The Stone Wall: The Legend of Francis Sherman Curry

Chapter 1: Before the Dawn

December 21st, 1944. Malmedy, Belgium. The sky was gunmetal gray, the air brittle with cold, and the ground littered with the scars of war. Private Francis Sherman Curry crouched behind a stone wall, his breath fogging in the frigid morning. He was nineteen, orphaned at twelve, and had seen ninety days of combat. Now, he was all that stood between three SS Panzer tanks and the last bridge holding back the German offensive.

He gripped his Browning automatic rifle, knuckles white, eyes scanning the horizon. Three tanks, forty German infantry, and one bazooka with four rockets. Twenty minutes, maybe less, before the defensive sector collapsed. The fate of 11,000 American soldiers rested on a single stone bridge—and on Curry.

Three kilometers away, the Waffen SS had just massacred 81 American prisoners. Surrender was no longer an option. The Germans were coming, and they had no idea what awaited them.

Chapter 2: The Orphan

Francis Curry was born in Hurleyville, New York, in 1925. By twelve, he had lost both parents to the relentless grip of the Great Depression. The children’s home in Locksheldrake gave him shelter, but little comfort. He learned to rely on himself, to observe, to adapt, and to expect nothing from anyone. These were the survival skills that would one day save his life—and the lives of countless others.

At seventeen, Curry enlisted in the Army. Not for glory, not for adventure, but simply to escape a world that had given him nothing. By September 1944, he was shipped to Europe as a replacement in Company K, Third Battalion, 120th Infantry Regiment, 30th Infantry Division. The 30th had fought through Normandy and earned a reputation as one of the hardest-fighting divisions in the theater. Francis Curry was just another replacement—quiet, unassuming, and untested.

But the veterans noticed something. Curry was calm under fire. He watched, learned, and never panicked. He was not tall or imposing. He was not an officer. He was just a farm kid with a knack for survival.

Chapter 3: The Battle of the Bulge

December 1944 was supposed to be the beginning of the end. Allied forces had liberated France and were preparing to cross into Germany. Soldiers talked about being home for Christmas. But Hitler had other plans. Operation Wacht am Rhein—his last gamble. Over 200,000 German troops backed by 1,000 tanks crashed into American lines in the Ardennes Forest.

The Battle of the Bulge became the largest and bloodiest battle fought by American forces in World War II. Over 19,000 Americans would die. At the spearhead was the 1st SS Panzer Division, battle-hardened troops with a reputation for brutality earned on the Russian front. On December 17th, near Baugnez, Belgium, the division’s cruelty came into full view. The Malmedy massacre—84 Americans executed after surrendering.

News of the massacre spread like wildfire. Surrender was no longer an option. You fought or you died.

Chapter 4: The Bridge

By December 20th, Malmedy had become a critical defensive point. The 30th Infantry Division was tasked with holding the stone bridge on the outskirts. Built in 1863, it was wide enough for one vehicle. If the Germans took it, 11,000 American soldiers would be cut off. The entire Ardennes defensive sector would collapse within 48 hours.

Company K had taken 92% casualties in 72 hours. Out of 147 men, only 13 were still combat effective. Curry was posted near the bridge when the shelling intensified. Through the smoke, movement—one German tank, then another, then a third.

Captain Evan gave the order: fall back, regroup, let the Germans take the bridge. Curry asked what would happen to those 11,000 soldiers. Evan answered: “Encircled, cut off, killed or captured within two days.” Surrender was not an option. The army manual said one soldier with a bazooka could not stop three tanks. It would be suicide to stay.

Curry looked at the tanks, the infantry, the bridge. He said he would rather face a court-martial than let 11,000 soldiers die because he followed orders that did not make sense. Evan stared at him—this 19-year-old orphan was about to disobey a direct order in combat.

“If you stay, you’re on your own. No support, no backup,” Evan said.

“I’ve been on my own since I was twelve,” Curry replied. “This is nothing new.”

Chapter 5: Alone

Evan left, taking the rest of Company K with him. Francis Curry was alone.

But Curry saw the battlefield differently. The stone wall, forty meters to the left—a destroyed barn with a bazooka inside. Sixty meters behind—a wrecked halftrack with a .50 caliber machine gun. Eighty meters to the right—disabled German tanks and anti-tank grenades. Four positions, all within sprinting distance, each offering a different firing angle.

If he hit the first tank from the barn, then moved to the halftrack, then to the disabled tanks, the Germans would think they were facing multiple defenders, coordinated fire. They were not. It was just Curry.

In war, perception is reality. If he could make the Germans believe the bridge was heavily defended, they would hesitate. Hesitation was how you survived when outnumbered forty to one.

The Army manual said, “Stay in one position.” Curry was about to prove the manual was written by people who had never fought alone.

Chapter 6: The First Shot

Curry raised his Browning automatic rifle. The lead tank was 280 meters away. He fired. The German commander slumped backward. The tank’s machine gun opened up, bullets tearing into the stone wall. Curry dropped flat, counted seconds, waited for a pause, then sprinted toward the barn.

