An ambushed convoy. A gun truck under fire. When the grenade landed, he did not hesitate.
In the darkness west of Da Nang, grenades and rifle fire tore into the perimeter. He ran toward the wounded—and shielded them with his life.
A commander lay wounded in the street under pointblank fire. He ran toward him—and never left his side.
Outnumbered. Low on ammunition. Gas burning in the air. When the grenade landed, he chose his men.
Three bunkers. A canal under fire. A squad pinned down. He attacked them all.
In the jungles of the A Shau Valley, his command group lay wounded around him. He rose, took control, and led the assault himself.
Before dawn near Padiglione, three enemy strongpoints stood between his platoon and disaster. He went forward alone.
