Medal of Honor Recipients

[That Guy]

Since the other thread apparently jumped the tracks right off the bat, I wanted to start something here. Feel free to post about whichever MoH winner you want - they are all truly amazing stories. My favorite:

BENAVIDEZ, ROY P.
Rank and organization: Master Sergeant. Organization: Detachment B-56, 5th Special Forces Group, Republic of Vietnam
Place and date: West of Loc Ninh on May 2, 1968
Entered service at: Houston, Texas June 1955
Born: August 5, 1935, DeWitt County, Cuero, Texas.
Citation:
Master Sergeant (then Staff Sergeant) Roy P. Benavidez United States Army, who distinguished himself by a series of daring and extremely valorous actions on 2 May 1968 while assigned to Detachment B56, 5th Special Forces Group (Airborne), 1st Special Forces, Republic of Vietnam. On the morning of 2 May 1968, a 12-man Special Forces Reconnaissance Team was inserted by helicopters in a dense jungle area west of Loc Ninh, Vietnam to gather intelligence information about confirmed large-scale enemy activity. This area was controlled and routinely patrolled by the North Vietnamese Army. After a short period of time on the ground, the team met heavy enemy resistance, and requested emergency extraction. Three helicopters attempted extraction, but were unable to land due to intense enemy small arms and anti-aircraft fire. Sergeant Benavidez was at the Forward Operating Base in Loc Ninh monitoring the operation by radio when these helicopters returned to off-load wounded crewmembers and to assess aircraft damage. Sergeant Benavidez voluntarily boarded a returning aircraft to assist in another extraction attempt. Realizing that all the team members were either dead or wounded and unable to move to the pickup zone, he directed the aircraft to a nearby clearing where he jumped from the hovering helicopter, and ran approximately 75 meters under withering small arms fire to the crippled team. Prior to reaching the team's position he was wounded in his right leg, face, and head. Despite these painful injuries, he took charge, repositioning the team members and directing their fire to facilitate the landing of an extraction aircraft, and the loading of wounded and dead team members. He then threw smoke canisters to direct the aircraft to the team's position. Despite his severe wounds and under intense enemy fire, he carried and dragged half of the wounded team members to the awaiting aircraft. He then provided protective fire by running alongside the aircraft as it moved to pick up the remaining team members. As the enemy's fire intensified, he hurried to recover the body and classified documents on the dead team leader. When he reached the leader's body, Sergeant Benavidez was severely wounded by small arms fire in the abdomen and grenade fragments in his back. At nearly the same moment, the aircraft pilot was mortally wounded, and his helicopter crashed. Although in extremely critical condition due to his multiple wounds, Sergeant Benavidez secured the classified documents and made his way back to the wreckage, where he aided the wounded out of the overturned aircraft, and gathered the stunned survivors into a defensive perimeter. Under increasing enemy automatic weapons and grenade fire, he moved around the perimeter distributing water and ammunition to his weary men, reinstilling in them a will to live and fight. Facing a buildup of enemy opposition with a beleaguered team, Sergeant Benavidez mustered his strength, began calling in tactical air strikes and directed the fire from supporting gunships to suppress the enemy's fire and so permit another extraction attempt. He was wounded again in his thigh by small arms fire while administering first aid to a wounded team member just before another extraction helicopter was able to land. His indomitable spirit kept him going as he began to ferry his comrades to the craft. On his second trip with the wounded, he was clubbed from behind by an enemy soldier. In the ensuing hand-to-hand combat, he sustained additional wounds to his head and arms before killing his adversary. He then continued under devastating fire to carry the wounded to the helicopter. Upon reaching the aircraft, he spotted and killed two enemy soldiers who were rushing the craft from an angle that prevented the aircraft door gunner from firing upon them. With little strength remaining, he made one last trip to the perimeter to ensure that all classified material had been collected or destroyed, and to bring in the remaining wounded. Only then, in extremely serious condition from numerous wounds and loss of blood, did he allow himself to be pulled into the extraction aircraft. Sergeant Benavidez' gallant choice to join voluntarily his comrades who were in critical straits, to expose himself constantly to withering enemy fire, and his refusal to be stopped despite numerous severe wounds, saved the lives of at least eight men. His fearless personal leadership, tenacious devotion to duty, and extremely valorous actions in the face of overwhelming odds were in keeping with the highest traditions of the military service, and reflect the utmost credit on him and the United States Army.
[SUP]



Although it isn't listed in the citation, Benavidez was placed in a body bag and left for dead until he spit in the face of a doctor who came over to declare him dead. Fractured skull, bayonet wounds through both arms, multiple gunshot wounds and more shrapnel than I could probably carry in two hands. Unbelieveable what the human body can do in times of great need.

