May 31, 2010

By Phil Mushnick
New York Post

This weekend, let's think of Jack Lummus. A star athlete at Baylor, Lummus might have made a living -- and a name to remember -- as an offensive end for the New York Giants. He played nine games for the Giants in 1941, his rookie year. But then, World War II.

Lummus enlisted in the Marines. As an athlete, a college man and an older man -- he was 25 -- he soon became 1st Lt. Lummus.

On Feb. 19, 1945, he was among the first wave to hit the black volcanic sand of Iwo Jima. For days, that first wave of men dug in, fought, advanced, dug in, advanced, dug in again -- and died. Although it's reasonable to believe that on that day when the American flag was raised on Mt. Suribachi -- Feb. 23 -- the battle for Iwo Jima had ended, it had barely begun.

On March 8, Lummus, commanding a rifle platoon, had already been wounded in a shoulder and twice been knocked flat by grenade concussions when he rose to lead three successful assaults on entrenched positions. Pressing a fourth assault, a land mine blew off his legs; He was mortally wounded. Yet he continued to command his men.

Jack Lummus was 29.

And Iwo Jima was still 18 days from won.

Iwo Jima produced 27 Medal of Honor recipients, 14 posthumously. Lummus' mother accepted her son's Medal of Honor on May 30, 1946 -- 64 years ago this Sunday.

Jack Lummus is buried near his boyhood home in Ennis, Texas. His tombstone simply reads, "Jack Lummus, Medal of Honor, 1st Lt., US Marine Corps, World War II, Oct. 23, 1915, Mar. 8, 1945." Not much, but plenty.

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