A Century Old Myth: Sergeant Alvin York

Welcome to the Medal of Honor podcast, brought to you in partnership with the National Medal of Honor Museum. I’m Ken Harbaugh. In each episode, we’ll learn about a different service member who has distinguished him or herself through an act of valor.

Alvin Cullium York was born on December 13th, 1887 in Pall Mall, Tennessee. He grew up in a large farming family, and only attended school for a total of nine months. On the farm, he became a skilled marksman, and worked jobs around the area to support his family after the death of his father. As a member of the Church of Christ in Christian Union, York had strong religious convictions. He was opposed to fighting in World War I, but when time came to sign up for the draft, he did. In 1917, York got notice that he had been drafted. Three times he tried to file for an exemption of service as a conscientious objector, but these were all denied because his church was not recognized as an official sect of Christianity. Under threat of being arrested, York gave in and joined the Army.

On October 8th, 1918, then Corporal York and the rest of Company G, 2D Battalion, 328th Infantry 82nd Division were ordered to capture the Decauville Railroad near Chatel-Chehery, France. As they advanced, the company was hit by enemy German machine gun fire, killing their commander and overwhelming the unit.

Sergeant Harry Parsons, the commanding officer, ordered Captain Bernard Early to take a small group of men and sneak behind enemy lines and take out their machine gun positions. Early knew this was a suicide mission, but proceeded anyway, taking York and 15 other men with him.

The group advanced through the forest, around a hill, and through a ravine before stumbling upon a German unit preparing their breakfast. The Americans attacked, killing several Germans and forcing the rest to surrender. Early then ordered York and another soldier to take position at the top of the ravine in order to cover the rest of the unit as they took prisoners.

As they lined up the Germans, another unit of 25 enemies at the top of the ravine spotted them, and fired down at Early’s unit. This is where the truth departs from what you’ve probably heard about Alvin York. According to newspaper articles, movies, and his Medal of Honor citation, York assumed command after all his superior officers were killed. Then, as the rest of his comrades hid behind cover, too afraid to act, York single handedly worked his way up the hill, shooting with deadly accuracy, fending off a bayonet charge, and then forcing the German commander to surrender. York was said to have killed more than two dozen enemies, and returned with 132 prisoners.

This story however, was fabricated. Instead, when the German unit attacked from the top of the ravine, Sergeant Early was knocked out of commission, and verbally passed command over to Private Otis Merrithew. All able members of the American unit engaged the Germans until the German commander surrendered because his unit was hitting too many of his own allies in the ravine. Six of the ten Americans were killed, and several more wounded. Merrithew and the unit then took all 132 prisoners back to their company, where the wounded, including Merrithew, received treatment. York was then given command in order to take the prisoners back to American lines, and when he arrived, he received credit for the engagement and capturing of all the prisoners.

York was immediately recommended for the Distinguished Service Cross, the nation’s second most prestigious award. However, the recommendation stated that York, with seven other soldiers, had captured the machine gun nest and all the prisoners together, which was mostly true. Two of York’s fellow soldiers even signed an affidavit supporting the recommendation’s claims, and he received the DSC that month.

The real problem began three months after the war ended, when York was recommended for the Medal of Honor. The recommendation, which was submitted on February 5th, 1918, authored the false narrative that York did all the work single handedly, fighting and capturing the Germans on his own.

To understand how this story was tolerated by the officials involved, some background information is needed. Following World War I, many Generals were demoted simply because less Generals are needed during peacetime. Any General that wanted to maintain his rank, and avoid taking a hit to his pay and reputation, had to prove one way or another that he was deserving of his current rank. So, when officers of the 82nd, Major General George B. Duncan and Brigadier General Julian R. Lindsey, caught wind of York’s story, they saw it as an opportunity to distinguish themselves. They were both in bad standing with their superior officer, Major General Hunter Liggett. In fact, Liggett couldn’t stand either of them. Among other things, their inability to carry out orders and “amateurish” maneuvering on October 8th, the same day as York’s famed encounter with the Germans, was a big disappointment to Liggett. Duncan and Lindsey saw York’s story as a way to bury their own failures and put themselves in good standing with the man who held their careers in his hands.

In addition to York’s Medal of Honor, Lindsey also authorized 5 of York’s comrades to receive the Silver Star, but this was quickly buried. By acknowledging anyone else’s role on October 8th, York’s credibility could be jeopardized.