[/SUP]​

 

[Boris]

^^^ this is extreme badass, not only in dedication and will power to keep going, but also in exceptional skills to stay alive long enough to accomplish all that. wow.

 

[4xharley]

That story is awesome! There are not many men off that caliber left in this world.

Sent from my DROID RAZR using Tapatalk 2

 

[FPrice]

Capt. Lance P. Sijan

On Nov 9, 1967, Capt. Lance P. Sijan ejects from his F-4C Phantom over North Vietnam and successfully evades capture for more than six weeks. The enemy eventually captures him, but he manages to escape. Captain Sijan receives the Medal of Honor posthumously. His spirit and determination inspired a fellow prisoner of war to nominate him.

After graduation in 1965 from the U.S. Air Force Academy, he attended pilot training. Then he was assigned to the 366th Wing, at Da Nang Air Base, Vietnam.

On his 52nd mission, 25-year-old Sijan ejected from his F-4C Phantom after it was hit Nov. 9, 1967, over North Vietnam. A search-and-rescue crew, Jolly Green 15, radioed to Sijan that they were sending down someone to assist him, but Sijan refused to put another person in danger. He asked that a penetrator be lowered instead. However, he couldn't grab the dropped steel cable, and after 33 minutes the rescue team faced enemy fire and had to leave.

Even with no food and very little water he managed to avoid capture for 45 days. Because of a serious compound fracture of the left leg, he was unable to walk but did manage to pull himself backward through the jungle. Even with a broken leg, a skull fracture and a mangled right hand he was able to escape shortly after his initial capture. Upon recapture he was taken to Vinh and thrown into a bamboo cell. He was 'interrogated' repeatedly, and in spite of his captors technique of twisting his damaged right hand he refused to disclose any information but his name.

Sijan was soon moved to a POW camp at Hanoi. Even in his emaciated condition, he attempted more escapes all meeting with failure. His physical condition continued to weaken without proper food or medical attention . He developed additional respiratory problems including pneumonia in January 1968. After many months of ill treatment, his health broke. Sijan was removed from his cell during the night of Jan. 21, 1968 and died the following day at Hoa Lo according to his Vietnamese captors.

He was promoted posthumously to captain on June 13, 1968. On March 4, 1976 President Gerald Ford presented the Medal of Honor to his parents, Sylvester and Jane Sijan.

The U.S. Air Force Academy named Sijan Hall, a cadet dormitory, in honor of him on May 31, 1976. Additionally, the U.S. Air Force honors Air Force personnel who exhibit the highest example of professional and personal leadership standards with the Lance P. Sijan Award.

 

[vellnueve]

I'm writing this from memory, please excuse any minor mistakes or omissions or typos. I'm also in a hurry because its lunchtime.

In October of 1944, the US military was undergoing the liberation of the Phillipine Islands at Leyte Gulf. A massive US Navy fleet was committed to bombarding shore positions and escorting the precious troop transports and freighters. Among these groups was the most powerful fast carrier attack groups ever comprised, led by Admiral "Bull" Halsey and centered around multiple state of the art carriers and battleships and a heavy bombardment group led by Admiral Jesse Oldendorf, consisting of eight battleships (many of which were damaged or sunk at Pearl Harbor) and multiple escorts and PT boats. A third main component of the US naval forces were the escort carrier groups assigned to provide air cover to the landing forces. These groups, nicknamed "Taffy 1, Taffy 2, and Taffy 3," were each centered around approximately half a dozen "escort carriers" which essentially were unarmored, weakly protected merchant vessels converted into small carriers carrying approximately twenty aircraft and each was escort by 3-4 Fletcher-class destroyers and 3-4 destroyer escorts, which were essentially minature destroyers with fewer capabilities and armament. These lightly armored ships, armed primarily with 5-inch, 3-inch, and smaller antiaircraft guns, depth charges, and anti-ship torpedoes, were primarily tasked with protecting the slow, fragile, valuable escort carriers from submarine and air attacks, while the main fast carrier task forces were assigned to protect the entire landing effort from any attempt at intervention from the main Japanese surface fleets.

