Alone, unarmed, carrying only a satchel charge, he crawled into a minefield under fire. By the time he was finished, six enemy strongpoints were gone.
Ordered to jump to safety, he refused. His pilot was still alive—and he would not leave him behind.
Alone in the sky, outnumbered nine to one, he turned toward the enemy instead of away. Between the bombers and his carrier, he chose to stand.
Mortally wounded at the start of the bomb run, he refused to fall away. With one arm shattered and life slipping fast, he crawled back to his sight.
Ordered to abandon a doomed aircraft, he refused. His pilot was still alive—and he would not leave him behind.
Four Marines in a ravine. Two grenades at their feet. He chose both.
In the darkness of a Pacific island night, a single grenade fell into a foxhole. He did not hesitate.
