At 11 hours on the morning of March 23rd, 1945, Staff Sergeant Edward Alan Carter Jr. lay absolutely motionless behind a dirt embankment in a field north of Spay, Germany. Blood from five bullet wounds soaked through his uniform. His Thompson M1 A1 submachine gun was hidden beneath his body.

Flies had begun to land on his face. He did not move. He did not blink. He controlled his breathing to shallow poles that would not lift his chest. 30 m away, eight German soldiers were watching his position. The soldiers believed Carter was dead. They had watched him fall 2 hours earlier after machine gun fire shredded his left arm and leg.

They had seen him collapse behind the embankment and go still. Now they were deciding whether to approach the body. Carter had fought in three wars before this moment. China in 1932 when he was 15 years old, Spain in 1937 against Franco’s fascists. Now Germany in 1945. He spoke four languages fluently. He had been a left tenant in the Chinese nationalist army.

He had survived two years with the Abraham Lincoln Brigade. He had volunteered for combat in this war by accepting demotion from staff sergeant to private because the United States Army refused to let black soldiers fight on the front lines. And now bleeding out in a field in Germany, he was about to turn a child’s game into a killing technique that would save his life and capture intelligence that would take the city of Shpaya with minimal American casualties. the following day.

Carter was born in Los Angeles in 1916 to missionary parents who spent most of his childhood abroad, India first, then China. By age 14, he attended an international military academy in Shanghai where instructors were German, British, and French. He learned languages the way other children learned arithmetic.

Hindi from the streets, Mandarin from classmates, German from instructors, English at home. When the Japanese invaded Shanghai on January 28th, 1932, Carter was 15. He watched the city burn from his dormatory window. 3 days later, he walked out of the school, lied about his age, and enlisted in Chiang Kai-sheks nationalist army. The recruiter asked if he could shoot.

Carter said yes. The recruiter handed him a rifle and pointed toward Japanese positions near Zar Bay. Carter fought in urban combat for 6 weeks. The Chinese promoted him to left tenant because he could read maps and translate radio intercepts. When the school discovered where he was, they pulled him out and shipped him back to the United States.

He was 16 years old with combat experience most soldiers never see. 5 years later, Carter was in Spain. The Spanish Civil War had started in 1936. By 1937, volunteers from across the world were joining the international brigades to fight Francisco Franco’s nationalist forces. Carter joined the Abraham Lincoln Brigade, the American Volunteer Unit.

He fought in the mountains outside Madrid. He fought at Harama and Brunete. He carried a bolt-action rifle and learned that war was not romantic. Men died from infections as often as bullets. Artillery killed more men than courage saved. By 1938, the Republican cause was collapsing. Carter evacuated with the remaining American volunteers.

When he returned to the United States, the FBI opened a file on him. The label was premature anti-fascist, which meant he had fought fascism before it was official American policy. That label would follow him for the rest of his life. When Pearl Harbor was attacked on December 7th, 1941, Carter enlisted immediately. He was 25 years old.

He had more combat experience than most officers in the army. He spoke German fluently, which made him invaluable for intelligence work. The army assigned him to the 3535th Quartermaster Truck Company. He drove supply trucks for 3 years. The reason was simple. He was black. The United States military was segregated.

Black soldiers could load supplies, drive trucks, dig latrines, but they could not fight. Carter spent 1942, 1943, and most of 1944 driving ammunition and rations to white soldiers who were fighting the war he had volunteered to join. In December 1944, during the Battle of the Bulge, the situation changed. The German offensive in the Arden created a manpower crisis.

The army needed infantry replacements immediately. General Eisenhower approved a plan to allow black soldiers from support units to volunteer for combat roles. The condition was that any man who volunteered had to accept demotion in rank. Staff Sergeant Carter, who had been leading a truck platoon, was told he could fight if he became a private.

He accepted without hesitation. Carter later told another soldier, “The rank doesn’t matter. Let me fight.” In January 1945, Carter was assigned to the 7th Army Provisional Infantry Company number one, a volunteer unit composed entirely of black soldiers from service battalions. The unit was attached to the 56th Armored Infantry Battalion of the 12th Armored Division.

Carter’s leadership was so obvious that he was promoted back to Staff Sergeant within 3 weeks. By March, the 12th Armored Division was driving east through southern Germany toward the Rin River. On March 23rd, the division’s objective was to capture Shpaya and secure the bridge across the Rine before German forces could destroy it. The morning began at 08:30 hours.

