audie murphy research foundationter beatrice—he called her “pete”—quite often. audie and...

Courtesy of Nelda Payton Slaughter

Springfield Family reunion at the home of A.L. and Lula Springfield in Van Alstyne, TXAugust, 1945

VOLUME 7 SPRING 1999 © 1999

EXCERPTS FROM MAY 23, 1998 INTERVIEW WITH RUBY REYNOLDSOn May 23, 1998, Sue Gossett interviewed Ruby

Springfield Reynolds and her son Jim Reynolds who hadtraveled to Greenville, TX for the Audie Murphy DayCelebration. Ruby Reynolds is Beatrice “Pete”Springfield’s sister and a daughter of A.L. and LulaSpringfield.

We all thought an awful lot of Audie. My mother[Lula Springfield] raised thirteen children, but she thoughtof Audie as one of her own. He called her “mother” andhe appreciated her. He was a very loving person.

I first met Audie at our family reunion. This had tobe in 1940. He was working for my father, pickingcotton. He was about sixteen but he was so small I thoughthe was much younger.

I was married and we lived in Carlsbad, New Mexico.But we came back here for the family celebration. We

had a large family and there weren’t enough beds foreveryone, so Audie and another man who was workingfor my father slept in the cotton wagon.

Audie would visit my mother and father and my sis-ter Beatrice—he called her “Pete”—quite often. Audieand Pete hunted squirrels together. She was a good shot.Pete was about ten years older than Audie but they werereal close. They wrote to each other a lot during the war.In his letters he called her “Pal” and signed them “Shorty.”

The first thing he did when he got back from theservice was to visit my family when they were living inVan Alstyne. I didn’t get to come to that reunion, but Ihave pictures of Audie with the family. Just before hewas killed he called and told Pete that he’d be by to visitin a few days, but, of course, he never did get back. Itwas quite a tragedy for all of us. It was just heartbreak-ing.

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A NON-PROFIT PUBLIC BENEFIT CORPORATION

PresidentTerry M. Murphy

Vice PresidentChris J. Glazier

Executive DirectorLarryann C. Willis, Esq.

AUDIE MURPHY RESEARCH FOUNDATION

PO BOX 1804Orinda, CA 94563

Toll Free Phone (888) 314-AMRFFax: (925) 253-0504Email: [email protected] Site: www.audiemurphy.com







2

© 1999. Permission is hereby granted for excerpt repro-duction by educators, newspapers, magazines and newslettersconditioned upon the Audie Murphy Research Foundationbeing credited as the source. All other uses prohibited with-out written permission from the copyright holder.

[From “TV this week”: February 8-14,1958]

Editor’s Note: Audie Murphy canqualify as an authority on the subjectsof war and westerns. He has been oneof the leading western stars of thescreen for the past six years; previousto being in motion pictures, he servedin the army with the distinction of be-ing America’s most decorated soldier.

A leading man can commit acts ina war story that are reserved for villainsonly, in western pictures.

This came strongly to my attentionwhile making “Incident” for GeneralElectric Theatre. The young leadingman is played by Darryl Hickman. Hehas the audience’s sympathy all theway—then I kill him; yet I’m sure noone will hate me for it.

After I finished “To Hell and Back,”I promised myself I’d never do anotherwar story. But I came to realize this isas foolish as saying I’d never do anotherwestern—just because I had alreadydone one.

I feel there are an unlimited num-ber of good stories that can be portrayedagainst the background of war, whereasunder any other circumstances theywould not be believable. I do admit,however, no one wants war stories for a

steady diet. It’s something we all wantto forget but people can be shocked intostark, quick reality when brought faceto face with men in battle.

War stories can also be much morehonest than the average western. If awestern hero ever showed signs of frighthe would be laughed off the screen,even though he comes up against a life-and-death matter. He can be tense—but not scared. However, put the sameleading man in a uniform, transfer himfrom a western street to the WesternFront—give him a rifle instead of a six-shooter—and if he shows fear the au-dience understands him; they sympa-thize and he can do everything up torunning away without losing a fan.

Maybe this comes about becausewar, at one time or another, has been soclose to most of our population today.There are few men who face battle whowon’t admit they have experienced fear,and they know, in true life, the line be-tween being a hero or a coward is a fineone.

