D-Day, June 6, 1944.
Al Turner, a 22-year-old U.S.
Army medic from Portland, stepped off the Rhino Ferry into the English Channel
and sank into water over his head. Loaded down with gear, he found his way to
shore in the Dog Green Sector of Omaha Beach in Normandy.
Dazed and rendered partially deaf by the thunder of combat, Turner moved
inland from the beach with a group of other soldiers. They made their way to
the village of Vierville, where they took up what they believed was a secure
position in an orchard across from a church.The next morning, Turner awoke to the sight of a German rifle pointed at his face.
“We thought we were behind the lines and came to find out we were the line. That was a shock,” recalled Turner, now an 82-year-old Wilsonville resident and a member and past commander of Tualatin Post 3452 of the Veterans of Foreign Wars.
Turner and 40 other soldiers were taken prisoner and marched 150 miles to the
French city of Rennes. Along the way, half of the prisoners were killed by
Allied planes that strafed the area.
When the Germans learned that he was a medic, Turner was put to work as an
orderly in a Rennes hospital, where the patients included Allied POWs. He
remained there until Gen. George Patton’s Third Army recaptured the area in
late August 1944. Turner returned to military duty and was discharged from the
Army in August 1945.
End of story? Not quite.
Last week, Turner – known as “Mr. Patriot” to his VFW buddies – received the
Jubilee of Liberty Medal honoring him for his part in D-Day, the massive
Allied invasion of Normandy that changed the course of World War II.
The regional council of Normandy first presented the medal in 1994 during the
50th anniversary of D-Day. Anyone who took part in the Allied landings that
occurred between June 6 and Aug. 31, 1944, is eligible to receive the medal.
Turner was assigned to the 121st Combat Engineer Battalion, 29th Infantry
Division.
He was in the second wave that landed on Omaha Beach as part of the
First Army, 116th Regimental Combat Team, Force O.
The opening scenes of
“Saving Private Ryan” depict the deadly combat and chaos
that swept up Turner, who has seen the movie.
“The beach scenes were good and real,” he said of the movie. “The rest was
Hollywood.”
A medal in the mail
So how did Turner – who has never attended a D-Day anniversary in France –
receive the Jubilee of Liberty Medal? He has an acquaintance named Bob
Everroad to thank for that.
A former Portlander who lives in Scotland, Everroad attended the 60th
anniversary of D-Day last month in France and apparently made some inquiries
about obtaining a medal for Turner.
At Everroad’s request, Oregon Sen. Gordon Smith’s office sent Turner an
application form for the medal. To make a long story short, an envelope
containing the award arrived in the mail a few weeks ago at the home of
another friend of Everroad’s – Col. Stiles Jewett, a Wilsonville resident and
chief of plastic surgery at Madigan Army Medical Center at Fort Lewis, Wash.
Jewett presented the medal to Turner during an informal ceremony Friday
afternoon at the Wilsonville Senior Center.
“I hate these things,” Turner said with a grin after Jewett pinned the
beribboned gold medal on his shirt pocket and the small audience of family and
friends applauded.
Looking back, “I consider myself lucky,” Turner said. “The only thing I lost
was my hearing and 40 pounds – and my youthful stupidity, I think, at least
part of it.”
It turned out that Turner also suffered a concussion on Omaha Beach – his
injury was discovered after he was liberated from the Germans. He was treated
at a hospital in England.
Later, Turner came down with tuberculosis and battled the disease for a number
of years until a cure was found. “So I was lucky again,” he said.
He believes his mother suffered more than he did during the D-Day landings,
Turner added. “I knew I was OK, but I was missing in action, and Mom didn’t
know where I was. I apologize for putting her in that position.”
His mother, 100-year-old Calla Turner of Wilsonville, was in the audience
Friday afternoon. So was Turner’s wife, Evelyn, who hadn’t worried about him a
bit during D-Day because they didn’t know each other then, Turner explained
with a smile.
Calla Turner, though, remembered that telegram she received 60 years ago
notifying her that Al was missing.
“We didn’t know how to think about it,” said Calla, whose other son – Al’s
younger brother Jack – also was fighting in France. “It doesn’t matter how old
they get, they’re still your baby.”
Al Turner doesn’t talk much about his World War II experiences, and D-Day
seems unreal to him now.
“After so many years, you get to the point where you think you’re talking
about someone else,” he remarked.
He has never returned to France and doesn’t plan to, he said. His friend Bob
Everroad had arranged for Al and Evelyn to attend the 60th anniversary of
D-Day last month, but they declined.
“I don’t want to leave the United States. I’ve been out of the United States –
been there, done that,” he said, smiling.