Mr. Speaker, I want to express my deepest sympathies for the family of J. Roy Martin who passed away May 30, 2003. Roy was a true South Carolinian and will be greatly missed. He was also a great American, a man who served valiantly in…
Mr. Speaker, I want to express my deepest sympathies for the family of J. Roy Martin who passed away May 30, 2003.
Roy was a true South Carolinian and will be greatly missed. He was also a great American, a man who served valiantly in World War II. Roy was a jumpmaster during the invasion of Normandy and fought in most major battle areas in Europe.
I believe the memory of Roy is best told by his son, Allen, who gave the following speech at his father's funeral:
First, my thanks to each of you for coming and being a part
of my dad's life. And thanks for your comfort and support to
my dad and my family during these last difficult months. The
caretakers at Anderson Hospital and Hospice of the Upstate
will have our lasting gratitude.
America has lost a brave and courageous patriot. My family
has lost a constant and steadfast anchor. Many of you have
lost a trusted and faithful friend.
Dad was an original member of 101st Airborne Division of
the U. S. Army, better known as the Screaming Eagles. He
volunteered for extended active duty and volunteered to be a
paratrooper. Parachuting was in its infancy. Dad participated
in the first divisional drops and the first night drops, all
in preparation for the invasion of Normandy.
His division was shipped to Liverpool, England on a voyage
that took 43 days, part of which was on the HMS Strathnauer
where 5,800 men were packed on a ship equipped to hold 300.
The months preceding June 6, 1944 were spent in England
preparing for the invasion. Dad and the 101st left England at
10:30 PM June 5th, the night before D-Day. Each man was
required to take six boxes of food, a gas mask, ammunition, a
folding stock, a 30 caliber carbine, knives, a main
parachute, and a reserve parachute. Each man was so heavy he
could not get in the plane without assistance and once in the
plane could not stand up without assistance. It was my
privilege a few years ago to help Dad write his memoirs for
the New Orleans D-Day reunion and the following are some
excerpts.
Dad writes, ``After we were in the plane the motor was
started and I, as a jumpmaster, was standing in the door. As
we taxied up the taxi-way, I saw Gen, Eisenhower, with
several of his staff, in an open touring car parked by the
runway as we were moving out. It was very encouraging to see
that he placed this much interest in our unit and our
mission. I learned later that his air advisor, Marshal
Lee Mallory, had advised him, that he should not use
airborne troops in this operation, that they would suffer
85 percent casualties. It must have been a great burden on
Gen. Eisenhower to see us take off and know that most of
us would not come back.
Dad was the fifth of hundreds of planes to take off. He
writes, ``I was able to look and see that navigation lights
of the many planes behind us. There were so many lights it
looked like a mammoth Christmas tree.
Dad was always a navigator and as he stood in the door, his
confidence was shaken because he could see that his plane was
off course, as they came over the French Coast. The planes
altitude lowered and they could see the Germans running their
guns and begin firing with planes crashing, burning and
exploding in the fights behind him.
He jumped knowing that he would not land in his designated
zone. It seemed to him that almost as soon as his chute
opened he was plunging through the tops of an apple orchard.
He gathered his men and approached a French farmhouse. Dad
had taken French in Boys High School eight years earlier.
Much to his surprise he was able to recall enough French to
convince the farmer to lead his men in the direction of their
mission, which were the gun emplacements that dominated Utah
Beach. They soon came upon several battalion and regimental
officers who were more senior to Dad. Dad then went to the
back of the line. After only another mile or so, the Germans
opened fire with machine guns and the French farmer and most
of his men were killed. Dad was able to crawl to a depression
and meet the first of so many dead Americans that he saw in
the war. One, a lieutenant and a recent graduate of West
Point named Ebberly, had been shot through the head in almost
the exact same position he had previously occupied. He made
his way through dead bodies to a house on the side of the
road completely filled with wounded and dead soldiers. He
proceeded across the bridge and saw the ditches on both sides
filled with dead soldiers. From this point, to the point
where he reached the gun emplacements, he has no memory--not
even the tremendous bombardments that preceded the beach
landings. It was one of many lapses of memory that I can only
conclude was his way of dealing with the horror.