Machine gun fire erupted. German infantry started shooting. He reached the barn and crashed through the doorway. Private First Class John Swanson was inside, clutching a bazooka with four rockets. Curry grabbed the bazooka, Swanson grabbed the rockets. They moved to the side door. Tanks were 240 meters away.

Curry loaded the bazooka, Swanson armed the fuse. Curry stepped out and aimed at the lead tank’s center mass. The bazooka kicked, the rocket streaked across the gap, impact—turret ring. Fire and smoke erupted. The tank rolled backward, crew bailed out. One down.

The second panzer’s main gun swung toward the barn. Curry told Swanson to stay, keep the Germans looking here. Then he ran toward the halftrack. German infantry saw him running across open ground and opened fire. He reached the halftrack and dove behind it as the German tank fired at the barn. The explosion tore through the barn wall where Curry had been ten seconds earlier.

But Curry wasn’t there.

Chapter 7: The Halftrack Gambit

From behind the battered halftrack, Curry scanned the battlefield. The .50 caliber machine gun sat idle, its bolt jammed. He cleared it, chambered a fresh round, and peered through the smoke at the advancing German infantry. They believed he was still in the barn. Curry opened fire, walking bursts across the formation. The thunder of the heavy gun scattered the Germans—some dropped, the rest retreated into cover.

Swanson, still in the barn, fired the bazooka. The second panzer shuddered as the rocket struck low, tearing off its left track. Another mobility kill. Two tanks disabled, and the Germans were shouting—bazooka from the barn, machine gun from the halftrack. Two different positions, multiple defenders. The illusion was working.

Curry moved fast, never staying in one place long enough to be tracked. He sprinted toward the disabled German tanks on the right, zigzagging through the chaos. He reached the wreckage, found M9 anti-tank grenades with shaped-charge warheads, and grabbed four.

Chapter 8: The Third Panzer

The third tank advanced cautiously, its crew already shaken. Curry waited, letting it come closer. At seventy meters, he stood up. German infantry spotted him and opened fire. Curry threw the first grenade at the infantry; it exploded, scattering the squad and making it seem like a third American position had opened up.

The tank commander swung the machine gun toward Curry. He threw his second grenade at the tank—it exploded next to the right track. The panzer ground to a halt, its track torn apart. Three tanks, three hits. The German advance faltered, radio traffic crackled as they reported heavy resistance, multiple anti-tank positions, and a coordinated defense.

They had no idea it was one orphan with a bazooka and the willingness to run at tanks instead of away.

Chapter 9: The Illusion

German radio traffic from that day, later declassified, reported encountering at least a dozen American soldiers defending the Malmedy Bridge with coordinated anti-tank fire from multiple positions. The intelligence officer concluded that no single soldier could move that fast or coordinate that many attacks. The report was wrong. It was one man—Francis Sherman Curry—who had learned, “When you are alone, make them think you are not.”

But Curry wasn’t finished.

Chapter 10: The Rescue

German artillery opened up, pounding the American positions. Company K was taking casualties. Curry saw five wounded American soldiers pinned down by machine gun fire, unable to move. The manuals said, “Do not do it. You cannot save five men under machine gun fire. You will die trying.”

But Curry remembered being twelve, alone, waiting for help that never came. He crawled toward the wounded men, 400 meters under a hail of bullets. He reached them. They couldn’t walk. He would have to drag them one at a time.

He grabbed the first man and started dragging him backward. Machine gun fire intensified, but Curry kept moving. He got him to safety and went back. Second man, third, fourth, fifth—each time braving the open ground, each time returning for another.

Five men who would have died. Five men who went home to their families.

Chapter 11: The Turning Point

The German assault sputtered, stalled, and retreated. The bridge remained in American hands. Francis Sherman Curry was still standing. The Germans never took that bridge.

Why did elite Waffen SS troops hesitate? Why did they pull back from a position they should have overrun? Because Francis Sherman Curry did not fight like one man. He created the illusion of a coordinated defense, switching positions, scavenging weapons, striking from multiple angles, making the enemy believe they were facing an organized ambush.

In war, perception is reality. The Germans could not predict where the next attack would come from. They could not figure out how many Americans they were facing. That uncertainty slowed their advance. In combat, hesitation is fatal.

Chapter 12: Fear and Respect

The Germans were not defeated by superior firepower. They were defeated by confusion, uncertainty, and the belief that they were outnumbered. That is psychological warfare—making the enemy defeat themselves through their own fear.

Curry’s refusal to retreat, his calm effectiveness, his ability to appear everywhere at once shattered the psychological advantage of the Waffen SS. He was not a berserker charging blindly. He was a hunter, methodically dismantling one of the deadliest fighting forces of the war.

Chapter 13: Aftermath

As the smoke cleared over Malmedy, the battered remnants of Company K regrouped. Survivors emerged from cover, stunned by what had just happened. The bridge, the lifeline for 11,000 American soldiers, still stood. The Germans had pulled back, leaving behind disabled tanks and scattered equipment.

