Pvt. Wilbun Ross
Congressional Medal of Honor

The Camp Crier
June 02, 1945

"I Met A Hero", 
by Sgt. Elizabeth Davenport, Camp Atterbury Reception Station

The adjutant looked up from his papers and said to everyone in general and no one in particular, "Well !!  We have a man here who holds the Congressional Medal of Honor !"  Just to refresh your mind, the Congressional Medal of Honor is the nation's highest award.

Our hero had just returned from the war zone and was awaiting further orders.  Although he undoubtedly would have enough points for discharge, he would, as holder of the Congressional Medal of Honor, be automatically eligible for the coveted black and white sheet, an honorable discharge.

At last he came in, a tall youth, slightly round-shouldered, dark brown hair parted and combed smoothly down, clear blue eyes and ruddy cheeks.

After the preliminaries of military courtesy, he handed the medal to the adjutant and we gathered eagerly around to have a look at it, hoping to hear the story that went with it, and to scrutinize the lad who had so honorably served his country.  The medal was a five-pointed, bronzed star with a blue ribbon in which were woven white stars.  The boy took it from the admiring group and placed it in his shirt pocket.

While he was waiting to see the Colonel, I was lucky enough to have him sitting near my desk, so I engaged him in conversation, hoping to get first-hand, the story of his achievement.  It went something like this.

His name: Wilbun Ross, His rank: Buck Private.  His home: Stearns, Ky.  His age, twenty-two.  He was in an artillery outfit with the Third Infantry Division, and they were in the Vosges Forest near St. Dix, in France.  His company had got separated from the rest of the battalion and they were endeavoring to push the krauts back from their position.

For a day and a half, the few remaining GIs, with their Lieutenant, fought strong enemy opposition hoping to hold them off until some contact could could be made with other units.  Ross had set his machine-gun up some 200 yards in front of his outfit's position and that much closer to the enemy.  He knew the value of his ammo and was aware of the scarcity of it and didn't waste a round.  This went on for a day and a half, but no replacements nor assistance were forthcoming, and worst of all, the supply of ammunition was getting lower and lower.

Finally Ross said he would try and hold them off if the others would go in search of ammunition and reinforcements, so off they went leaving Ross alone to blaze away at the krauts who seemed to show no signs of quitting.  For seven long hours Ross held his ground, using his ammunition carefully, letting them get as close as he dared, then letting them have it full blast.

50 German Dead.

Finally his buddies returned with reinforcements and ammunition and not very far away form Ross' position there were fifty some German dead who had been the recipients of Ross' well aimed fire.

While waiting for the Colonel, Ross kept saying impatiently, "What do they want with me now!  I've got a fella waiting for me.  We want to go to town" (meaning Indianapolis).

I asked him how it felt to get back to the States.  He just raised his eyes heavenward and smiled and sighed.  Someone asked him if he liked the French girls.  He said, "They're all right.  You couldn't talk to them, though.  You just had to make signs."

I sought to get from him a sort of formula or recipe for courage and bravery, a key to what makes that sort of fellow tick.  Laughingly, I said, "How do you account for your bravery, Private Ross ?" (H had ten other awards, including the Croix de Guerre, and Purple Heart with two clusters.)

I thought of Sergeant York of the Tennessee mountains when Ross said "Oh, you get out there and you've just got to do it- that's all."

I wanted to say, "Yes, Private Ross, You've got to do it, but not everyone has what it takes to do it !"

So that's my story of meeting a hero.