A full story of this battle can be found in most books on the Pacific War, and most recently and notably in Hornfischer's "The Last Stand of the Tin Can Sailors." To make things short and sweet, Admiral Halsey took his fast carrier attack forces and his modern fast battleship groups (centered around USS New Jersey) north in chase of a number of Japanese carriers. What he did not realize is that the Japanese carrier force was a decoy, armed with few aircraft and even fewer experienced pilots. The Japanese Navy's philosophy had always been to use carriers to draw the entire US fleet into a decisive surface battle - at Leyte Gulf, the Japanese committed most of their remaining carrier forces as sacrificial decoys. The ploy worked, and as Halsey chased the decoy force with the bulk of the Navy's fighting strength, the core of the Japanese Combined Fleet, Admiral Kurita's "Center Force", centered around the IJN Yamato, the most powerful surface warship ever built, and consisting of multiple battleships and elite heavy cruisers, was sailing through San Bernandino Strait, (bloodied by air attack and submarines but still extremely dangerous) heading straight for the exposed landing forces and the light armed escort carriers of the Taffy groups. A third group centered around the older Japanese battleships Yamashiro and Fuso was crushed under Oldendorf's guns, but neither his group nor Halsey were close enough to intervene as the heaviest guns in the world bore straight towards the unprotected ships of "Taffy 3" on 25 October.

CDR Ernest E. Evans, commanding officer of the Fletcher-class destroyer USS Johnston, was assigned to protect the escort carriers of Taffy 3. Along with two other destroyers (Hoel and Heerman) and three destroyer escorts (including the Samuel B. Roberts, which would also become legendary this day), the gross tonnage of the escort force was less than a fifth of the tonnage of the Yamato alone. However, Evans, a full-blooded Cherokee Indian, was essentially fearless. He had commanded another destoryer earlier in the war which had been forced to retreat from a vastly superior force. When he took command of Johnston, he declared to the crew that he would take the ship into harms way, and that anyone who did not want to go should transfer immediately. He declared that "I will never again retreat from an enemy force."

As the pagoda masts of Admiral Kurita's Center Force came into view, Evans spurred his ship into action. Aftering laying down smoke screens for the slow, vulnerable carriers, the Johnston alone turned towards the enemy and charged ahead at flank speed, a frontal assault that has been likened to the "Charge of the Light Brigade," but in reality the oods were even more steeply in the opposition's favor. Yet, without fear, Evans's ship bore straight towards the enemy formation, attempting to get within range of her short-ranged 5-inch turrets. Once in range, Evans launched all ten of his torpedoes, making at least one hit on a heavy cruiser and forcing it to turn away from the battle. Ducking in and out of smoke screens and weaving his way among the Japanese fleet, the Johnston was then hit by multiple 14-inch shells which destroyed the bridge, killed part of her engine power, and destroyed all steering links from the bridge to the engine room. Unfazed, Evans moved to the aft of the ship to continue fighting the battle. She exchanged fire with Japanese battleships over ten times her displacement, landing numerous hits while getting so close that the Japanese main batteries could not depress enough to hit her.

As the Johnston continued weaving through the enemy fleet, firing her main guns so rapidly than the barrels began glowing, she was joined by the Samuel B. Roberts, Heerman, and the Hoel, as well as numerous aircraft hastily scrambled from the embattled escort carriers and the other Taffy groups, some with guns only, most without the armor-piercing bombs and torpedoes they needed to inflict damage on heavy warships (many aircraft were seen to be making fake passes at enemy ships once their ammunition was expended). As the other escorts made their torpedo runs, Evans, unable to keep up, used his ship and guns to cover the other ships on their attack runs. In the confusion of the battle Johnston nearly collided with one of her sister ships. As the two ships passed, crewmen on the Roberts noted that they had seen Evans yelling orders down a hatch - the aft steering had been damaged as well and the injured Evans (who had lost the use of a hand by this point) had to shout steering directions down a hatch to a team that was manually turning the rudder.