A day after the Medal of Honor recommendation was submitted, several identical affidavits were signed by York’s comrades, supposedly verifying York’s account. None of these were personal statements, but rather York’s statement that they were signing off on. One of these was from Feodore Sak, but it wasn’t actually signed by Sak. Instead an X and the words “His Mark” were put next to where his signature was supposed to be, reason being that, as a Polish immigrant, Sak didn’t know enough english to sign his name. However, before joining Company G, Sak attended English school at Camp Gordon, and he even signed his registration card when he joined the army.

The next day, Dunan, Lindsey, and George Pattullo, a journalist that Duncan invited, took York to the site and personally investigated the case. No other men who were there were asked to join, or to give their recollection. After hearing York tell his story, Duncan and Lindsey immediately recorded their findings and submitted their recommendation, which they had already written prior to the investigation. The whole process took under three days. For context, other Medal of Honor investigations can take months or even years to verify and complete. Duncan and Lindsey’s investigation was just a formality- something they had to do in order to legitimize the award they had already decided to support.

When the other men who fought on October 8th found out about York’s recommendation, they were upset. They argued that the affidavits were forged, and that they should have been consulted for the investigations- but nothing ever came of these complaints.

York’s fabricated tale made him one of the most decorated Americans of World War I, and earned him the Medal of Honor. George Pattulo, the journalist who tagged along on the investigation, wrote a piece about York for the most popular magazine in America. York became a celebrity overnight. Audiences loved his shift from rural conscientious objector to true American hero, and they were enamored by his remarkable bravery. York was invited to the White House, he attended parades, and he began speaking all over the country. Duncan accompanied York through all of these engagements, continuing to use York to bolster his own reputation, even after both he and Lindsey had avoided being demoted.

When York spoke in Brooklyn, his comrade Otis Merrithew was in the audience. Merrithew’s presence prompted York to bring him on stage and call him a hero, the only time York ever gave recognition to another member of his unit. After that, York canceled any speeches in cities where a fellow member of Company G lived.

Other than that, there wasn’t much commotion from York’s comrades. Despite not getting the recognition they deserved, they didn’t want to complain, and were just happy to be back home. It stayed this way for nearly 10 years. York’s fame rose and fell, and he more or less fell out of the public eye.

Then in 1927, another article from The American Legion was written about York and his accomplishments. A member of another unit, who had heard the original stories in France, replied, saying it should have included information about the 16 other men present, especially those who lost their lives. This prompted The American Legion to do more research, and they ended up releasing a follow-up article where they acknowledged the presence of York’s comrades. Other newspapers picked up on the story, and started interviewing the other men. In these interviews they didn’t criticize York, but instead simply told the other side of the story.

Then in the next year, in 1928, an Australian named Thomas Skeyhill published a biography about York. A book had already been written about York at this point, but this was unique because Skeyhill worked closely with York in order to write it, and had access to York’s journal. In his biography, Skeyhill did more than just continue the narrative that York acted single handedly. He added bits to the story that had never been heard before, or recorded in any official capacity. The most famous of these additions is the idea that York fended off a bayonet charge. The book was a big success, and it reinvigorated the public’s interest in York’s story.

In 1929, the War Department decided to invite York to their Military Exposition and Carnival as a way to drum up excitement- going so far as to have him reenact his famous battle. They also invited several of the men who were there on October 8th to join in the reenactment, thinking they'd be happy to attend and celebrate the man who saved their lives. This however was not the case. When asked for comment by reporters, York’s comrades explained that York had been taking credit for their collective accomplishments. These reports, along with circulating rumors that they were looking to fight York at the event, put the War department in a tough situation. They had been faced with York’s inconsistencies, but he was crucial to their exhibition, and they couldn’t un-invite the other members of Company-G. Their solution was to promise York’s comrades that they’d be given recognition, as long as they didn’t cause trouble. Initially all of them were to get the Distinguished Service Cross, but the War Department quickly backtracked, saying the next day that it was too late for them to receive this award. Then it came out that Sergeant Early had actually already been recommended for the DSC nine years earlier by several officers. None other than Major General Duncan, who worked at the War Department after the war, had buried it. When confronted about this, Duncan said York didn’t support it, so he thought the recommendation couldn’t have been legitimate.

Embarrassed for having to admit their wrongdoing, the War Department awarded Early the DSC on October 5th, 1929. The following day, Bulkley S. Griffin, the reporter who had originally dug up and publicized Early’s first DSC recommendation, published an article accusing the War Department of “devious maneuvering”. He said that Early would never have received his award if the War Department did not feel their exhibition was in jeopardy. He also wrote that York’s comrades were “hushed up in some way”, and said the same official who furiously claimed Early deserved nothing turned around and recommended him for the DSC the next day.

