At around 9 am French time on November 1st, 1918, a German infantryman pressed the trigger on his MG-08 Maxim machine gun and let fly a hail of 8 m/m bullets. Moments earlier the Germans either let loose a deadly poisoned gas attack or Dorr's unit believed they were about to. In any event, Pvt. D.H. Weigle of the 4th Brigade, 2nd Marine Division rose up just slightly in an attempt to fit his gas mask over his face. One of those 8 m/m bullets was bearing down upon him.
Dorr had been born September 2, 1896, the ninth of twelve children of Charles and Mary Weigle. Their home was near the village of Elizabeth, West Virginia. In 1970 he showed my wife (his daughter Susan) and I the family home, the church and school built by his carpenter father and the cemetery where his parents were interred. His formal education ended after the eighth grade and he went to work mainly in farming jobs. When the U.S. entered the "Great War" in April 1917 Dorr was employed by the Coraopolis, Pa. Police Dept. and was deferred from military conscription. But there was such an intense pressure on young men to not be "slackers" or "shirkers" that he followed his older brother and enlisted in the Marine Corps. Paris Island had just been opened and Dorr remembered being one of those assigned to pave the new streets there with crushed oyster shells.
He demonstrated a high level of marksmanship with the 03 Springfield rifle and was told that his scores on the rifle range would mean that he could remain there and be a rifle instructor. But he so hated the heat and the sand fleas that he deliberately pulled one or two shots out of the bulls eye on qualification day so that he would not be assigned to stay there. He later considered that one of the biggest mistakes of his life because it would nearly cost him his life. He recalled that upon arriving in France it was march, march, march just about everywhere he went. He received his food in the chow line one day and sat down on a pile of brush to eat. Noticing that no one else was sitting near him he looked down into the brush and beheld the remains of a dead German.
On the fateful morning of November 1st Dorr, as a member of Co. E, 5th Marine Regiment, 4th Brigade was in that part of the Argonne Offensive intended to drive the Germans from the town of Landreville. The machine gun burst of fire that was to hit him must have been fired in an upward trajectory to rain down on the Marines. The bullet that struck him entered at a downward trajectory and lodged near a pelvic bone. The surgeons, fearful that he might be paralyzed, left the bullet where it was. But they did not tell him this fact. It would be nearly 20 years before he would learn that it was still in him. After the war he married the lovely, dark eyed Orpha Shankland of Wayne Co. Ohio. Soon after their marriage he turned down an offer from the Veterans Bureau to pay for four years of college if he would teach vocational agriculture. He had no desire to return to school. Another decision that he would someday regret. He opted instead to learn automobile mechanics and for six years worked at the Canton (Ohio) Motor Car Co. where he serviced the first Chrysler to come to Canton.
In the years following the birth of their first child, a son in 1921, Dorr and Orpha endured the anguish of three baby girls either being still born or dying soon after birth. In 1928 Dorr joined the Canton Police Department. In the early 1930's he used the veterans bonus to buy a 100 acre farm near Greenwich, Ohio. He and Orpha would rent out the farm for ten years before moving there. From 1936 until 1942 they welcomed into their lives two sons and a daughter, Susan. In 1943 Dorr took early retirement from the police department and the family moved from Canton to the farm they already owned. Dorr now realized his life long dream of operating his own farm. At that time the oldest son, now 22, was serving his country in World War II.
The most critical moment of Dorr's life, since nearly being killed in 1918, was to happen at the very middle of the 20th century. Dorr was a man of honesty and integrity but he could exhibit a terrible temper and cursed as a second language. His two youngest sons often fought so angrily their mother feared they would not live to adulthood. A friend invited the two Weigle brothers to church and they soon committed their lives to Christ as Savior and Lord. Their lives changed radically. Early one Sunday morning Dorr said to Orpha, "Get ready. We are going to church. I want to see what happened to those two boys." She nearly fainted! In the weeks that followed Orpha recommitted her life to Christ and Dorr, the proud, ramrod straight Marine, became a committed follower of Jesus Christ at age 54. As a young boy I witnessed his baptism and subsequent struggle to overcome the lifelong habit of cursing. One of his sons and his daughter would spend much of their lives in Christian School and Christian camp ministries. His daughter is still very involved in ministry to all age groups at her church.
Dorr was always an avid hunter and an excellent marksman. It was my joy as his only son-in-law to supply him with several accurate rifles. From age 76 onward he was legendary among local farmers for the number of groundhogs he took out of their fields. He hunted until well into his 90's and kept me busy loading ammunition for him. Eventually, the years took their toll. At age ninety he had to have a pace maker. I conducted Dorr's funeral service in April 1996. He was just five months short of his 100th birthday. The honor guard at the cemetery were young enough to be his grandchildren or great grandchildren. Orpha had preceded him in death by nine years. The 8 m/m German machine gun bullet was still in him!
