Asked how he’d rank his naval service within the overall context of his life, legendary movie star Douglas Fairbanks Jr. told the Naval Institute in 1993, “I’d put it very high up, very high up indeed.” With the outbreak of World War II, many matinee idols of Hollywood’s golden age answered the call, but Fairbanks was ahead of the curve in his eagerness to trade silver-screen heroics for real-life risk in the thick of the fray. In so doing, he was putting aside the glamorous lifestyle of a cinematic royal—his father had been the rope-swinging, sword-wielding king of the silent movie era, and Douglas Jr. had more than lived up to his famous name in such 1930s adventure classics as The Prisoner of Zenda and Gunga Din.
An early and ardent proponent of the United States getting into the war, he received his U.S. Naval Reserve commission in April 1941 and embarked on an eventful career in the European and Mediterranean theaters. Before the bombs fell on Pearl Harbor, he already was learning the ropes on convoy duty in the USS Ludlow (DD-438). He served in pretty much every type of warship save a submarine, worked with the British Combined Operations Command (headed by his old chum Admiral Louis Mountbatten), took part in amphibious operations in the invasions of Sicily, Italy, and southern France, and generally kept busy throughout too many exploits to mention here. (Stay tuned to Naval History later this year for an account of Fairbanks’ role in the 1943 Salerno invasion.)
Such a varied résumé ended up yielding a remarkable assemblage of medals (25) from a host of Allied nations (ten, including the United States). From the Silver Star and the Legion of Merit to the Knight Commander of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire, from France’s Croix de Guerre to Italy’s War Cross for Military Valor, it’s an impressive international array. And what better way to house it than a custom-made oak wood case with a hinged top, drop front, and 11 drawers? The case and its contents, now in the collection of the Naval Institute, leave the observer to ponder, “Therein hangs a tale,” with the opening of each new drawer and the gleam of each revealed treasure. They tell the wartime story of a celebrity who left it all behind and who took this business seriously, fighting to downplay his fame and just be one of the boys. It was tough from the get-go, yet he ultimately earned his shipmates’ respect.
But not without a lot of hazing and taunting beforehand: Before signing up he had just finished filming The Corsican Brothers, in which he played both titular separated-at-birth twins (like The Parent Trap, but with swashbuckling). So when he’s stationed on board the USS Mississippi (BB-41) in late 1941, what movie do they end up screening on deck? The Corsican Brothers. He had a hell of a time living that one down.
—Eric Mills