Francis Bernard Munski
| NAME: Francis Bernard Munski | NICKNAME: Frank, “Doc” | SERVICE NUMBER: 660 31 32 | |||||
| HOME OF RECORD: Lewistown, MT | NEXT OF KIN: Mother, Stefania “Fannie” Munski | ||||||
| DATE OF BIRTH: 6/11/1907 | SERVICE DATES: 4/14/1942 – 10/17/1945 | DATE OF DEATH: 8/10/1989 | |||||
| CAMPAIGN | UNIT | MOS | RATE | RESULT | |||
| Roi-Namur | D/1/24 | Corpsman | Pharmacist’s Mate 2c | ||||
| Saipan | HQ/1/24 | Corpsman | Pharmacist’s Mate 2c | ||||
| Tinian | HQ/1/24 | Corpsman | Pharmacist’s Mate 2c | ||||
| Iwo Jima | Rear Echelon | — | — | ||||
| INDIVIDUAL DECORATIONS: Legion of Merit | LAST KNOWN RANK: Pharmacist’s Mate First Class | ||||||
Francis Munski was born on 11 June 1907, in the North Moccasin Mountains of central Montana. His parents, Adam and Fannie, were Polish immigrants who made a life for themselves and their large family – there would eventually be twelve Munski children – at the gold mining camp of Kendall. The town was booming when “Frank” was a young boy; Adam’s mining job pulled in $3 per day, and the region produced as much as $15 million in gold. Unfortunately for Kendall, the big Barnes-King mine folded in 1920. As “schools, store, and shops went over like a stack of dominoes,” the Munskis wisely moved on and settled in Lewistown.[1] Adam continued working as a miner until declining health rendered him “an invalid for some years” before his death in 1932.
Frank finished his education in Lewiston, and after graduating from Fergus County High School entered the work force as a miller at a cement plant. He held this job for more than a decade as his siblings followed their own paths through adulthood. Some worked as laborers in the farms, ranches, and brickyards of Fergus County. A younger brother, “Lonesome” John Munski, earned a scholarship to the University of Missouri and won fame as a long distance runner. Two others, up against hard times, were busted for minor crimes and spent time in state prison. In 1940, those of age registered for Selective Service.
And when the war finally came, five of the six boys – Frank, Joe, Stan, Walt, and John – wound up in the service.
Frank joined the Navy on 14 April 1942, and after completing his boot camp training as an apprentice seaman was selected for hospital school. He was deemed suitable for tough duty, and in early 1943 reported to Medical Field Service School at Camp Elliott, California, to learn the necessary skills for service with the Fleet Marine Force. Munski completed this phase of training on 26 April 1943, and joined the Fourth Medical Battalion, 24th Marines as a pharmacist’s mate third class. On 7 May, he was assigned to the First Battalion, 24th Marines as a corpsman.
“Doc” Munski was nearly thirty-six when he joined 1/24; he was the oldest man in the medical detachment by a considerable margin. Even his boss, Lt. (j.g.) Francis J. Shiring, was three years his junio. His relatively advanced age gave Munski an air of authority over the young Marines he treated, and his promotion to pharmacist’s mate second class on 1 July 1943 further bespoke his abilities.
The summer, fall, and winter of 1943 were spent in training at Camp Pendleton, California. The battalion’s medical section underwent a series of structural changes, including the arrival of two new surgeons. The core of petty officers remained largely unchanged, however, and Munski knew the men of his assigned platoon – the 81mm mortar section of “Dog” Company – almost as well as his own brothers. He earned their trust treating scrapes, sprains, and other routine injuries incurred during hikes and exercises.[2]
On 11 January 1944, Doc Munski carried his medical bags, personal gear, and weapon aboard the transport USS DuPage; two days later, he was sailing out across the Pacific. He would see his first action, and treat his first combat casualties, in the battle of Roi-Namur in early February. Compared with later campaigns, Namur was a short and relatively bloodless fight; out of 200 Marines in Dog Company, fifteen suffered wounds ranging from minor cuts to fatal shots. Other units suffered far worse, and after the battle Munski was detached to assist with casualties aboard a transport ship. On the long trip from the Marshall Islands to Pearl Harbor, Munski cared for thirty-five badly wounded Marines; his conduct was so professional and efficient that the ship’s officers singled him out for special praise.[3]
Photograph by John C. Pope
Following the conquest of the Marshall Islands, the 4th Marine Division sailed for Hawaii to rest and re-train at Camp Maui. Their next objective was Saipan in the Mariana Islands, and it would prove to be a far more difficult fight. Munski’s mortar platoon hit the beach on 15 June 1944; within hours, he was treating his platoon leader for a gunshot wound that ultimately proved fatal. Over the next thirty days, the corpsman from Montana would have countless chances to put his training and instincts to use.
