In the chaos of May 5, 1945, on the island of Okinawa, a medic named Desmond Doss watched the battlefield around him dissolve into slaughter. The Japanese fire was brutal, and the 155 men of his division were being cut down one by one. The order came to retreat, and the men scrambled back down Hacksaw Ridge, desperate to escape the carnage. But Desmond did not retreat.
He stayed on that blood-soaked ridge, dragging the wounded to the edge and lowering them down to safety. In twelve hours, he saved the lives of seventy-five men. But who was this man who refused to carry a gun and still became one of the greatest heroes of the Second World War? Desmond’s story begins during the Great Depression in Lynchburg, Virginia.
His mother, Bertha, was a devout and loving woman who worked long hours at a shoe factory just to keep food on the table. She instilled in her son the principles of faith and unconditional love, teaching him that he had to show the love of God toward every man. Desmond adored his mother, and through her, the church became the center of his life. But not everyone in the Doss family shared that peace.
Desmond’s father, Thomas, was a broken man. An alcoholic, he could barely hold a job and spent most of his days drowning the horrors he had witnessed in the First World War. Thomas was the stereotype of a man who had failed at everything and turned to the bottle to numb the pain. Young Desmond looked at his father and swore he would never become that man.
As he grew older, he became a devoted member of the Seventh-day Adventist Church, a faith that strictly forbade killing. And it was at church that Desmond’s life took a beautiful turn. He met a young woman named Dorothy, and it was love at first sight. Desmond actually told his mother that the moment he saw Dorothy, he knew he loved her.
It was not long before he asked her to marry him, and their future seemed bright. Then came December 7, 1941. The Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor, and America was thrown into war. Like everyone else, Desmond felt the anger and the need for justice.
The attack was deliberately planned, and thousands of American lives had been lost. A state of war now existed, and no one was going to change Desmond’s mind about serving his country. He enlisted, joining the army of young men desperate to take revenge on Japan. But when he reached the recruiting officer, Desmond dropped a quiet bombshell.
He told the officer that he would not carry a gun. The officer could not believe what he was hearing. How could a soldier refuse to touch a weapon? How could this man be trusted to take care of his fellow soldiers if he would not even pick up a rifle?
The officer ordered him to grab a gun, but Desmond refused. It was his religion, he said. He could not do it. But Desmond’s hatred of guns went much deeper than religion.
When he was a young boy, he had witnessed a scene that would shape the rest of his life. His father was drinking with his uncle, and an argument broke out. The liquor had taken hold, and suddenly Thomas had a gun in his hand, threatening his own brother. Desmond’s mother rushed between them, putting herself in the line of fire to stop the violence.
For a terrifying moment, the most important person in Desmond’s life stood between his uncle and the barrel of a loaded gun. She could have been killed right there. In the chaos, Thomas finally came to his senses, and Bertha took the gun. She gave it to Desmond and told him to hide it where no one would ever find it.
He hid it under the house, and no one knew where it was but him. From that day on, Desmond vowed he would never touch a gun again as long as he lived. So now the recruiting officer had a problem. But Desmond had done his homework.
He knew President Roosevelt had issued an executive order allowing conscientious objectors to serve without carrying weapons. Desmond wanted to serve as a combat medic, learning field medical procedures so he could treat the wounded and save lives on the battlefield. While other men were joining up to take lives, Desmond was going to save them. The officer was not convinced, but Desmond won his first battle with the army.
However, the army would never truly accept him. At Fort Jackson, South Carolina, patriotism ran high, and there was no room for men seen as cowards. Desmond was looked down upon by all the other recruits. Being a conscientious objector carried a heavy stigma, and Desmond was probably the most despised person on the entire base.
People laughed at him, scoffed at him, and called him a mama’s boy. It was worse than that. They beat him up several times. They made fun of him, saying he was little baby Jesus.
The barracks bullies turned to ever more personal attacks. One time they tried to coerce him into taking a gun, playing mind games, telling him it was nothing, just a piece of metal. But Desmond would not take it. His convictions would not allow it.
Then one of the men taunted him, asking what he would do if his wife were being raped. Would he use a gun then? Desmond stood his ground and said he would not use a gun. He would not kill anybody.
The pressure was psychological torture, but Desmond would not break. Not everyone wanted to destroy him. One recruit named Clarence Glenn became his friend. Clarence was also a man of religion, of Catholic background, and the two of them became a support system for each other.