The Johnston then engaged a Japanese destroyer squadron that was manuvering into torpedo range of the escort carriers. Engaging them with what remained of her guns, she scored enough hits to force the destoyer squadron away from their desired launch positions. Unfortunately, the increasing fire took its toll and eventually the Johnston was dead in the water, still firing what guns were left, but her fate was sealed. As Japanese ships closed in and more and more hits rocked the ships, Evans ordered his crew to abandon ship. The Johnston finally rolled over and sank, and as a Japanese ship sailed past, rejoining the rest of the battle, survivors of the Johnston noted that an officer on the bridge of the Japanese ship renderd a salute to his fallen foe. Evans was seen to have left the ship, but he was never found.

Evans was awarded the Medal of Honor posthumously and the Johnston and her crew received a Presidential Unit Citation, the highest unit award for a military unit. While Taffy 3 also lost the Samuel B. Roberts, the Hoel, and the escort carrier Gambier Bay during this one-sided affair, the constant, relentless air and surface attacks, spearheaded by the Johnston, were instrumental in delaying the Japanese Center Force. Fearful that additional forces would soon arrive, Kurita ordered his fleet to retire. So furious and relentless were the American attacks that day that Japanese logs would later show the destroyers of Taffy 3 identified as cruisers, and the much smaller destroyer escorts as destroyers. Despite the losses, the escort ships and desperate air attacks of the Taffy groups preserved most of the escort carriers, saved thousands of lives, and ultimately stalled and prevented what could have been a disastrous attack on the landing forces they were protecting.

Out of all the stories I've read in American military history, I find none more inspiring and moving than the ones about this battle. I highly recommend Hornfischer's book to anyone who has any interest in military history or anyone who wants a good read.

 

[Pilgrim]

This is a former Class mate and neighborhood friend of mine. A Naval destroyer and a hospital were named after him. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/USS_Caron_(DD-970)) . Not bad for a common everyday kid who just liked to play baseball in the field behind my house. We used to date the same girl in high school. She finally dumped us both.

*CARON, WAYNE MAURICE
Rank and organization: Hospital Corpsman Third Class, U.S. Navy, Headquarters and Service Company, 3d Battalion, 7th Marines, 1st Marine Division (Rein), FMF. Place and date: Quang Nam Province, Republic of Vietnam, 28 July 1968. Entered service at: Boston, Mass. Born: 2 November 1946, Middleboro, Mass. Citation: For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty while serving as platoon corpsman with Company K, during combat operations against enemy forces. While on a sweep through an open rice field HC3c. Caron's unit started receiving enemy small arms fire. Upon seeing 2 marine casualties fall, he immediately ran forward to render first aid, but found that they were dead. At this time, the platoon was taken under intense small-arms and automatic weapons fire, sustaining additional casualties. As he moved to the aid of his wounded comrades, HC3c. Caron was hit in the arm by enemy fire. Although knocked to the ground, he regained his feet and continued to the injured marines. He rendered medical assistance to the first marine he reached, who was grievously wounded, and undoubtedly was instrumental in saving the man's life. HC3c. Caron then ran toward the second wounded marine, but was again hit by enemy fire, this time in the leg. Nonetheless, he crawled the remaining distance and provided medical aid for this severely wounded man. HC3c. Caron started to make his way to yet another injured comrade, when he was again struck by enemy small-arms fire. Courageously and with unbelievable determination, HC3c. Caron continued his attempt to reach the third marine until he was killed by an enemy rocket round. His inspiring valor, steadfast determination and selfless dedication in the face of extreme danger, sustain and enhance the finest traditions of the U.S. Naval Service.​

 

[M60]

This is a former Class mate and neighborhood friend of mine. A Naval destroyer and a hospital were named after him. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/USS_Caron_(DD-970)) . Not bad for a common everyday kid who just liked to play baseball in the field behind my house. We used to date the same girl in high school. She finally dumped us both.