Perhaps some of the most “adult”

WAR AND WESTERNSAmerica’s Most Decorated Soldier-Turned-Actor Tells How

Fear And Bravery Go Together

by AUDIE MURPHY

westerns will be brave enough some-day to show the hero turn coward—without losing his audience. Some areprogressing in this direction, and I waspretty tickled a few weeks back when Isaw big Matt Dillon knock a fellowdown, then haul off and kick him forgood measure. I do admit they madethe poor fellow thoroughly despicableby having had him previously do thesame thing to poor Matt. And to makesure you hate him, he also kicked hisgirl friend. But this is the first time Iever saw a TV western hero give com-plete vent to his feelings.

Maybe fear can be more acceptablypresented in a war story because peoplerealize few men are fighting becausethey want to, whereas in everything ex-cept prison pictures, men are there be-cause they came of their own accord.

We didn’t have to abide by anyrules of society while making “Inci-dent.” It was just one Union soldieragainst a Southern soldier—one lifeagainst another. There’s understandingfor both and pity for them. I’m sureyou’ll understand because that’s howit was—and human beings were just asafraid and brave during the Civil Waras they were afraid and brave in everywar since.

Audie Murphy — 1958

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Audie Murphy Research Foundation

Already hypnotized, waiting for the light.

I remember seeing “Incident.” I was six yearsold. Television was still a relatively new, but majorpart of American life.

I understood how movies worked. Dad wouldgo to the studio very early in the morning for severalweeks, or go on location for a month or two, andnext year he’d be in a movie playing at a localtheater.

But TV was different. It was a piece of furni-ture in the home (see above photo); the picturescame into the home, somehow, from out there,somewhere. And it had immediacy: there werenews broadcasts and some of the shows were “live”and others seemed “live” because, well, they wereon TV. And they were there every day. It was sortof like the movies but it felt different.

Anyway, Dad had been gone all day. Thatevening I was watching TV upstairs in the bedroom.“Incident” was on. Dad was a Rebel soldier whowas stalking a Yankee soldier in a private, isolated

war. I was enjoying the show.Commercial. I go downstairs and on the way to

the kitchen I see Dad. He is in the living room,reading the newspaper. We hadn’t heard him comehome and, anyway, how could he be home when hewas on TV right now? I went back upstairs—therehe was. I ran back downstairs—there he was.

OK, maybe I wasn’t a bright six-year-old. Butthis was new stuff then and this little lesson dideffectively demonstrate the difference betweenreality and TV for me. No mean feat, really.

Unfortunately, “Incident” is not available onvideo. Universal has the negative, as well as thenegatives of all of the “Whispering Smith” episodeswhich the studio offered to make available to theAudie Murphy Research Foundation at their costs.However, even their costs for striking prints andtransferring to video run well over $10,000, which isprohibitively expensive for the Foundation. Maybesomeday. TM

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Jim Reynolds—1998


JIM REYNOLDSEXCERPTS FROM MAY 23, 1998 INTERVIEW WITH SUE GOSSETT

Audie bought me my first pair of cowboy boots. Iwas five years old and I remember him taking medowntown to the boot store during the family gather-ing in Sheridan. The boots in the picture are definitelythe ones he bought for me because I did not haveanother pair until much later.

I tried those boots on in the store. I didn’t havesocks on, but I wouldn’t take those boots off. I worehuge blisters on the sides of my ankles that are stillcalloused. Contributing to the problem was the factthat I didn’t want to ever take them off. It lent a newdimension to my mother’s problems with getting meinto the bath tub!

He also gave me his own personal knife. He usedit in the movies and it had his initials on it. I don’tknow what happened to the knife. In moving I sup-pose we lost it. I sure wish I still had it.

My Aunt Beatrice (Pete) Springfield was the realbeacon for Audie and I didn’t realize at the time justwhat he had been through. Pete kept a scrapbook ofpictures and other mementoes that my cousin Nelda[Payton Slaughter] ended up with after Pete and hermother passed away. I’m not sure if Nelda has themovie film, but Pete had some 8mm of Audie visitingVan Alstyne, TX with his friend Sgt. Everett Bran-don, a Highway Patrolman, during the early 50s, whichwas the last time I saw him.

Pete and Shorty—as we called Audie—were greatfriends and Pete kept in close contact with him all

Lula Springfield, Audie and Jim Reynolds (wearing hisnew boots)—1950

through the war and for several years after. Most ofus just remember him like another member of the fam-ily. It was only after reading several bios that I realizedhow unique he really was.


