Under the cliffs of Iwo Jima, the assault faltered beneath a storm of fire. He stepped forward into it—and carried the line with him.
In the dense woods outside Hue, a hidden trap clicked into motion. He heard it—and moved toward it instead of away.
Across a river under rockets and machinegun fire, he went first. Wounded again and again, he refused to stop.
Seventy-five yards of open ground. Machineguns, rifles, and 47mm fire sweeping the ridge—and he went first.
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.