Carter was riding on the deck of an M4 Sherman tank moving north along the road toward Shpaya. The tank was part of a column advancing through flat agricultural land with no cover. Visibility was excellent. The weather was clear and cold. Carter carried his Thompson M1 A1, 5 round magazines, a Colt M1911A1 pistol, a canteen, and a first aid kit with sulfur powder and tablets.

His total loadout weighed approximately 16 kg. At 0832, the lead Sherman exploded. The noise was a flat crack followed by the metallic shriek of armor tearing. A panzer Shrek round had struck the front glacis plate. The tank stopped. Smoke poured from the engine compartment. Carter and the other men riding on the decks jumped off and took cover behind the disabled vehicle.

Seconds later, machine gun fire swept across the road. The sound was the tearing cloth rip of an MG42 firing at 1,200 rounds per minute. Bullets sparked off the Sherman’s armor and kicked up dirt along the roadside. Carter’s platoon leader pointed toward a warehouse 300 m to the west. Intelligence had indicated that German forces were using the building as a strong point.

The MG42 fire was coming from that direction. The problem was the terrain between the road and the warehouse. It was a flat open field with no trees, no ditches, no cover of any kind. 150 yards of exposure. The platoon leader told Carter to take three men and reconoid to the warehouse, find out how many Germans were inside, where the machine guns were positioned, and whether the building could be bypassed or had to be taken by assault.

Carter picked three soldiers and began moving across the field. The men spread out in a staggered line and ran in short bursts. 20 m. Drop. Scan. Run again. At 40 m, the first man was killed. A single shot from a rifle. He dropped without a sound. The other two men froze. Carter kept moving.

At 60 m, the second man was hit. He screamed and tried to crawl back toward the road. The third man turned and ran. Carter was alone. He kept advancing. The MG42 opened fire again, not at him specifically, just suppressive bursts sweeping the field. Carter dropped flat and crawled forward. 70 m from the warehouse. The German riflemen had range.

One bullet hit Carter’s left arm. The impact felt like being struck with a baseball bat. His arm went numb instantly. He rolled to his right and kept crawling. A second bullet hit his left arm again higher near the shoulder. Bone cracked. He could hear it inside his skull. A third bullet hit his left arm just above the elbow. The arm was destroyed.

He could not move his fingers. Carter reached a low embankment. a raised dirt road bank about 30 cm high. He rolled behind it and pressed himself flat. The embankment provided minimal cover, but it was the only cover in the entire field. He tried to reach for his canteen with his left hand. The hand would not respond.

He reached across his body with his right hand and pulled the canteen from his belt. As he brought it to his mouth, a bullet punched through his left hand and destroyed the canteen. Water and blood mixed together and soaked into his sleeve. A fifth bullet hit his left leg. His thigh muscles spasmed and locked.

He tried to stand. He could not. Carter assessed the situation. He could not advance. He could not retreat. He could not walk. The Germans knew where he was. Eventually, they would send a patrol to confirm the kill or they would call in mortar fire to eliminate him. He had one advantage.

The Germans believed he was as good as dead. A man with five gunshot wounds in an open field was not a threat. Carter made his decision. He reached into his first aid pouch and pulled out a packet of sulfur powder. He tore it open with his teeth and dumped the powder over the wounds on his arm. The pain was immediate and sharp, like acid. He did the same for his leg.

He swallowed two sulfur tablets dry. Then he positioned himself to appear dead. He laid flat on his back with his ruined left arm stretched out. He placed the Thompson under his body where he could not be seen, but where he could reach the grip with his right hand. He angled his head so his face was visible, but his eyes were barely open, just slits that allowed him to see without appearing conscious.

Then he stopped moving. The time was 0900 hours. Carter did not know how long the Germans would wait before approaching. He controlled his breathing. Shallow pulls through his nose. No chest rise. Flies landed on his face. He did not react. The sun climbed higher and the temperature rose. Blood continued to seep from his wounds, but more slowly now.

The sulfur was working, clotting. Pain radiated from his arm and leg in waves. He focused on the sound of his own heartbeat and counted the seconds. At some point he stopped counting. Time became elastic. The field was silent except for distant artillery and the occasional crack of rifle fire from other sectors. Carter listened for footsteps.

He heard voices instead. German voices from the direction of the warehouse. The words were unclear, but the tone was conversational, not alarmed, not cautious. The Germans were discussing something routine. Carter understood the language. One voice said something about the American lying in the field. Another voice laughed.

