise, Dominic prayed for the world, and he pursued each person as Christ pursues his sheep, seeing each man as a soul made to know and love his Creator.
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Image: U.S. Army Archives, Photograph of Pfc Desmond Doss (public domain)