The week after D-Day was another lapse in memory but Dad
writes, ``. . . D-Day was only the beginning. My battalion,
my division and I participated in every single major battle
in the European theater. We were in the airborne operation in
Holland and in Bastogne during the time it was surrendered.
And during it all I was never wounded and never missed a day
of combat. I have always wondered why this happened since it
was almost unique and virtually all of my friends were either
killed or wounded . . .''
He continues, ``We were in France for approximately six
weeks. I wore the same clothes the entire time we were
there.'' Upon return to England, I pulled off my clothes, ``.
. . and when I did so, the floor around me turned white by
the skin I had shed into the clothes. And I took my pants and
literally stood them up in the corner of the room.''
Dad ends his memoirs with this, ``After the initial days
following D-Day, I never really expected to live through the
war.'' ``. . . there was no such thing as a safe job in a
parachute unit.'' ``The following September when we jumped in
Holland, I was a Junior Captain in the battalion, three days
later I was the only Captain left. And the entire battalion
staff except the battalion commander had been killed or
wounded. And the battalion commander was then the regimental
commander because most of the regimental staff, including the
regimental commander, had been killed or wounded. The only
reasons that I am alive today are simply a matter of pure
luck and the grace of God.''
Throughout my life dad spoke very little about WWII. It is
my conclusion that it was too horrific for him to recall. He
was also a man who showed almost no emotion. Prior to the
last few days, the only time I ever saw him cry, and then
only briefly, was when my older brother Jim was killed. I
believe that Dad left most of his emotions on the European
continent and as a result of his experience there became an
individual totally dedicated to the substantive. He did not
tolerate small talk, he had little time for recreation, and
he was totally involved in the serious not the sublime. He
believed it was an honor and a duty to serve his country and
that he owed his country, his country did not owe him.
He was amazingly devoted to his family, not only to Mom and
to us, but also to his brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, and
cousins, which was a challenge in the enormous family to
which he belonged. Where his father was one of eleven
children and his mother was one of 21 children. And he made
no distinctions between laws, stepchildren, and adoption.
Once you entered his family, he was totally devoted to you
and would never let you down.
Dad felt the greatest obligation of a parent was to raise
independent children. He never rewarded us for good grades
nor punished us for bad grades. He always told us that the
grades we made affected us not him. He instilled in us a
desire to strive for the best.
He believed in the worth of every individual. He taught us
that we were no better or no worse than anyone else and that
everyone was put on this earth for a purpose. He was very
much a Baptist believing that one's faith walk was an
individual journey, not a corporate journey. He instructed us
from and early age that as much as he might wish he could get
us to heaven, it was a decision for me to make and no one
could make it for me. He was a stern disciplinarian. He
definitely believed in the axiom, `spare the rod, spoil
the child,' except when it came to Louis.
He was a great believer in free markets and encouraged
people to go into business for themselves. Just as his father
before him had encouraged his siblings to form their own
business, so too did Dad try to help his siblings in starting
their own businesses. He, like our President, was a
compassionate conservative.
He believed everyone should contribute to his or her
community. He taught Sunday school for years, played in the
Anderson Symphony Orchestra, was a life-long member of the
Rotary Club, and served for many years in the Chamber of
Commerce and the Anderson Memorial Hospital Board.
My father was blunt and plainly spoken. He had not time for
small talk. He battled depression for years. But he was a
great man. I never stopped learning from him and God should
be prepared for some pointed questions from this guy.
I am sure Dad and the Lord are having some serious
conversations. A few days ago one of the nurses commented on
what a good job the Lord had done with him. He quickly
corrected her by saying the Lord and me--don't give the Lord
all the credit.
Dad was often difficult and he knew it. He gave Mom a
plaque of appreciation on their 55th anniversary to honor her
for putting up with him for 55 years. He was resentful for
what his cancer had done to him. Many of you, in recent
months, tried unsuccessfully to see him. Your attempts were
appreciated even when unsuccessful.
We thank each one of you here for being a part of his
incredible life. We hope you will find guidance in so many of
the things he stood for and we hope you will go from this
place loving your family and committed to making this world a
better place for future generations.