Wounded once. Then twice. Then three times. He kept crawling toward the fallen.
One bazooka. Sixteen enemy positions. An entire defensive sector shattered by one Marine.
Two wounded Marines lay exposed. A bunker poured fire. He stood up so they could live.
A faulty grenade. Seconds to decide. He chose his men over himself.
In an unarmed light aircraft over the jungles near Dalat, he saw the ambush forming below. Instead of turning away, he dove into it.
A mortar round tore through the aircraft in the night sky over Long Binh. Inside the shattered cargo bay, a live flare burned.
Pinned down by enemy machineguns in the jungles of Luzon, his platoon could not move. He rose and attacked alone.
