State vet helps WW2 hero get Medal of Honor
Conner had several decorations; Chilton wanted to see one more
GENOA CITY - It all started because Richard Chilton wanted to know more about his beloved uncle.
Chilton was 11 years old when his uncle Gordon Roberts was killed in the fierce fighting during the invasion of Anzio, Italy, in 1944. Three decades ago, he began reaching out to Anzio veterans in the 3rd Army Infantry Division, seeking someone who knew Roberts.
There were a lot of dead ends but eventually Chilton found Garlin Conner, who responded to his query with words that sent Chilton’s heart racing.
“I probably went through 200 people who didn’t know him. But when I called Garlin he said, ‘I knew your uncle. I was with him when he died at Anzio,’ “Chilton said.
Chilton looked up Conner’s biography and was shocked to see he was one of the most decorated GIs who fought in World War II — one Bronze Star, three Purple Hearts, four Silver Stars and the Distinguished Service Cross, the nation’s secondhighest medal of valor. It seemed to Chilton that the only thing missing was a Medal of Honor.
So Chilton began a campaign to upgrade Conner’s Distinguished Service Cross to the Medal of Honor. It took more than two decades and repeated attempts after the military denied petitions for a variety of reasons. Earlier this year, the White House notified Conner’s widow in Kentucky that the Medal of Honor would be awarded to him.
A date has not been set for the Medal of Honor ceremony. Chilton plans to attend.
“Somebody said, ‘Why would you want to do so much for a guy you hardly knew?’ But I felt like I knew Garlin,” Chilton said in an interview in his basement office filled with binders of research and records he compiled on Conner.
“Garlin always took the point (on missions.) He never should have made it through the war,”
considering the danger he was in, said Chilton, 85.
Conner, who was given a battlefield promotion from technical sergeant to 2nd lieutenant, was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross for his heroism in January 1945 in France. On that day, Conner volunteered to run 400 yards directly toward German troops while unspooling telephone wire and then stayed in a shallow ditch in near zero temperatures for three hours to call in artillery and mortar fire at the advancing enemy of 600 soldiers and half a dozen German tanks, according to the citation.
When the last German assault swept forward, Conner ordered his artillery to concentrate on his position even though it could have meant his death. American shells exploded within 5 yards of his position and eventually the attack was repulsed.
Chilton thought that instead of the Distinguished Service Cross, Conner should have received the Medal of Honor. Chilton thinks the general who awarded him the Distinguished Service Cross wanted to give Conner something he could wear home, instead of waiting for the lengthy paperwork for Medals of Honor.
Chilton traveled to Kentucky a few years before Conner died, but by then Conner was ill with kidney failure and couldn’t speak. When Chilton started talking about his uncle, he noticed Conner began to cry uncontrollably.
Though Chilton started the Medal of Honor campaign, others including Conner’s family helped push the effort forward throughout the years.
Several years ago, Chilton sought the help of retired Lt. Col. Bill Schafer, a fellow member of the Great Lakes Chapter of the Special Forces Association. Chilton fought in the Korean War and later served in the 82nd Airborne and Green Berets.
“Richard Chilton is not a guy that quits . ... this would never have gotten done without him,” said Schafer, of Darien.
When Schafer saw online in March that Conner, who died in 1998 at the age of 79, would finally get a Medal of Honor, he called Chilton with the good news.
“It was quite an odyssey for Rich Chilton, he’s an incredible guy,” said Schafer.
Had it not been for Chilton’s desire to learn more about his uncle, the Medal of Honor might never have happened for Conner.
Chilton’s mother Lydia was the oldest of four and was devastated when her brother, Gordon, died in Anzio. Another brother, Elmer, was part of the DDay invasion on Utah Beach, fought in the Battle of the Bulge and became an alcoholic when he returned home, which Chilton’s mother believes may have been from survivor’s guilt.
Chilton remembered his Uncle Gordon as a sweet man whose faith was paramount in his life. He has the small Bible his uncle carried into battle and carefully read the notations, trying to learn more.
“I wanted to know if he could ever kill somebody. I found one of the pages of Scripture and I could see from what he underlined, it told me exactly what he was thinking.”
Roberts grew up in Chicago, started working at Sinclair Oil Co. in 1938 and joined the Army in March 1943. While serving in K Company, 7th Regiment, 3rd Division, he was part of the amphibious invasion at Anzio. Nine days later, Roberts was killed. He was 25.
“For some reason, I was drawn toward him. That’s what probably drew Garlin (Conner) to my uncle. Because he was steadfast and true,” said Chilton.