Across four hundred yards of open ground swept by machine guns, mortars, and artillery, he went back again and again. When others could not reach the wounded, he did.
Across open ground swept by machine-gun fire and mortar bursts, one man deliberately drew the enemy’s guns onto himself. He went forward alone so his patrol could live.
Surrounded deep in enemy territory, he refused to yield ground or abandon his men. When the line began to break, he charged alone into the assault.
Across an open rice paddy swept by machine-gun fire, he attacked alone. Bunker by bunker, he broke the enemy line.
With bayonet fixed and bullets tearing the hillside around him, he chose momentum over cover. The charge followed him.
Under the fire of tanks and machine guns, wounded and bleeding, he refused to leave his men. Instead, he placed himself between them and death.
On a dark Pacific night, mortally wounded and bleeding on the bridge of his submarine, he chose the lives of his crew over his own. His final order sent them to safety.