Clarence helped Desmond prepare for war, and that friendship was vital. Desmond had his religion, but he also needed a mental lifeline, and Clarence was that lifeline. The day came when training was over, and Desmond’s division was shipped off to the Pacific. But before he left, he returned home to marry his sweetheart, Dorothy.
After months of physical and mental abuse, Desmond treasured the brief time he had with her. They were madly in love, and the passion between them was undeniable. But it was a terribly sweet and terribly bitter time at the same time. The ecstasy of marriage would soon give way to loneliness and the heartbreaking fear that she might never see him again.
Dorothy knew this could be the last time she saw her husband alive. In July 1944, Desmond’s division arrived on the Mariana Islands, fifteen hundred miles south of Japan. Throughout training, Desmond had been abused by his fellow recruits. On the battlefield, he discovered he was still a special target.
For Japanese snipers, American medics were highly prized. Kill a medic, and you demoralize all the other soldiers. The mental stress of combat added another unbearable layer to Desmond’s fragile state. But Clarence Glenn was there, a constant source of comfort, one of the few people who truly understood him.
They were facing an enemy unlike anything they had encountered before. Anything you did could be wrong and get you killed. A tripwire, a piece of fishing line, anything could set off a booby trap. When Desmond discovered a dying enemy soldier, he risked his own life to help him, and the other men cursed him for it.
But Desmond could not turn his back on a wounded man, even an enemy. This was not a typical enemy, not one that played by the rules the GIs were used to. All the training had been great, but this was different. This was real.
This was not a drill. Desmond endured weeks of blood, death, and brutality before America took the Mariana Islands. Next came the Philippines, where deadly kamikaze attacks ensured that even at sea, death was never far away. As the army fought across the islands, Desmond hunted for the wounded and dying.
And it was on one such mission that his war took a desperate turn. Desmond went to help a wounded soldier, but sniper fire was all around. Then he discovered it was not just any soldier. It was his closest friend, Clarence Glenn.
Clarence was bleeding out, and he needed help fast. Desmond dragged him under fire until other men came to help put him on a stretcher. But despite all of Desmond’s efforts, Clarence died in his arms. The death of Clarence was absolutely devastating.
Seeing his friend killed broke him at that moment. Desmond felt like giving up. Fearing a breakdown, the other medics gave him powerful sedatives. Desmond knew he had to find some way to protect himself from impending mental collapse.
From that point on, he would not look a man in the face in a personal way. He would treat each person the same, and as fast as he could. He would not allow himself that emotional connection he had had with Clarence. The war only got bloodier.
Desmond would now join the biggest ever marine assault in US history, even bigger than D-Day, as the Americans arrived at Okinawa, on Japanese soil. Stories of Japanese brutality played on the minds of the soldiers. Friends being killed, bodies blown up. One time, Japanese soldiers had cut the meat off the legs of abandoned American soldiers and used it for food.
And in this godless inferno, there was a ridge whose name became synonymous with death. Its official name was the Maeda Escarpment. It was also known as Sawtooth Ridge. But most famously, it was called Hacksaw Ridge.
American forces needed to take the ridge to reach the Japanese mainland. The previous division had been wiped out by brutal attacks, so it was up to Desmond and his company to take it. On May 5, 1945, the 155 men of B Company attempted an assault on Hacksaw Ridge. The Japanese were masters at luring them into a bloodbath.
They let the Americans get to the top, and then they uncorked on them. The men were slaughtered up there. Only thirty-five came down under their own power, and dozens were killed outright. As the retreating troops took stock of the dead and injured, rumors started that the man they called the nut had stayed behind on the ridge.
Desmond had witnessed the horrors of Hacksaw Ridge firsthand. Already on the edge of sanity, he finally cracked. He later told his friend that he thought he was having a nervous breakdown up there. He had no more gas left in the tank.
But somewhere, a voice called to what was left of his shattered mind. He was tortured by the knowledge that there were men up there with their hearts still beating. In the midst of his breakdown, Desmond followed that lifeline to sanity. He found a soldier who had lost both legs.
As darkness fell in a brutal crossfire, somehow Desmond got the soldier to the edge of the ridge and lowered him to safety. But he knew there were others left behind. There was no one else to help these poor boys. If he left them, who would take care of them?
Who would get them down from the top? He was desperate to get them off. And so, from that moment on, he started living for one thing only. Help me get one more.
Throughout the night, the Japanese did everything they could to kill the crazy American. Every piece of clothing he wore had bullet holes or shrapnel in it. His canteen, his load-bearing belt, his medical aid kits, his helmet, his shoes. Everything.