*CARON, WAYNE MAURICE
Rank and organization: Hospital Corpsman Third Class, U.S. Navy, Headquarters and Service Company, 3d Battalion, 7th Marines, 1st Marine Division (Rein), FMF. Place and date: Quang Nam Province, Republic of Vietnam, 28 July 1968. Entered service at: Boston, Mass. Born: 2 November 1946, Middleboro, Mass. Citation: For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty while serving as platoon corpsman with Company K, during combat operations against enemy forces. While on a sweep through an open rice field HC3c. Caron's unit started receiving enemy small arms fire. Upon seeing 2 marine casualties fall, he immediately ran forward to render first aid, but found that they were dead. At this time, the platoon was taken under intense small-arms and automatic weapons fire, sustaining additional casualties. As he moved to the aid of his wounded comrades, HC3c. Caron was hit in the arm by enemy fire. Although knocked to the ground, he regained his feet and continued to the injured marines. He rendered medical assistance to the first marine he reached, who was grievously wounded, and undoubtedly was instrumental in saving the man's life. HC3c. Caron then ran toward the second wounded marine, but was again hit by enemy fire, this time in the leg. Nonetheless, he crawled the remaining distance and provided medical aid for this severely wounded man. HC3c. Caron started to make his way to yet another injured comrade, when he was again struck by enemy small-arms fire. Courageously and with unbelievable determination, HC3c. Caron continued his attempt to reach the third marine until he was killed by an enemy rocket round. His inspiring valor, steadfast determination and selfless dedication in the face of extreme danger, sustain and enhance the finest traditions of the U.S. Naval Service.​

True that some called Wayne Corpsman, lots called him Doc, but you can bet that there was never a doubt in anyones mind that they all perceived him to be a Marine.
I Played ball with him as a kid too.

 

[KBCraig]

There are many great stories of heroism, but the MoH recipients will tell you there's no such thing as a "winner".

 

[OB1Kenobi]

Shughart and Gordon - http://www.history.army.mil/html/moh/somalia.html

Smith - http://www.army.mil/medalofhonor/smith/

ETA: http://www.northeastshooters.com/vb...ergeant-Benavidez-Medal-of-Honor-Speech-hooah!

video speech of MSG Benavidez in the op.

 

[glockguy17]

LIEUTENANT MICHAEL P. MURPHY
UNITED STATES NAVY

FOR SERVICE AS SET FORTH IN THE FOLLOWING

CITATION:

FOR CONSPICUOUS GALLANTRY AND INTREPIDITY AT THE RISK OF HIS LIFE ABOVE AND BEYOND THE CALL OF DUTY AS THE LEADER OF A SPECIAL RECONNAISSANCE ELEMENT WITH NAVAL SPECIAL WARFARE TASK UNIT AFGHANISTAN ON 27 AND 28 JUNE 2005. WHILE LEADING A MISSION TO LOCATE A HIGH-LEVEL ANTI-COALITION MILITIA LEADER, LIEUTENANT MURPHY DEMONSTRATED EXTRAORDINARY HEROISM IN THE FACE OF GRAVE DANGER IN THE VICINITY OF ASADABAD, KONAR PROVINCE, AFGHANISTAN. ON 28 JUNE 2005, OPERATING IN AN EXTREMELY RUGGED ENEMY-CONTROLLED AREA, LIEUTENANT MURPHY’S TEAM WAS DISCOVERED BY ANTI-COALITION MILITIA SYMPATHIZERS, WHO REVEALED THEIR POSITION TO TALIBAN FIGHTERS. AS A RESULT, BETWEEN 30 AND 40 ENEMY FIGHTERS BESIEGED HIS FOUR-MEMBER TEAM. DEMONSTRATING EXCEPTIONAL RESOLVE, LIEUTENANT MURPHY VALIANTLY LED HIS MEN IN ENGAGING THE LARGE ENEMY FORCE. THE ENSUING FIERCE FIREFIGHT RESULTED IN NUMEROUS ENEMY CASUALTIES, AS WELL AS THE WOUNDING OF ALL FOUR MEMBERS OF THE TEAM. IGNORING HIS OWN WOUNDS AND DEMONSTRATING EXCEPTIONAL COMPOSURE, LIEUTENANT MURPHY CONTINUED TO LEAD AND ENCOURAGE HIS MEN. WHEN THE PRIMARY COMMUNICATOR FELL MORTALLY WOUNDED, LIEUTENANT MURPHY REPEATEDLY ATTEMPTED TO CALL FOR ASSISTANCE FOR HIS BELEAGUERED TEAMMATES. REALIZING THE IMPOSSIBILITY OF COMMUNICATING IN THE EXTREME TERRAIN, AND IN THE FACE OF ALMOST CERTAIN DEATH, HE FOUGHT HIS WAY INTO OPEN TERRAIN TO GAIN A BETTER POSITION TO TRANSMIT A CALL. THIS DELIBERATE, HEROIC ACT DEPRIVED HIM OF COVER, EXPOSING HIM TO DIRECT ENEMY FIRE. FINALLY ACHIEVING CONTACT WITH HIS HEADQUARTERS, LIEUTENANT MURPHY MAINTAINED HIS EXPOSED POSITION WHILE HE PROVIDED HIS LOCATION AND REQUESTED IMMEDIATE SUPPORT FOR HIS TEAM. IN HIS FINAL ACT OF BRAVERY, HE CONTINUED TO ENGAGE THE ENEMY UNTIL HE WAS MORTALLY WOUNDED, GALLANTLY GIVING HIS LIFE FOR HIS COUNTRY AND FOR THE CAUSE OF FREEDOM. BY HIS SELFLESS LEADERSHIP, COURAGEOUS ACTIONS, AND EXTRAORDINARY DEVOTION TO DUTY, LIEUTENANT MURPHY REFLECTED GREAT CREDIT UPON HIMSELF AND UPHELD THE HIGHEST TRADITIONS OF THE UNITED STATES NAVAL SERVICE.

