The Audie Murphy Centennial

Audie Murphy (1925-1971) was born 100 years ago today. It is very strange that this once prominent American has been swallowed up by time, for he has one of the most unique biographical profiles you’ll ever hear about. He was a war hero (in fact, the most heavily decorated enlisted man in U.S. history) who then went on to become a Hollywood movie star (I’ve mentioned him over a dozen times previously on Travalanche.) For the piece de resistance he died in a plane crash. Nothing by half measures!

Murphy was from poor circumstances similar to my father’s. His family were sharecroppers in East Texas; he was one of twelve children. “Audie” is a proper name with old English origins, by the way. It sounds like a diminutive or a nickname, but it’s not. Murphy’s father abandoned the family. His mother died when he was young. He picked cotton since childhood, and acquired other odd jobs to help keep the family afloat when he got older. As a youngster he became an extraordinarily adept rifleman, as he helped feed the family by hunting. Throughout his life he was known for his hot and quick temper, a factor seemingly at odds with his cherubic, boy-like face.

When World War Two arrived, Murphy was eager to serve in spite of being several years too young to enlist. After unsuccessfully applying to every branch of the service, he finally got an older sister to sign a false affidavit attesting to an earlier birthdate, and he was accepted into the infantry of the U.S. army. He fought in North Africa, Italy, and France, from early 1943 until the end of the war. His exploits are not to be believed, although they were all witnessed, and won him a chest full of medals. He is credited with personally killing nearly 250 of the enemy. He was wounded (and kept fighting) numerous times. In exploit after exploit he demonstrated a courage so brazen it could easily be confused with stupidity or insanity, but for the fact that he succeeded in accomplishing his aims in every case. What he appears to have been was heedless. What did have to lose? What’s he going back to after the war? Sharecropping? Combine this with that hot temper and his excellent marksmanship: it’s a recipe not easily replicated. A private soldier at the war’s outset, he had been promoted to first lieutenant by the end, which is a journey very few soldiers make. And I wasn’t kidding about those decorations:

How does his jacket stay up?

Anyway, do the math, Murphy was only 20 when the war was over. What next? Apparently, West Point was considered, but he didn’t have the academic record to get in. He might have easily gone into politics, which was not uncommon for war heroes, but he seems to have been uninterested. In 1947 he signed a book contract to write his memoir To Hell and Back (with the assistance of a ghostwriter). It came out in 1949.

Meanwhile, Murphy had begun to appear in small movie roles. The original instigation had come at the hands of James Cagney and his brother William, who had been impressed with his appearance in magazines. He was given speech, voice, and acting lessons. The rise from bit player to star was swift. Most of his movies were westerns, which is undoubtedly why the Smart Set have forgotten that he was ever born, but several of his movies are classics, semi-classics, or are otherwise notable. They include John Huston’sThe Red Badge of Courage (1951), Budd Boetticher’s first western The Cimarron Kid (1952), Don Siegel’s first western The Duel at Silver Creek (1952), Destry (George Marshall’s 1954 remake of Destry Rides Again), the screen version of his book To Hell and Back (1955), Joseph L. Mankiewicz’ The Quiet American (1958), and Huston’s The Unforgiven (1960) among many others. He also starred on the tv series Whispering Smith (1961). He played Billy the Kid in The Kid from Texas (1950), John Clum in Walk the Proud Land (1956), and Jesse James in A Time for Dying (1969). The latter, directed by Boetticher, proved to be his last.

Boetticher and Murphy had two other film collaborations planned, but fate intervened. Murphy and four others were killed in a private plane crash near Roanoke Virginia on a foggy night in May, 1971. It was the height of the Vietnam War — only a subset of Americans were inclined to mourn him much in that era of internal strife.

Someone should make a bio-pic! Not just because of what we have already related, but because Murphy’s personal life in the aftermath of the war was equally dramatic. He had what we now call PTSD. He suffered from nightmares, headaches, vomiting, episodes of guilt and paranoia. He slept with a gun under his pillow, and once held a gun to his first wife’s head. (Actress Wanda Hendrix. They divorced after two years of marriage). He was heavily reliant on sleeping pills to get him through the night. Unlike many of his generation, he sought to raise awareness of what was then known as “battle fatigue” and advocated to expand healthcare benefits to veterans so that their coverage would include psychological counseling. Murphy himself continued to serve in the Texas National Guard and the U.S. Army Reserve through 1969, holding the rank of Major.