Donnie Dunagan dies From child star to decorated Marine

In a 2001 interview with the Carlsbad Current-Argus, Dunagan revealed that both his parents were killed in an air raid. He was just seven years old.

“The war took their young lives, and I was put in the care of my wonderful Irish Grandfather ’Tom-Tom’ Johnson and spent some youthful years in Ireland and England,” Dunagan said.

His grandfather was a former bare-knuckle boxer who had fought for prize money. Dunagan remembered him as a man of strong principles, describing the standards, codes of conduct and character he passed on as things that some people “today could use.”

But tragedy struck once again when his grandfather died while Dunagan was just 10. With no one certain what to do with the young boy, who had once been a child film star, he was eventually sent back to the United States in 1945.

He was placed in an orphanage in San Antonio, Texas, before later moving to Los Angeles. He boxed, played football in high school and learned to support himself.

In 1952, at just 18 years old, Dunagan joined the United States Marine Corps.

What followed was a military career spanning a quarter of a century. Dunagan served three tours in Vietnam and eventually rose to the rank of major. He also became a counterintelligence officer and a Force Recon commander.

His service came at a considerable personal cost. He was awarded three Purple Hearts, as well as a Bronze Star and several other military decorations.

And throughout all those years, there was one extraordinary secret he kept from the people around him.

He never told his fellow Marines that he had once been the voice of Bambi.

Looking back, he admitted that it was something he regretted.

“One of the biggest regrets of my life is that I didn’t have the courage to tell my close personal friends in the Marine Corps that I had been a part of the wonderful work of Mr. Disney,” he said.

He explained that he had never wanted to draw attention to himself or appear boastful.

He also feared that the revelation might earn him a nickname he would rather avoid: “Major Bambi.”

After retiring from the Marines in 1977, Dunagan embarked on a career in the business world, working for financial companies in New York, Los Angeles and San Antonio. He also served as CEO of Pace Corp. in Los Angeles and later returned to work in U.S. intelligence operations.

For years, his childhood connection to Disney remained largely unknown outside a relatively small circle.

Eventually, Disney learned that the little boy who had voiced Bambi was still alive. Dunagan was invited to take part in a DVD release of the film, and a new chapter began.

He became a familiar presence at conventions, festivals and Disney events, sharing memories of the production and meeting the generations of fans who had grown up with his voice.

For many, meeting him must have felt like coming face to face with a small piece of their childhood.

Dunagan understood just how special that connection was. He once reflected on the unique affection people had for the character and the responsibility that came with being part of something so beloved.

“I could be working in the White House and children could care less,” he said. “But let someone say, ‘That dude over there was the face or voice of Bambi,’ and I am an immediate adopted grandfather to them. That is just an unmatchable joy and a real responsibility.”

It is a touching reflection from a man who had experienced two very different worlds: the magic of Hollywood and the demands of military service.

Dunagan married his wife, Dana, in September 1992, and the couple settled in San Angelo, Texas, where they remained together until his death.

The former child star, who gave his voice to young Bambi in Disney’s beloved 1942 animated classic, leaves behind a life story that was extraordinary in every sense.

He leaves behind a legacy that stretches far beyond a single film. To millions, he will always be the little voice that made Bambi feel real. But his life was also defined by service, sacrifice, tragedy and a remarkable sense of humility.

Rest in peace, Donnie.