“School can wait. My country needs me.”
Don Adams was 18 years old when he said that to his parents in December 1941, just days after the attack on Pearl Harbor.
He dropped out of high school, walked into a Marine Corps recruiting office, and enlisted.
Within months, he was on a ship heading to the South Pacific. Within a year, he was fighting in one of the bloodiest battles of World War II.
And within two years, he was lying in a hospital bed in New Zealand, fighting a disease that killed nine out of ten people who caught it.
Somehow, he survived.
Decades later, the world would know him as Maxwell Smart, the bumbling secret agent from Get Smart—one of the most beloved comedians of the 1960s and 70s.
But before the laughs, before the Emmy Awards, before the fame—Don Adams was a Marine. And he nearly didn’t make it home.
Don Adams was born Donald James Yarmy on April 13, 1923, in New York City. His parents were Hungarian Jewish immigrants. His father worked odd jobs. His mother raised Don and his siblings in a small apartment in Manhattan.
Don grew up tough, street-smart, and funny. He learned early that humor could defuse tension, deflect bullies, and make people like you.
But in December 1941, humor didn’t matter. The country was at war.
On December 7, 1941, Japan attacked Pearl Harbor. The next day, President Franklin D. Roosevelt declared war.
Don Adams didn’t hesitate. He was 18 years old, still in high school, but he knew what he had to do.
He enlisted in the United States Marine Corps.
After basic training, Don was assigned to the 3rd Battalion, 8th Marine Regiment—one of the most storied units in the Marine Corps.
In August 1942, the 3rd Battalion landed on Guadalcanal, a small island in the Solomon Islands that would become the site of one of the most brutal campaigns in the Pacific Theater.
The Battle of Guadalcanal lasted six months. Marines fought in dense jungle, under constant threat from Japanese snipers, artillery, and disease.
Don Adams was a rifleman. He fought in the sweltering heat, slept in muddy foxholes, and watched friends die around him.
But the enemy wasn’t just the Japanese. It was the jungle itself.
Malaria was rampant. Dysentery. Dengue fever. Men dropped from disease as often as from bullets.
Don contracted blackwater fever—a rare, deadly complication of malaria that causes the destruction of red blood cells, leading to organ failure. It turns urine dark red or black—hence the name.
Nine out of ten people who caught blackwater fever died.
Don was evacuated from Guadalcanal and spent over a year in a military hospital in New Zealand, fighting for his life.
He lost 60 pounds. His organs nearly shut down. Doctors didn’t think he’d make it.
But Don Adams was stubborn. He survived.
When he was finally well enough to leave the hospital, the war was winding down. Don was honorably discharged in 1945 with a Purple Heart and a medical discharge due to his illness.
He came home to New York—skinny, scarred, and 22 years old, with no high school diploma and no clear future.
So he did what a lot of veterans did: he tried to find work. He worked as a theater usher. He tried stand-up comedy at small clubs. He wasn’t great at first, but he kept at it.
Don developed a unique comedic style—deadpan, self-deprecating, with impeccable timing. He learned to play the fool, the underdog, the guy who never quite got it right but somehow won in the end.
In the 1950s, Don got small roles on TV shows. He worked as a voice actor. He did impressions. He slowly built a career.
Then, in 1965, everything changed.
Mel Brooks and Buck Henry created a spy comedy series called Get Smart, a parody of James Bond and Cold War espionage.
They needed an actor who could play the lead—Maxwell Smart, Agent 86—a bumbling but lovable secret agent who somehow always saved the day.