A third voice said they should check the body for intelligence or equipment. The voices grew louder. Carter kept his breathing shallow. He estimated eight men based on the number of distinct voices and the pattern of footsteps. They were walking, not running. confident. The footsteps reached the embankment. 30 m, 20 m. Carter heard equipment rattling, rifle slings, cantens, boots crunching on dry earth. 10 m, 5 m.

The footsteps stopped directly above him. Someone said, “He tot is he dead?” Someone else kicked Carter’s boot. Carter did not react. The pain in his leg flared, but he kept his muscles loose. A hand reached toward his shoulder, probably checking for identification tags or valuables. Carter opened his eyes fully. He wrapped his right hand around the Thompson’s pistol grip and pulled the weapon out from under his body in one motion.

The German soldiers were standing in a loose cluster around him, all eight within 5 m. Carter sat up and fired. The Thompson recoiled against his shoulder. The muzzle blast was deafening at close range. He fired in short, controlled bursts. Three rounds. Shift. Three rounds. Shift. Three rounds. The first three Germans dropped immediately.

The fourth and fifth tried to turn. Carter shot them in the back. The sixth soldier ran three steps before Carter’s burst hit him between the shoulder blades. Six men down in less than 4 seconds. 18 rounds fired. 12 rounds remaining in the magazine. The last two Germans dropped their rifles and raised their hands.

One of them screamed, “Camarad, camarad, surrender.” The other stood frozen with his mouth open. Carter kept the Thompson aimed at them and pushed himself to his feet. His left leg collapsed. He caught himself with his right hand on the ground and used the Thompson’s barrel to lever himself upright.

He kept the weapon pointed at the two prisoners. Carter’s German was fluent and unacented. He said, “Vafenve Henderhawk. Weapons on the ground. Hands up.” The two soldiers dropped their Carabina 98K rifles and raised their hands higher. Carter saw the confusion on their faces. A black American soldier who spoke perfect German.

Carter kicked the rifles away and pulled out his Colt M1911 A1 pistol. The Thompson was difficult to aim one-handed. The pistol was easier to control. He holstered the Thompson and pointed the pistol at the nearest prisoner. The MG42 position at the warehouse was still active. Carter could hear the gun firing at other American positions along the road.

The gunner had not seen the confrontation at the embankment. Carter looked at the two prisoners and then at the open field between his position and the American lines. 100 m. No cover. If he tried to walk back alone, the MG42 would cut him down. If he tried to walk back with two prisoners who could run or fight, he would be killed. He needed insurance.

Carter positioned the first prisoner directly in front of him, close enough that the barrel of the cult pressed into the man’s back. He told the second prisoner to walk directly behind him. The arrangement created a human shield. Carter in the middle. One prisoner blocking any fire from the warehouse. One prisoner blocking any fire from behind.

He told them, “Gue Langam, walk slowly.” The three men began moving east toward the American lines. As they walked, Carter interrogated the prisoners. His questions were specific and tactical. How many machine guns at the warehouse? Three MG42s, the lead prisoner said. Where are the anti-tank guns? Two PAK 4075 mm guns.

One northwest of the warehouse, one southeast. How many men total? Between 40 and 60 soldiers. Are there bunkers? Yes, one command bunker 200 m west of the warehouse. Carter asked follow-up questions and cross-checked the answers between the two prisoners. The information matched. The walk back took 10 minutes. Carter’s left leg dragged.

Each step pumped blood through the wounds. His uniform was soaked from the waist down. The prisoners were terrified and obedient. When they reached the American lines, soldiers emerged from cover behind the disabled Sherman. An officer approached cautiously with his rifle raised. Carter identified himself and handed over the two prisoners.

The officer tried to call for a medic. Carter refused. He said, “Intelligence first.” The battalion S2 intelligence officer arrived within 5 minutes. Carter debriefed while still standing. He described the three MG42 positions with compass bearings and estimated ranges. He described the two PAC 40 positions with precision. He described the command bunker’s location and the approximate strength of the German force.

The S2 officer took notes and marked positions on a map. The information was relayed to the artillery battalion. Within 20 minutes, American guns began firing on the coordinates Carter provided. Only after the debriefing did Carter allow medics to treat him. He collapsed onto a stretcher. The medics cut away his uniform and examined the wounds.

Five entry wounds, three in the left arm, one through the left hand, one in the left thigh. Two of the arm wounds had exit wounds. The hand wound had shattered the metacarpal bones. The leg wound was a through and through that had missed the femoral artery by cm. The medics gave him morphine and plasma. He was evacuated to a field hospital 6 kilometers behind the lines.