In twelve hours, Desmond saved the lives of seventy-five soldiers. That meant he was rescuing somebody every eleven minutes. His hands were raw, worn down to the bone. The next day, Desmond Doss, the conscientious objector who refused to carry a gun into battle, came down the ridge.
He was a hero. It is here that the Hollywood film leaves Desmond Doss. But in reality, his torture was far from over. There was a consequence for being heroic, and it affected him for the rest of his life.
The war in the Pacific continued, and Desmond suffered debilitating injuries in a grenade attack. When he was finally sent home to his new bride, Dorothy, she realized that the man she loved would never be the same again. Desmond’s heroism did not go unnoticed. He was invited to the White House, where President Truman presented him with the Medal of Honor, making him the first conscientious objector ever to receive the nation’s highest award.
Truman told him it was a greater honor for Desmond to receive the medal than for him to be president. With Dorothy by his side, Desmond was a national hero. The war was over, but his battles at home were just beginning. Soon, he began to feel unwell.
He was coughing, and the doctor found tuberculosis in both lungs. It was a highly infectious disease without a known cure at the time. Doctors tried strong antibiotics, and they had tragic side effects. Desmond’s hearing was badly damaged, and he remained almost deaf for the rest of his life.
He was kept in quarantine, separated from his first child, a son named Thomas. He could only see his infant son through glass. His left lung was removed, and he managed to beat the disease. But the mental scars from Hacksaw Ridge would not heal.
Dorothy served as a rock for Desmond during those years. For thirty years of their marriage, she cared for him. But the shadows of war lived on with them, by day and by night. Desmond called them the demons.
They tortured him. He felt responsible for the men who died, and he constantly asked himself how he could have done more. He had nightmares. He saw, heard, and felt the mortars coming in, reacting physically to memories that would not fade.
Today, we recognize these demons as PTSD, post-traumatic stress disorder. But it haunted Desmond for much of his life. You just cannot forget what war does to you. The stress of caring for her broken husband eventually took its toll on Dorothy.
One night, Desmond found her in agony. She had cancer, and it had spread. He needed to get her to the hospital fast. He had not gotten much sleep, spent the night rubbing her back, trying to soothe her.
It was a terrible night to be speeding to the emergency room. The road was bad, and it was raining hard. Whether he hydroplaned or slightly went off the pavement, somehow the car went crazy. When the medics arrived, they tried to save Dorothy, but the love of Desmond’s life was dead.
The one person he was closest to in all the world, his soulmate, was gone. He felt guilty. The man who saved so many lives at Hacksaw Ridge was now haunted by another memory, alone with his disability, his nightmares, and his shame. He was at the lowest point of his life.
Until his heroics at Hacksaw Ridge changed his life once more. This time, they offered redemption. Filmmaker Terry Benedict wanted to tell the world how a conscientious objector came to win the Medal of Honor. But Benedict discovered that Desmond’s mental scars had built an almost impenetrable shell.
He interviewed Desmond for eight, sometimes ten hours a day, and got nowhere. He became frustrated, reached over, grabbed Desmond, and told him to talk from his heart, from down deep, not from his head. Within a few minutes, Desmond was crying. He started to relive what had happened.
He started telling Benedict things he had never spoken of before. For the first time, Desmond fully opened up about his experiences. He spoke about his prayers during that endless night on the ridge, begging God to help him get one more. Having broken down his barriers, Benedict took the frail hero back to Okinawa and Hacksaw Ridge.
Desmond returned to the scene of his finest hour, the very place where he had lowered so many soldiers to safety. He told his story there, reliving the bullets flying and the shells going off, how he had to make himself as small a target as possible, dragging wounded men by the collar through the dirt. Desmond could tell his story on Hacksaw Ridge and face his demons. You cannot erase those memories.
They are forever there. They can sew up the wound, but the scar will always remain. In 2006, Desmond Doss died, but he was not forgotten. Benedict’s documentary alerted Hollywood to the great untold story of a forgotten American hero.
Desmond’s conviction to his beliefs was celebrated in the blockbuster film Hacksaw Ridge, directed by Mel Gibson and starring Andrew Garfield. Desmond’s story was seen around the world. He was a man who fought to save others, always one more. He showed America that you can serve your country without killing.
Just because somebody believes a little bit differently does not mean they are the weakest link in the chain. A man who gave everything for his country, whose struggle did not end with the war. He paid for his heroism for the rest of his life.
This was the real story of an American hero.
