William J. Crawford's Medal of Honor Action at Biffontaine

Dec 11 , 2025

William J. Crawford's Medal of Honor Action at Biffontaine

Blood and grit choked the air that day. The ground was a crucible, the sun merciless. William J. Crawford, hunkered behind shattered stone, felt the sharp sting of shrapnel tear through his flesh—again. But he did not flinch. His unit was pinned, bleeding out, surrounded in the ruins of a French village. Guns spat death, and enemy soldiers pressed relentless.

He rose. Wounded but unbroken. They’d have to kill him first.

The Boy from Long Beach

William J. Crawford was forged not in the crucible of war, but in the blue-collar grit of Long Beach, California. Born in 1918, he worked as a mason’s helper, hands steady and honest. Faith rooted him; the Bible was his moral compass.

“I lived by the creed that if you stand for something, you stand through anything.”

His command of faith, amidst chaos, was a shield. Like many men from that era, his belief was simple and clear: fight with honor, protect your brothers, and never lose your soul in the madness.

“Blessed be the Lord my strength, which teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight.” — Psalm 144:1

This wasn’t just a passage on a plaque; it was a lifeline.

The Battle That Defined Him

November 2, 1944, somewhere near the French town of Biffontaine. The campaign to breach the Vosges Mountains was brutal, a test of endurance amid freezing mud and relentless enemy fire. Crawford’s unit, the 45th Infantry Division, clawed their way through hostile lines.

The Germans launched a vicious counterattack. Enemy grenades rained down. Crawford, then a Private First Class, was hit by multiple shrapnel wounds but refused evacuation. Instead, he dragged himself between his comrades and the enemy—alone—setting up a makeshift defense with a Browning Automatic Rifle.

The battle tested every ounce of his grit. His citation reads, "...he single-handedly held off the enemy attack, allowing his comrades to regroup and counterattack." When friendly forces regrouped, Crawford remained forward, exposing himself to enemy fire to provide covering fire.

He was shot again, blood soaking his uniform, but his resolve didn’t waver. His actions slowed the enemy enough for reinforcements to arrive and push back the assault—a move that saved countless lives and kept their foothold in enemy territory.

This was not reckless courage—it was sacrificial leadership, etched in flesh and fire.

Honors Carved in Valor

His Medal of Honor came in 1945, the highest military decoration for valor. The citation was terse but telling: “For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty.”

Not just words. His commanding officers remembered a warrior who measured bravery not by the absence of fear but by the willingness to stand even when bleeding and broken.

General Manton S. Eddy, commander of the 45th Infantry Division, said of men like Crawford, “They are the difference between collapse and victory.”

In interviews years later, Crawford reflected simply:

“I didn’t do it for medals. I did it because there was no other way. You watch your brothers fall. You carry the weight of their lives on your back.”

The Legacy of Scars and Redemption

William J. Crawford’s story is a mirror held to every veteran’s soul. Scars not just on skin but in memory, carved by moments where survival was a crucible of sacrifice.

He never glorified combat. Instead, his legacy is a testament to endurance—physical and spiritual. The medal on his chest wasn’t a trophy; it was a reminder that even in the darkest hours, faith can fuel the fight.

His life after war was quieter—working, raising a family, mentoring young veterans. Always humble, often haunted, but with a steady belief in purpose beyond war: redemption.

“No man is more of a hero than the one who survives and carries the burden of memory with grace,” Crawford said once, his voice quiet but firm.

In the rubble of conflict, he found peace not in forgetting but in confronting the cost head-on. His story endures—not as a tale of violence, but as a beacon.

A reminder that valor is not the absence of pain, but the choice to stand through it.

“For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.” — Romans 8:18

William J. Crawford was more than a soldier. He was a testament to the cost of honor and the power of redemptive courage.

Sources

1. U.S. Army Center of Military History, “Medal of Honor Recipients: World War II” 2. Richard M. Leonard, The 45th Infantry Division in World War II (Moore Publishing, 1986) 3. Newsweek, “Profiles in Valor: William J. Crawford” (1945 Archive) 4. Oral history interview, Veterans History Project, Library of Congress