“I remember him driving up to the big familygathering in Sheridan in that car. I couldn’t tellyou exactly what it was, but it was very fancycompared to all the other cars. I remembermost of the cars were painted black and Ithought all cars were painted black until heshowed up.”

[Audie Murphy wrote this article forThe 1957 FILM SHOW ANNUAL.]

Our American Navy has a recruit-ing slogan used to lure young, able-bodied men into joining up for a hitchor two. On posters throughout almostevery city in every state, you can see it:“JOIN THE NAVY AND SEE THEWORLD.”

Hollywood could well adopt thisslogan from the Navy, though, for pic-ture-making has become a global affairduring the years since World War IIended, and almost any actor can nowsee the world just by pursuing his ca-reer.

I know. I’ve seen a good part of itjust within in the past year or two. Forinstance, I was in Tokyo for severalmonths when we were making JOE BUT-

TERFLY for my home studio of Univer-sal-International. I’d scarcely arrivedback and unpacked my bags in my homein the San Fernando Valley when Acad-emy Award-winning director JoeMankiewicz called me and asked if I’dbe interested in appearing in a picturehe was then preparing, called THEQUIET AMERICAN.

At that time I hadn’t yet read thebook by Graham Greene from which thepicture was to be made, but I felt thatanything Mr. Mankiewicz would dowould be good, so I said yes. I didn’trealize that by saying yes I would haveto pack my bags once again, kiss mywife Pam and two boys, Terry and Skip-per, good-bye, and plane out for a fivemonths’ journey in Europe that wouldeventually cover Saigon, Hong Kong,Rome and Paris.

But pack my bags I did, and off Iwent. Our first location was in Saigon,where we were scheduled to remain foralmost eight weeks. I’d never been therebefore, and I found the people to be re-served, unobtrusive and understand-ing. Naturally, they’d heard that a moviecompany was arranging to make pic-tures there, and consequently therewere quite a few at the airport when wedisembarked. They followed us to ourhotel and would congregate out thereand in the lobby during the days, wait-ing to look, but they wouldn’t botherus. Very polite.

I remember one day I didn’t haveto work, so I remained in my hotel roomat the Majestic. About three in the af-ternoon a room clerk called to politelyinquire when I was going out. I didn’tplan to come down for dinner until about

THE PERFECT PASSPORT

by Audie Murphy


Photo taken by Audie Murphy of the Basilica of Santa Maria della Salute from the Grand Canal Venice, Italy — 1957

6

seven. He murmured something on thephone and hung up. When I did arrivein the lobby, there were several hundredpeople waiting there. I found out laterthey’d been there since three.

Another funny thing was that many of them had passport-size photosof me. I discovered that there was avendor outside who’d set up shop. Thismeans he’d gotten some photos whenhe’d learned we were to location there,spread a handkerchief on a curb, andwas in business.

I remember one evening I was inmy hotel room, lying in bed, just aboutto drop off to sleep. My attention wasdivided between the book in my handand the ceiling where I was watchingthree lizards snapping up mosquitoes.Suddenly I snapped full awake. One ofthe lizards fell, bookmark fashion, ontothe page of the book I held. My firstreaction was that I was glad I’m not oneof those fellows who sleeps on his backwith his mouth open.

It wasn’t too many days after thisincident that I was told I wouldn’t beneeded for a few days for the film, so Idecided to fly to Hong Kong and do alittle shopping for my wife. I was doingjust fine with my souvenir buying, butnot so good in the health department. Ikept feeling ill, so just before flying backto Saigon, I stopped by a doctor’s for apill or something. A few hours later I

was in the Matilda War and MemorialHospital, having my appendix out. Al-though I had excellent care there, I didwish at the time that I was home in theSan Fernando Valley with Pam and thekids.

When I called Pam to tell her aboutthe operation, she was ready to fly tomy bedside but I told her, “Nothing do-ing. You’re not going to use my illnessas an excuse to go shopping in HongKong.” Actually, I’d been asking her tocome over for quite a while, but I didn’t

want her there when I was sick. Pamhad never been to Europe before so Iwanted to be well enough to show her agood time when she arrived.

It was a little rough, though. I didn’thave time to recuperate fully from theoperation because Mr. Mankiewicz andthe rest of the troupe were waiting backin Saigon for me so they could continueshooting the picture. I returned theretwo weeks after the operation and wentto work. The damp tropical climate madethe cut heal slowly. Actually, it wasn’tuntil weeks later in Rome that it finallyhealed completely.