PFC John C. Pope recalled seeing Munski in action. A single Japanese machine gun was holding up a group of Marines, and one of Pope’s buddies was “playing cowboy” – seeing if the enemy gunners would take a shot at a helmet raised on a rifle muzzle. When word came to rush the house, Pope’s buddy made the mistake of standing straight up. “A bullet hit him in the chest,” said Pope. “He collapsed and fell across me. I instinctively reached around him and put my hand in a hole in his chest. The blood was surprisingly warm and sticky. It was my first time to have a handful of blood. Munski, our corpsman, got to him immediately and began to work on him. I thought he was hopeless. Munski later said [the wounded man] was one of those people with his heart located just far enough out of place to be missed completely. And the bullet did not do the damage it would have done otherwise.”[4]
Munski was most visible during a tough fight on 18 June 1944. A Japanese counterattack threatened to overwhelm his battalion’s position, and cut off access to aid stations in the rear. Acting on his own initiative, Munski set up his own forward triage area and set to work treating every man who needed care. As “the only hospital corpsman in the area,” Munski was “personally responsible for the treatment and evacuation of 35 casualties from his own battalion and those of another battalion in the area” – a total of 57 wounded men, according to contemporary newspaper reports.[5]
Munski continued his exemplary service for the entire thirty-day battle for Saipan, and the subsequent campaign for Tinian. The battalion, terribly weakened by casualties and the strain of nearly two months of constant fighting, returned to Camp Maui in mid-August 1944. A number of promotions were in order; Munski was on the list, with a combat meritorious advancement to the rate of Pharmacist’s Mate First Class. On 22 August, he learned that he was in line for a decoration – a Silver Star Medal for gallantry in action on Saipan. The recommendation was later changed to reflect his lifesaving abilities, and Munski was ultimately awarded the Legion of Merit. He was the only enlisted man in the First Battalion, 24th Marines to receive this distinction during the war.
The fall of 1944 also brought personal challenges for Doc Munski. On 1 September, he was admitted to a Navy hospital – probably the effects of weeks of campaigning in the Marianas – and was off his feet for nearly three weeks. A few days after returning to duty, he received bad news from home. His mother Fannie, who found local fame as the mother who sent so many sons off to war, died at the age of 64.
As one of the battalion’s most experienced and well-known hospital corpsmen, Frank Munski doubtless had a busy schedule through the winter months of 1944-1945. There were new men to integrate with the medical section, from junior hospital apprentices to a new assistant surgeon. Field training intensified as more replacements joined the Marine ranks and all hands prepared for another battle. Whenever possible, the corpsmen took advantage of liberty in the small towns around Camp Maui, and the occasional trip over to the “Big Island.” Munski received his Legion of Merit in a ceremony on 21 December 1944; if he was the type to celebrate, he certainly did on that evening.
Photograph by John C. Pope
A few days after receiving his decoration, Munski watched as his buddies packed and readied for combat. They headed down the now familiar road to the Kahului docks and the ships that would take them to another invasion. This time, Frank Munski would not go with them. He was assigned to the battalion’s rear echelon as senior corpsman; he and another veteran, PhM2c William G. Edwards, would run the dispensary and sickbay while the rest of the battalion fought on Iwo Jima. Only half of their buddies would return from Iwo alive and unwounded; the rest were forever changed by their experiences.
Doc Munski remained on duty with First Battalion through the summer of 1945. On 12 August, almost all of the battalion’s senior corpsmen were transferred en masse to Headquarters Fleet Marine Force, Pacific. It is likely that they were intended for furloughs back in the States, followed by a post at a training camp or specialist school. However, the end of the war quickly changed those plans, and most were quickly discharged. Munski was honorably separated from the Naval service on 17 October 1945, and headed home to Lewistown. He was reunited with his siblings – fortunately, every Munski boy lived to make it home.
After hanging up his uniform, Frank Munski never practiced medicine again. He found a job with Lewistown Brick and Tile for a few years, working with his older brothers Leslie and William; later in life, he was employed by the Fergus County Creamery, the Lewistown Eagle’s bowling alley, and the Snow White Cafe. Although most of his siblings married and raised families, Frank himself remained a bachelor.
In 1972, Frank declared himself retired; in 1984, he moved to Whitefish, Montana, to live near his brother Walter.
He died of kidney failure on 8 August 1989, at the age of 82. After a brief memorial service at Sunset Memorial Gardens, his ashes were scattered in an unknown location.
Munski's winter service uniform was rescued from a thift store and restored by collector Robin Bassett.
Many thanks to Robin for preserving this unique piece of history.
(1) Bert Lindler, “Stan Munski: gem of a most brazen, old cowboy,” The Great Falls Tribune (Great Falls, MT) 22 October 1978, 13.
(2) While battalion muster rolls and other primary sources rarely indicate which corpsmen served with which platoons, a 1944 commendation names Munski as the heavy mortar corpsman and noted his assignment with them dated back to 1943.
(3) “Awards and Commendations,” Hospital Corps Quarterly Vol. 19, No. 8 (August 1946), 33.
(4) John C. Pope, Angel On My Shoulder. Pope said that the wounded Marine on Saipan was PFC Harold Bowman of C/1/24, however Bowman was wounded in action on 3 August 1944 during the battle for Tinian. Bowman would return to action only to be shot again on Iwo Jima – that time in the left chest. Since Munski did not fight on Iwo Jima, it is not clear if Pope has confused the identities of one or more of the men in this story. (It should also be noted that Pope believed Munski was killed in action on Iwo.)
(5) Direct quote from August 1946 Hospital Corps Quarterly. The figure of “at least 57 lives” appears in “Mate Francis Munski, Member Of Family Which Sent Six Brothers To War, Decorated With Legion Of Merit,” The Independent Record (Helena, MT), 14 January 1945.
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My name is Linda Munski Miner and Frank was my uncle. Can you tell me who compiled this information? It is fascinating and amazing to read. The information appears to be correct except for a mistake in the newspaper article from the Lewistown paper when Frank received the Legion of Merit award. The youngest son, my father, George, joined the Army, not the Navy.