Curry, exhausted and streaked with grime, helped the wounded to safety. Medics arrived, tending to the men he had rescued. Word spread quickly through the division—one quiet private had held off an armored assault and pulled five men from the jaws of death.

For the rest of the day, Curry moved among the survivors, checking positions, sharing ammunition, and offering quiet reassurance. He spoke little, but his actions inspired those around him. In a world where chaos ruled, Curry’s resolve became a beacon.

Chapter 14: Recognition

In the days that followed, commanders pieced together the events at the bridge. Witnesses recounted how Curry had moved from position to position, firing from different angles, creating confusion and panic among the enemy. Reports from German radio traffic confirmed their belief that an entire platoon had held the bridge.

Curry’s superiors recommended him for the Medal of Honor. His story reached Major General Leland Hobbes, who reviewed the battle in detail. General Dwight D. Eisenhower himself met with Curry, studying the engagement and recognizing the tactical brilliance of his actions.

In Eisenhower’s diary, he wrote:
“The battle at Malmedy demonstrates that tactical innovation under pressure is worth more than strict adherence to doctrine. Private Curry’s decision to defend the bridge likely saved thousands of lives and shortened the German offensive by weeks. His method of creating the illusion of multiple defenders should be studied at every army tactical school.”

On July 27th, 1945, Francis Sherman Curry was awarded the Medal of Honor. He also received the Silver Star, Bronze Star, three Purple Hearts, and Belgium’s Order of Leopold with Palm.

Chapter 15: Quiet Hero

Despite the honors, Curry never saw himself as a hero. After the war, he returned to civilian life with the same quiet determination he had shown on the battlefield. He married Helen Kelly in 1946, and together they built a life that lasted over sixty years.

Curry joined the Veterans Affairs Medical Center in Albany as a counselor, helping other veterans cope with the aftermath of war. He understood their nightmares, their guilt, the difficulty of explaining combat to those who had never experienced it. Later, he ran a landscaping business in upstate New York, then moved to Myrtle Beach, working in hotel convention planning.

He rarely spoke about Malmedy. For Curry, the war was never about glory—it was about doing what needed to be done to protect his fellow soldiers.

Chapter 16: Legacy

Military historians studied Curry’s tactics, analyzing how one soldier achieved what seemed impossible. His story became part of study programs at West Point, teaching future soldiers about adaptability and psychological dominance on the battlefield.

Curry became the first Medal of Honor recipient immortalized as a G.I. Joe action figure. Yet, to those who knew him, he remained humble, insisting he was just doing his job.

On October 8th, 2019, Francis Sherman Curry passed away at age ninety-four. His legacy endures—not only in medals and history books, but in the quiet courage he showed when the world was at its darkest.

Chapter 17: The Lesson

The story of Francis Sherman Curry is not just about heroism in battle. It is about the power of perception, the importance of resolve, and the impact one person can have when faced with impossible odds. Curry’s ability to adapt, to think beyond the manual, and to act with compassion saved lives and changed the course of history.

His story reminds us that sometimes, the bravest thing a person can do is simply refuse to give up—even when the world tells them it’s hopeless.

Chapter 18: Echoes

Years passed, but the legend of Malmedy Bridge never faded. Veterans who had fought alongside Curry told the story to their children and grandchildren, passing down the tale of the orphan who had stood alone against impossible odds. At reunions and memorials, his name was spoken with quiet reverence—a symbol of courage, resourcefulness, and the power of one determined soul.

Curry himself remained humble. He never sought attention, never boasted about his medals. For him, the greatest reward was seeing the men he’d saved build lives of their own, knowing that his actions had given them a second chance.

Chapter 19: The Quiet Legacy

As the decades rolled on, Curry’s story became part of military history. His tactics were studied at West Point, his Medal of Honor displayed in museums, his likeness immortalized in action figures and documentaries. But those who met him found a gentle counselor, a family man, a friend who listened more than he spoke.

He continued to help veterans, guiding them through the silent battles that followed war—the memories, the guilt, the search for meaning. He understood the loneliness, the sense of being forgotten, and offered comfort without judgment.

Chapter 20: Reflection

On quiet evenings, Curry would sit with Helen, his wife of sixty years, and watch the sun set over Myrtle Beach. Sometimes he would talk about his childhood, the hardships of the Depression, the lessons learned in the orphanage. Rarely did he speak of the war. When asked, he would say simply, “I did what I had to do.”

His humility was his strength. He taught his children and grandchildren that heroism was not about medals or recognition, but about standing up when it mattered most, about helping others even when no one else would.

Epilogue: The Bridge Endures

Francis Sherman Curry passed away peacefully on October 8th, 2019, at age ninety-four. His legacy endures—not just in history books, but in the lives he touched, the soldiers he saved, and the lessons he left behind.

The stone bridge at Malmedy still stands, weathered by time but unbroken—a silent monument to the day one orphan changed the course of a battle, and proved that even in the darkest moments, hope can endure.

Curry’s story is a reminder:
When you are alone, make them think you are not. When you are afraid, act with courage. When the world tells you to retreat, stand your ground.

Because sometimes, the fate of thousands rests on the shoulders of one.