When we finished up filming inSaigon and went to Rome to shoot theinteriors for the picture, Pam joined us.In fact, we celebrated our seventh wed-ding anniversary there. Pam and I by-passed the regular tourist spots in Romeand rented a car so that we could spenda day driving through the countryside.I think you can get a better feeling abouta country by getting out of the citiesand roaming through the small townsand villages.

Travelling is a wonderful and excit-ing part of movie-making now, but Ithink I’ve had enough of “seeing theworld”—for a while, at least. I want tospend the next few months seeing theSan Fernando Valley.


Photo taken by Audie Murphy of his wife, Pamela, sightseeing inVenice, Italy — 1957


Photo of Pam taken by Audie while riding in a gondola past the Ca’ d’Oro on the Grand Canal in Venice, Italy — 1957

Audie Murphy—1957

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I was drafted in November of 1943and took my basic training in Louisi-ana—Fort Polk and Camp Claiborne.They gave us training on the “Mark”:that’s the Pacific Line railroad. Then wewere sent overseas to the replacementdepot in Casablanca where I was as-signed to the Railroad Battalion as a lo-comotive fireman. What a rip-off!

From Casablanca I went to Oran.We stayed there for a couple of weeks.I remember that Christmas Eve. SomeGIs who had been wounded were goinghome. They were being sent back tothe states in a B-24. It hit the mountain.At that time we were having supper. Weran up the hill — OHHHH what a messthat was! Everybody was killed.

They finally took us over to Italyon a boat. We went to a town calledPozzuoli, just outside of Naples. There’sa race track there. We were in a replace-ment depot there for a couple of weeks.I was one of about half a dozen Chineseguys in the replacement depot. WhenGeneral Truscott got promoted they puthim in the 6th Corps. They gave us

Chinese “unfortunates” a so-called“special platoon.” In the army they callthem “dog robbers.” We took care ofthe colonels and other officers. Wewere the officers’ valets. I didn’t likethat at all. I wanted to be an infantry-man. Anyway, I got thrown out of divi-sion headquarters.

They sent me to the 3rd Divisionreplacement depot at Epinal, France.They picked me and some other guysout and sent us to Nancy on March 15th,1945. That’s where I met Audie Mur-phy. He was a second lieutenant. A frag-ile looking little guy. I don’t think heweighed 105, 110 pounds. I wasn’t verybig. I weighed 130 myself, but he was alittle skinny guy and very friendly.

He looked at me, he looked at thelist, and says, “Ohhhh, you’re really aGFU.” I’ll always remember that. Hesaid, “Hey, Chin! You had a nice cushjob at division headquarters. You reallyARE a GFU!” I said, “What’s so goodabout being a valet?”

He was a skinny little guy, youknow what I mean. He got the promo-

tions from his actions, but, you know,he was just a regular guy. He told me,he said, “Chin, I’ll give you a good job.You can carry the radio.” I said, “Thehell with that. I don’t want it. I want tostay with the riflemen.”

Murphy says, “OK.”So, this kid who just came over

from the states, John Ziemba, gets thejob. He was a nice kid. They sent us upto the Siegfried Line and that night ourown artillery fell short a couple of hun-dred feet right on top of us. We got hitby our own artillery and Ziemba waskilled. We couldn’t stop the artillery sowe finally shot a flare. When they shotthe flare the artillery shut down, but bythen quite a few of our guys were dead.I don’t know how many, but there werequite a few.

Ziemba was a nice kid. He got killedbecause he was running around withthe radio instead of being under cover.Murphy had wanted to give me the joband I said, “The hell with you. I’mgonna take my chances with my rifle,my M-1.” He said, “Oh, well, OK. I was

EXCERPTS FROM SEPTEMBER 9, 1997 INTERVIEW WITHLUN CHIN

Courtesy of Richard H. Wood

Left to right: “Lucky” Caldwell, Lun Chin, Bill Boyd and Kansas Bob RoebuckAustria—July 1945

8

just trying to give you a good job.” Isaid, “No, no the heck with it.” If I’dtaken it I would be the one pushing updaisies in Germany instead of poorZiemba.

Even so, I was one of those un-lucky guys that got hurt on the SiegfriedLine. What happened was that we wereat the Siegfried Line and a couple shellsfell on the bunker and killed a coupleguys.