Off the back of this contentious exhibition and the press’ somewhat inflammatory reporting about it, Otis Merrithew decided to write a statement about what really happened. He wanted to stress the fact that he was in charge that day, not York, like the public believed. He got six of his comrades to sign it, and it quickly created an external push to get Merrithew the Distinguished Service Cross. The push made its way all the way to the House of Representatives as a bill, but didn’t make it out. The War Department again said it was too late to receive an award, so it seemed dead in the water.

Merrithew then turned to G. Edward Buxton Jr., a former officer of the 82nd. He hoped that with Buxton’s rank and reputation, they could make some ground. Buxton agreed to help, and wrote his own statement which he sent to Merrithew’s 10 surviving comrades. All of them, except York, who never responded, signed it, validating Merrithew’s version of events and agreeing that he should receive the DSC. These signatures were notarized and then sent to the War Department for review, where it landed on George B. Duncan’s desk. Unsurprisingly, Duncan buried it. The statement was also sent to Julian R. Lindsey, who actually responded. Lindsey said he regretted not recommending all the other men for the Silver Star because they were sent on a suicide mission, but that there was nothing he could do about Merrithew’s DSC because the deadline had passed.

Then in 1940, Warner Brothers began production of a movie based on Skeyhill’s book called “Sergeant York”. American involvement in World War II was fast approaching, and Warner saw it as an opportunity to capitalize on both York’s popularity, and the patriotism of the time. It was the first film biography about someone who was still alive, so there wasn’t any precedent for York’s contract with Warner. As a result, York was given full veto power. At any point, even if the film was completely finished, York had the ability to stop production or keep the film from being released. York was also brought on to help create the film. Originally York wanted it to be focused on his religious convictions, but the screenwriters took it into a more traditional war movie direction.

Merrithew found out about this movie, and wrote a letter to Warner, asking that he and the other 15 men that served with York be recognized in the film. Warner agreed, and hired a former FBI agent named Bill Guthrie to track down the men and have them sign a waiver so that their role could be portrayed in the movie. With each waiver signed, Gutherie offered less and less compensation to York’s comrades. On one hand, Captain Danforth, who wasn’t even a part of the battle, was given $1,500 to sign. On the other, Private Patrick Donahue, who at this point was an alcoholic and suffering from PTSD, was offered $5. In his discussion with Merrithew, Guthrie offered $250, and said that Merrithew would be on set when they shot the battle, acting as a technical advisor.

Warner Brothers was not happy with this. They knew that inviting Merrithew would upset York, and therefore put the whole production at risk. In the words of one screenwriter “I doubt if you could think of anything that could antagonize York more than to let [Merrithew] anywhere near here.” In the end Merrithew was not invited to the set.

The movie got York’s approval, and it was released, becoming a huge hit. It too followed the false narrative that York acted singlehandedly, and his comrades were barely mentioned. The myth of Alvin York had been finally cemented into history.

Sergeant Alvin York died on September 2nd, 1964. When Merrithew learned about his passing, he saw one final opportunity to get the recognition he deserved. Merrithew wrote to both the War Department and President Lyndon B. Johnson, requesting that his file be revisited. The request was granted, and after research backed his story, Johnson awarded Merrithew the Silver Star.

Even though York’s reliability had been questioned, and some of his comrades were eventually recognized for their contributions, York’s falsified series of events remained as the official account in the eyes of the public, and within the pages of the history books.

It wasn’t until 2008 that it began to be challenged again. A group of the descendants of the other 16 got together and shared family stories, using documents left by their ancestors to solve this puzzle. Their story was briefly picked up by the local news, but that was it. For years they tried to garner attention from the right people, and in 2020 they finally did. James P. Gregory Jr., a military history and World War I expert, came across their news appearance from 2008, and was intrigued by their claims. With the help of documents from the families, Gregory did intensive research and discovered the truth about October 18th, 1918, which had been covered up for over one hundred years. He published his findings in a book titled Unraveling the Myth of Sgt. Alvin York: The Other Sixteen, which was released in 2022. York’s narrative is still present to this day across academia and the internet, but thanks to Gregory, light is finally being shined on the decades of lies and cover ups that have masked the truth.

The Medal of Honor podcast is a production of Evergreen Podcasts.

Nathan Corson is our executive producer and mixing engineer, Declan Rohrs is our associate producer, scriptwriter, and recording engineer, and I’m Ken Harbaugh.

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