An officer and a Christian

On April 8, 1945, one month before VE Day in Europe, a German sniper took the leg and almost the life of Philip Larimore. Just three years earlier, at 17, Phil was the youngest-known graduate of the Army’s Officer Training School. At 18, he was its youngest commissioned officer. At 19, he spent over a year in combat; at times the average life expectancy of front-line officers was 21 days. At age 20 he was promoted to company commander, the Army’s youngest and one of the most highly decorated, and led his unit into Germany.

After his amputation, Phil rehabilitated in an Army hospital, one of more than 15,000 soldiers with major limb loss. After recovery all amputee officers were, by policy, to be discharged from service. Phil decided to appeal this injustice, hoping to be the first to continue to serve. At the hearing on April 15, 1947, he was shocked to learn how amputee officers were viewed. One colonel exclaimed, “You’re a handicap to the Army. You’re a highly decorated cripple, but still a cripple!” He lost his request by one vote and was honorably discharged as a major at 22.

Then Phil began his second and most difficult post-war battle: severe depression. After 415 days of combat in Europe, a year of additional surgeries and rehabilitation, and a crushing legal defeat, his self-image was shattered. A promising Army career had been stolen, not just by a German sniper but by the Army and country he loved. He contemplated ending it all.

But Phil had the wisdom to seek help. Over several conversations with an Army chaplain, he heard this life-­altering advice: “Your physical, emotional, and spiritual wounds will either make you a bitter person or a better person. The worst handicap in life isn’t being disabled; it’s being disabled with a bad attitude. Don’t let what happened shatter your heart, your talents, your gifts, your will, or your faith in God and His plan for you.”

Phil’s outlook changed as he began seeking God’s wisdom and guidance as well as the support of family and friends. The next six decades were personally and professionally successful by every measure.

I was his first son, and when I entered college, Dad didn’t express Christianity like my friends and I did during the “Jesus Revolution” of the ’70s. When I challenged him one evening, he sighed and gently responded, “I endured the hell of war with the Lord walking with me. This was and is my belief.” He pulled out a piece of paper from his wallet and handed it to me:

No shell or bomb can on me burst, except my God permit it first;
Then let my heart be kept in peace, His watchful care will never cease;
No bomb above, nor mine below, need cause my heart one pang of woe;
The Lord of Hosts encircles me, He is the Lord of earth and sea.

Red-faced, I handed it back. The Lord used this moment to teach me to judge correctly by looking beneath the surface to evaluate the heart. Once I asked him what it felt like to be a hero. He replied, “Two million men fought in Europe. I was one of over 500,000 American casualties, but there are over 100,000 buried there. Those are the real heroes. Not me!”

Dad’s quiet but consistent faith, humility, and countless acts of serving others became a model for me and those he discipled. Several named their first son Philip. After retirement, he was at peace with his past and his Creator. The horrible nightmares and the stench of war tattooed in his nostrils were gone.

At age 78, Dad died in his sleep. Although a plot was reserved for him at Arlington National Cemetery, he wanted to be buried closer to home. After my biography about him was published in 2023, I visited his grave. I sat there thinking: Dad, I always loved being your son. Now more than ever, I’m honored by it.

I think my father would ask us this coming Veteran’s Day to take a few moments during our get-togethers to find a story of other heroes who served to be reminded about all who have served—particularly those who left their all on the altar of war, willingly sacrificing their tomorrows for our todays—to remember that the freedoms and liberty they preserved for us should be deeply appreciated and honorably stewarded.

—Walt Larimore is a retired family physician and the author of At First Light: A True World War II Story of a Hero, His Bravery, and an Amazing Horse