Murphy was on the Siegfried Linewith us, I remember. When we first gotthere, we bivouacked at night. I guessabout four or five o’clock, just when yousee the light, we had a smoke screen allover the place. The first thing we arelooking at are rows and rows of thedragon’s teeth and then we look in thedistance, about a couple hundred yardsaway from us, there’s one of those bigtanks with a blade. They were bulldoz-

ing, you know. And this second lieu-tenant that we had, not Murphy, he said“Hey, Chin. You carry—” I can’t re-member what it’s called but it’s like apole with TNT. [bangalore torpedo]The Germans were shooting everyoneand I said I wasn’t going to carry thatdown there. I’m not a coward but I wassmart enough to stay under cover. AndI hid behind a rock for a while until itcalmed down. When it calmed down,we finally went into those dragon’steeth. It was quite an experience.

One thing that Audie did. He wasable to take us off the line at Nurnbergfor some R and R. He put Cannon Com-pany in our place and those poor kidsin Cannon Company really got shot up.

After the war Audie tried to get mea job as a movie actor or something. Hehad Lloyd Nolan and Jimmy Gleasonand a couple of fellas come down to try

to negotiate something. But it didn’twork out. He sent me a movie picture ofhim with a horse. I wish I could find it.My wife put it away somewhere. Hewrote, “Best wishes to Chin from Au-die,” on it. When my wife saw it shesaid, “Why are you getting pictures ofmovie cowboys?” I said, “Hey, that’smy CO.”

I saw him when he was in Bostonfor the premiere of TO HELL ANDBACK. He said, “There’s an awful lotof phonies in this business, you know.”I said a lot of people think I’m a phonywhen I say I know Audie Murphy. Theylook at me like, why would a guy likehim know a guy like you?

Well, I did. I was with Baker Com-pany from March 15th, 1945 to the endof the war.

HOW AUDIE MURPHY WON HIS MEDALSBy David “Spec” McClure

PART VIIOn the day after the machine-gun

incident, Murphy had a new grievance.A German, shooting from the slope,killed two members of Company B.Murphy, who had previously advisedColonel Paulick to stay off the hill, nowasked Captain Harris for permission togo up himself and look for the sniper.He was granted permission on the con-dition that he take three men with him.Audie started out with the three, but, aswas his custom, he soon put them un-der cover and proceeded alone.

“It was simply safer that way,” heexplained. “With four men threshingthrough the underbrush, that sniperwould have been sure to spot one of usand perhaps kill us all. I knew he wouldbe using a high-powered rifle with a tele-scopic sight. He would also be camou-flaged and looking for targets throughbinoculars. That was how snipers oper-ated. Nevertheless, I had to take thisone on alone, or not at all.”

Murphy guessed the approximateposition of the sniper by studying theangle from which his men had been shotand the terrain over which the bullets

had come. “He had to be in a certainspot to get clearances to our linesthrough the heavy underbrush,” saidAudie, “but I knew he had moved. Snip-ers always moved after making a kill.Finding his new position before he spot-ted me was my problem. This is the lone-liest game on earth: two men stalkingeach other with powerful guns; two mentrained to kill in split seconds; two menwithout an atom of mercy toward eachother.”

Before beginning the stalk, Audieshed all of his unessential equipment,including his helmet. For the deadlyhunt he had chosen several hand gre-nades and a carbine. He always favoredthe short, light carbine for fighting inforests and brush. Slithering and crawl-ing carefully so that he would not snapa twig, he inched up the slope, depend-ing upon the dense underbrush forcover.

On a hunch he headed for the hugeboulder which had sheltered the ma-chine-gun crew on the previous day.There were firepaths for shooting down-hill at this spot. But the sniper wouldbe too canny to use the exact position

of the machine-gun crew. However, hemight be lurking somewhere close-by.Audie reached the boulder, stood up,and began to inch his way around, us-ing his left hand for support on the rock.

“I sensed the presence of thatsniper,” says Murphy, “and he musthave sensed mine.” Some twigs beganto move slowly upward in a clump ofbrush twenty yards away. Audie didnot dare move. With his right hand, hebrought up the carbine and aimed it atwhat proved to be a camouflaged Ger-man helmet. Suddenly the sniper jerkedhis head to one side and looked directlyat Murphy, reacting with startled sur-prise. A second later he was dead.Audie, firing twice, had gone for thebrain. “Call it instinct or a sense of pres-ence,” he says. “Mine worked aboutten seconds faster than his. And thatmade the difference between my life orhis.”

