This Week In History: Oct. 6 – Oct. 12 “Alvin York” 

Ordinary individuals are capable of extraordinary things. It’s a truth that may not be apparent all of the time, but certainly has evidence in the records of history. Last year, for example, I covered the life of Captain Tom. From World War II battlefields to his garden walks during the COVID-19 pandemic, Captain Tom lived a life of selfless sacrifice even during his 100th birthday. In an equally motivational story, this week we’ll explore the life of a truly remarkable individual: Alvin Cullum York. 

York’s story begins in a big family on a small farm in a small town. Born Dec. 13, 1887, York was one of 11 children raised by William and Mary Brooks York in Pall Mall, Tenn. Right below the state border with Kentucky, the town was in an awkward stretch of territory. Far south from Louisville, Kenn., yet also far to the northeast of Nashville, Tenn., Pall Mall existed in an impoverished agricultural territory that in the 1880s had seen little signs of industrial progress.  

To paint a picture of Pall Mall, perhaps it’s best to see how the York family lived.  

In 1911, William York passed away, leaving the young Alvin largely responsible for taking care of the family. He did so the best he could. First, he began honing his skills as a marksman in the highlands of Tennessee, bringing back food for his family when he was able. Likewise, he took on small jobs in Pall Mall, though the money was so scarce that often these situations didn’t work. In effect, York became something of a ruffian — a struggling local kid who was fiercely independent and hardworking, though often took time for himself at the expense of decency and his savings fund.  

This situation remained until around 1914. It was then that York came to a nearby Christian church and took on a life as a practicing and morally rigid follower. He corrected his habits, grounded himself and emerged as a man devoted to never practicing violence — sadly, he did so at the worst possible time. 

In 1917, the pacifist York was called to the United States draft. One of the bloodiest wars in Europe was unfolding and somehow, a young man in Tennessee was about to get tangled up in it. It’s worth noting that if I (or any healthy male college-aged student reading this) was alive in 1917, then we would be in a similar situation to York.  

As a devout pacifist Christian, York first got a note from his pastor, outlining York’s life and service in the church, requesting that he be deemed a conscientious objector. York submitted his file, but it was denied. He tried again — it was denied. In a final act of desperation, he attempted once more, to no avail. His church was not officially recognized as being part of a sect of Christianity, and thus, like so many other innocent young men, York was off to war.  

York trained and worked in the 328th Infantry Regiment of the 82nd Infantry Division in Camp Gordon, Georgia, frequently showcasing his marksmanship and endurance.  

In one last ditch effort, York sat down with his commanders (who respected York enough to not immediately deny his request to leave the army) and discussed the Biblical evidence supporting both pacificism and the need to fight when called upon. One can only imagine the full debate as it unfolded, but the outcome was ambiguous: York left confused.  

How could the Bible, his whole reason against fighting, be used by someone else as their justification for joining the same fight? 

In the end, after some days of contemplation, York made his decision. 

It was June 27, 1918, and York was among over a million Americans about to take part in the Meuse-Argonne Offensive in the coming months. The goal: somehow break the stalemate in the West with Germany and end the war.  

For York, however, the goal was much clearer. This week in history, on Oct. 8, 1918, York and a unit of 16 soldiers were sent to capture the Decauville Railroad. If successful, German logistics would have a serious problem supplying the German divisions in the Argonne.  

York and his battalion, however, were attacking out of what the Germans called the “Amerikaner Nest” (American Nest) — a pocket behind enemy lines in which York’s division had entered. The end goal was to cut off the Germans, but for now, until support came, it was the Americans who were cut off. While the railroad seemed within reach, nearly 50 German machine guns stood in the way. 

York commented on the situation, “So you see we were getting it from the front and both flanks.  … It was awful. Our losses were very heavy. The advancement was stopped and we were ordered to dig in. I don’t believe our whole battalion or even our whole division could have taken those machine guns by a straightforward attack.” 

It was at that moment that York and his company led by Sergeant Bernard Early launched a courageous attack to take out the machine guns. They scrambled up the hill as a late barrage of American artillery provided dangerous, though effective, cover. In a stroke of luck, they found a gap in the lines. 

Two German commanders were preparing to rotate the command; one eating breakfast was suddenly interrupted at gunpoint by one of the 17 American soldiers, and the other was arrested within a few minutes. The Americans had made it up the hill. Soon, other staff and riflemen of the German divisions in the area were captured, confused beyond belief as to how the Americans got there. So baffling was the interaction that the Germans assumed an enormous American offensive was underway. 

However, when nearby German machine gunners caught wind of the situation, they used the nearby hills to save the situation. Ordering the 70 German prisoners with the Americans to duck, they opened fire, killing six instantly and wounding three. German prisoners were also accidentally shot by their own men. 

Amid this bloody exchange, it was York who worked his way toward the German machine gunners in an effort detailed by the Sergeant York Patriotic Foundation, “For the gunners to fire at York, they had to expose their heads above their positions. Whenever York saw a German helmet, he fired his .30-caliber rifle, hitting his target every time.” 

Soon, York shouted at the Germans to “give up and come on down,” a plea to prevent the unnecessary killing of any more soldiers. Instead, they charged at him. York defended himself and shot five Germans “like wild turkeys.” 

In the end, the Germans, panicked and outmatched, surrendered. They joined a column that carried the wounded Americans and 132 prisoners back to American lines. Upon seeing the column, the American divisional command took up defensive positions, thinking it was a German advance, but that wasn’t necessary. It was the prize of York’s heroism. Perhaps nowhere else on the frontlines had one individual made such a tangible difference in the outcome of the operation. In the end, the German lines were shattered. 

York never did change from his pre-war ways though, remaining through and through a faithful and lifelong advocate for peace. He returned to Pall Mall as a national hero, yet turned down requests to have a movie made about his life (at least until 1941) and instead focused on bringing prosperity to Pall Mall. The legacy of this humility remains today in the Alvin C. York Agricultural Institute, the Sergeant York Patriotic Foundation and the Sgt. Alvin C. York State Park.