PFC Burnell McDowell

UNITED STATES MARINE CORPS
B. JULY23, 1924 D. JUL 21, 1944 KILLED IN ACTION
WORLD WAR II

“Burnell was an ordinary child. Born to hard working people doing the best they could. Not educated. Not high rank. But his life was just as important as those that were.” Truer words were never spoken.

Claude and Pauline McDowell worked in a cotton mill in Villa Rica till the depression shut it down. Then they moved on to sharecropping on a farm near Molena. Born to the McDowells were three girls and four boys but one of the boys died in his sleep at age five months.

Betty Post, one of those girls, now 84 and living in Barnesville, remembers those days well. Burnell was her senior by six years.

During the time the family lived near Molena the children went to Molena Elementary School, two rooms that housed six grades. They lived in one of the tenant houses on a big farm. The family went to church “sometimes but we weren’t regulars”.

From making lard to chopping cotton, she says there was always work to be done on the farm. Each child had his or her own chores and was expected to pitch in to help each other too. Money was scarce but being farmers there was always food to eat.

The children’s favorite time each year was the first really cold day when everyone on the farm pitched in for hog killing. “All the people busy working. The noise. Cutting up the meat. I just remember it was the most exciting day. That night we ate good I can tell YOU.”

Mrs. Post remembers she was always jealous of Burnell as a child. Riding on the wagon going to town Burnell got to ride up front next to their Daddy while she had to ride in the back. Her father would always point out interesting things along the way to Burnell but never to her. She didn’t like that.

Even as a child she knew Burnell was a good son. “On washing days water had to be fetched from the well that was way down by the road. First the water had to be pulled up out of the well then carried in a bucket way up to the house to put in a big tub. It meant many trips and it was hard work but Burnell always did it without being asked. He would stick with it as long as Momma needed water. She really appreciated that. Burnell really loved our Mother.”

In 1941 the family moved to North 2nd Street near Cabin Creek in Spalding County and everybody went to work at Spalding Hosiery Mill. Mother, Daddy, all the children that were old enough, husbands and wives of those that were married – everybody. That included Burnell. “I don’t remember how old he was when he dropped out of school, but in those days age didn’t matter much. If the family needed money you went to work regardless if it meant staying out of school to harvest crops or working at the mill.”

Burnell was not a big young man, maybe six feet or so, but he was solid. “You had to have muscles if you grew up on a farm.”

Before too long Burnell met and married Annie Laura Bickley. They had a baby but the child died. The family thought Laura was “wonderful” and kept in touch with her for years after Burnell died.

When the war came Burnell went to town to join up. His choice was the Coast Guard but they didn’t need men so he joined the Marines. When he told his father what he had done his daddy hollered: “Oh no! They’re the worst one!.” Meaning the most dangerous branch to be in. The family wasn’t happy but it was too late then.

When he was sent overseas Burnell was good about writing home regularly to his wife and mother.

As a machine gunner Burnell was sent to the South Pacific Theater of operations and participated in several successful landing on small islands there. But Guam was different, it was a much bigger landing and a much bigger battle.

He got ashore safely enough but during the fighting, as he lay prone operating his machine gun a Japanese sniper shot Burnell in the neck killing him instantly.

The news arrived in a telegram delivered to North 2nd Street. Mother McDowell was on the front porch with young Betty. It took only seconds for them to read the message. Mrs. McDowell started screaming so loud the alarmed farm hands ran in from the fields. She could not be consoled.

Private First Class Burnell McDowell was nineteen years old, two days away from his twentieth birthday.

Mrs. Post is right, his “life was just as important” as anyone who ever died in the service of this country.