William Henry Purcell was born this day in 1920, delivered by a country doctor in rural North Georgia.  The next-to-youngest sibling of three brothers and three sisters, he grew up on a farm learning what a day’s work was all about.  He could raise corn, pick cotton, milk cows (but not ever as fast as his mother); and during the Great Depression when money was scarce, learned how to make un-taxed whiskey.

As a teenager during the Depression, he lost his father to a stroke; and, along with his unmarried siblings, helped his mother hold on to the farm for a short time.  When war came, his job in the TNT factory kept him from going right away.  When he did leave in 1943, he didn’t return until 1946.  Among other actions, he and his unit fought the battle of Manila; rooting out the enemy from the rubble, block by block.  He was witness to the enemy’s use of women and children as hostages and shields, and the aftermath of their brutal rape, murder, and mutilations of innocent civilians within the Intramuros section of the city.

Upon his return, he finished his schooling on the GI Bill; and worked at a service station, as a truck driver, car salesman, service department manager, café owner, private club manager, bank loan officer, and finally, bank vice-president.  Somewhere in that timeline, an old friend with a funeral home needed a hand one day, and he pitched in to help.  Not because he needed the money, but because his Depression-era work ethic wouldn’t permit him to ignore the opportunity to make more money did he turn it into a long-running part-time job (even after he retired at age 72).

Bill Purcell was a man of many talents.  He could make the best steak you ever put in your mouth, and also knew how to make chitlins and calf fries.  He did his own maintenance, and could passably fix just about anything.  He used the vacant lot next door to raise the most productive garden around.  He and his fellow bank officers also had an acre plot in the country as a community garden.  Just for fun and to prove he could still do it, he plowed and cultivated it with a borrowed mule – and kept the rows arrow straight.  He was adept at numbers and compound interest.  He was a quick judge of character and seldom failed to correctly size a person up in short order.  If there was a baby anywhere near, he was sure to pick it up.  A man of few words, yet he could and did strike up a conversation with anyone, anywhere, at any time.

He once saved a man from drowning in basic training, and as a member of the Civil Defense squad in the early 1960’s he helped in several cave rescues.  He was recognized by the local Red Cross for a lifetime achievement as a blood donor.

Bill Purcell was a hero to me.  When I was a child, it was the sight of his old Army uniform tucked away in a storage closet; with its Combat Infantry Badge, rows of ribbons, and the 37^th Inf Div combat patch, that led to my Army career.  Although I gained a few more stripes than the ones on his sleeves, he will always outrank me.  When he was laid to rest a few years ago, I was glad to see that the funeral detail was led by an infantry sergeant from the local recruiting station.  

I mention Bill Purcell’s birthday here at RedState because his ethic of work and service to his country and to others is something to be fostered in new generations of Americans.  The shame of it is that the world his generation saved and built for their sons and daughters was perhaps too benign to produce the same character traits in them.  Our current situation, with its wars and coming economic crises, certainly promise to be a character-building exercise, however.  I have no doubt that a nation of citizens in the mold of Bill Purcell will prevail, if we could raise them fast enough.