At the field hospital, surgeons cleaned and sutured the wounds. During surgery, they discovered metal fragments embedded in Carter’s neck and upper chest. The fragments were not from the March 23rd engagement. They were old shrapnel, likely from his time in China or Spain. The surgeons decided not to remove the fragments.

The risk of surgery outweighed the benefit. Carter would carry the metal for the rest of his life. Carter survived. He spent 6 weeks recovering. During that time, the intelligence he provided proved critical. The American artillery destroyed the three MG42 nests and both PAC 40 positions. American tanks pushed through the gap and entered Shpaya on March 24th.

The city fell with fewer casualties than expected. Battalion commanders credited Carter’s reconnaissance with saving lives. Carter’s commanding officer recommended him for the Medal of Honor. The recommendation was supported by afteraction reports, witness statements, and the intelligence officer’s debrief notes.

The recommendation moved up the chain of command. In May 1945, it was downgraded. Carter received a distinguished service cross instead. The reason for the downgrade was not documented in official records. Historical analysis suggests two factors. First, systemic racism. No black soldier received the Medal of Honor during World War II until a 1997 review corrected the historical record.

Second, Carter’s background. The FBI file labeled him a communist sympathizer because of his service in the Spanish Civil War. That label influenced military decisions throughout his career. After the war, Carter attempted to reinlist in 1949. The army rejected his application. The reason given was vague, referencing security concerns.

The actual reason was the FBI file. The McCarthy era had begun. Veterans of the Abraham Lincoln Brigade were blacklisted from military service and government employment. Carter’s combat record and decorations did not matter. His service in Spain in 1937 disqualified him. Carter worked civilian jobs in Los Angeles. He married and had a son, Edward Carter III.

He rarely discussed the war. Friends and family knew he had served, but few knew the details. The metal fragments in his chest caused chronic health problems. Doctors could not remove them safely. In 1963, Carter developed lung cancer. Doctors attributed the cancer to the embedded shrapnel, which had been slowly corroding and releasing toxins for more than 20 years.

Edward Alan Carter Jr. died on January 30th, 1963. He was 46 years old. He was buried at Evergreen Cemetery in Los Angeles. His son later said that Carter died believing his country had betrayed him. In 1993, the United States Army commissioned a study to review combat decorations awarded to black soldiers during World War II.

Researchers at Shaw University examined records and identified soldiers who had been recommended for the Medal of Honor, but received lesser awards. The study found systemic evidence of racial bias in the awards process. Edward Carter was one of seven soldiers selected for review. On January 13th, 1997, President Bill Clinton presented the Medal of Honor to seven black World War II veterans.

Six of the awards were postuous. Edward Carter III accepted his father’s medal at a ceremony in the White House. The citation described the action of March 23rd, 1945 in clinical detail. It noted that Carter crossed an open field under fire, was wounded five times, killed six enemy soldiers, captured two prisoners, and obtained valuable intelligence.

The citation concluded, “Staff Sergeant Carter’s extraordinary heroism and devotion to duty are in keeping with the highest traditions of military service and reflect great credit upon himself, his unit, and the United States Army.” Edward Carter III held the medal in both hands and did not speak. His father had waited 51 years, 9 months, and 21 days for recognition.

Edward Carter Jr. never knew it was coming. He died 34 years before the ceremony. The intelligence he captured in that field in Shpa saved American lives the next day. The trick he used, playing dead and waiting for the enemy to approach, was not taught in any manual. It was desperation converted into tactics.

Six Germans killed, two captured. A city taken with reduced casualties. It took the United States Army half a century to admit the obvious. Carter had done the work. The medal sits in a display case now, held by his son. The story is recorded, but Carter never knew. That is the part that remains unfinished. A soldier who fought in three wars and spoke four languages.

A man who accepted demotion to fight for a country that refused to let him fight because of his skin color. A man who was denied reinlistment because he had fought fascism before it was politically convenient. A man who died from shrapnel embedded in his chest from wars most Americans never heard about. Edward Carter Jr.

earned the Medal of Honor in a field outside Shpa on March 23rd, 1945. He received it on January 13th, 1997. He had been dead for 34 years. If this story moved you, if it made you angry or proud or sad, leave a comment, share it. The soldiers like Carter who were denied recognition in life deserve recognition now.

Stories like this cannot disappear. Carter did the work. The country took 52 years to say thank you. That delay is permanent. But the record is corrected. Edward Allan Carter Jr., Medal of Honor recipient. Three wars, four languages, five bullets, six kills, two prisoners, one trick that saved his life and changed the outcome of a battle.

The Pawsome trick worked. The recognition came late, but it