Murphy made a report on his mis-sion to Captain Harris and recommendedthat regular patrols cover the near slopeto discourage snipers and infiltrators.The officer sent a first patrol up to friskthe dead man of items that might be use-

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ful to intelligence. Among other things, the men brought backthe sniper’s rifle and telescopic sight for study.

The Cleurie rock quarry was finally recognized for the toughspot that it was. 105mm assault guns were brought up to pourfive hundred rounds of ammunition directly into the fortress.The wall blocking the eastern end of the quarry was blown upby engineers. The western entrance was opened by tanks firingat point blank. Units were sent out to flank the enemy, destroy-ing one machine-gun nest after the other. On the morning ofOctober 5th, the 1st Battalion moved up to knock out remainingGerman positions. A creeping mortar barrage blasted a path forthe attackers.

Beyond the quarry, the Germans still fought a determineddelaying action. Rain had set in and visibility was poor. The 1stBattalion was stopped again by a peculiar defensive set-up.

Machine guns on a slope were fixed for firing uphill. Inthe flatland beneath, the enemy infantrymen waited infoxholes covered by crisscrosses of trees. Getting atthem with rifles was virtually impossible.

Murphy, leading the 3rd Platoon of Company B,moved down to investigate. The twenty-eight men, hav-ing scant cover, advanced cautiously through the murkylight and eerie stillness. A sniper rifle cracked. An Ameri-can chest was torn open. The wounded man screamedand dropped a case of machine-gun ammunition. Themetallic box clanged against a rock and the noise, to-gether with the scream, telegraphed the platoon positionto the waiting Germans.

The area was immediately swept by enemy machine-gun fire. Six more men were wounded before the platooncould get sufficient cover. Audie, instantly sizing up thesituation, decided that it was bad. He resorted to his oldtheory: No matter how dangerous the situation, keepmoving forward. Grabbing a 536 radio of the walkie-talkietype, he crawled under the slashing fire for fifty yards toa vantage observation point. Deciding to dig out theentrenched Germans with 4.2 chemical mortar shells, heradioed his plan to battalion headquarters and gave themap coordinates for the enemy positions. The recordssay that he maintained his forward outpost for an hour tocorrect the deadly mortar fire. Murphy says the time wasmore likely thirty or forty minutes. He was too busy tothink of clocks.

The Germans discovered his position and tried to killhim with a concentration of rifle and machine-gun fire.The citation states that bullets were hitting within a footof his body. “I doubt that too,” says Audie. “It washardly time for taking measurements. Several Germanswere trying to close in on me and I had to fight them offwith a carbine. I remember killing two at close range.They raised their heads too slowly from behind a log,allowing me to get a bead on their helmets. I just waitedand fired when the foreheads came into view.”

After the smoke cleared, fifteen Germans were deadand thirty-five more wounded, according to records. Forthis action, Audie was awarded a second Silver Star. Thecitation reads in part: “. . . . His courage, audacity andaccuracy enabled his company to advance and attain itsobjective.”

On October 14, 1944 Murphy was called to the rearlong enough to be commissioned a second lieutenant.He took the promotion on the condition that he be al-lowed to remain with Company B. He never had disci-pline problems. “If a goof-off was put under my com-mand,” he says, “I immediately had him transferred out.A single goof-off could imperil the whole company whenwe went into combat.” I saved the post-war letter writtento Murphy by a former enlisted man with Company B.“You were never an officer to us,” the man stated. “Youmay remember that it was your own ‘doggies’ who putyou up for the Medal of Honor. I know that you person-ally saved many lives, including mine.”

James Laughead Photography

Audie showing his sister Nadene the rifle that belonged tothe German sniper Audie killed, which the Army allowed

him to keep—July, 1945

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SSSSSpecial pecial pecial pecial pecial Thanks Thanks Thanks Thanks Thanks TTTTTo:o:o:o:o:DASHLINK, INC. of Killeen, TX for sponsoring the internet address dedicated exclusively to the

Audie L. Murphy Memorial Websitewww.audiemurphy.com

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“Pete was about ten years older than Audie but they werereal close. They wrote to each other a lot during the war. Inhis letters he called her ‘Pal’ and signed them ‘Shorty.’ ”

Ruby Reynolds Springfield—1998

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Director Joe Mankiewicz and Audie Murphy in Saigon, Vietnamduring the filming of THE QUIET AMERICAN—1957

audie murphy research foundationter beatrice—he called her “pete”—quite often. audie and...

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