SIGNED GEORGE W. BUSH

 

[Knob Creek]

There are many great stories of heroism, but the MoH recipients will tell you there's no such thing as a "winner".

+1

 

[frenchman]

Stolen from the badass of the week website:



Last September, Corporal Dakota Meyer became the first United States Marine since Vietnam to receive the Medal of Honor and live to tell the tale. And while this one-man wrecking crew of Taliban annihilation may consider his own mission a failure because during six hours of non-stop combat he only managed to almost single-handedly rescue 36 of the 40 men trapped in a life-or-death firefight with a vastly superior, heavily-armed enemy force, I think pretty much every average Joe out there would have a damn hard time thinking about him as anything other than a stone-cold badass. It all started on the evening of September 8, 2009, when a dozen American Marines and two full platoons of Afghan Army troops were making their way up a narrow valley towards the formerly-Taliban-controlled village of Ganjgal. The Marines and Afghanis were preparing to attend a pre-arranged meeting with the village elders about how the Taliban really isn't all that great in the first place, when all of a sudden every light in the village simultaneously went out, and the whole "hey guys let's talk things out here" diplomacy operation was immediately replaced by muzzle flashes of AK-47s, RPK heavy machine guns, and rocket-propelled grenades flying in from every direction in a coordinated ambush. In the amount of time it took the Marines to radio in the words "oh ****" the 54 Americans and Afghanis were being pasted from three sides by a heavily-entrenched force of at least 150 Taliban warriors equipped with the most badass shit the Soviet Union had to offer in the early 80s.

​

Corporal Dakota Meyer was assigned to Marine Embedded Training Team 2-8, which, based on the name alone, we can assume to mean that this guy's day job had a hell of a lot more to do with lecturing recruits about keeping their rifles clean and a lot less to do with having pissed-off-as-**** a**h***s shooting assault rifle ammunition into your face. For this mission he'd been stationed at a rally point near the entrance of the valley, a few miles away from the raging cluster**** in the city, but when this guy started hearing frantic radio calls about ambushes, casualties, and all the other horrible shit that was going down he couldn't just sit back there with his hands in his pockets while his brothers were out there battling ferociously for their lives. So Meyer and his buddy, Staff Sergeant Juan Rodriguez-Chavez, did what any Marine in their situation would do – they immediately ran to the commanding officer and requested permission to ride out there and help. Their request was denied, as were subsequent USMC requests for artillery and infantry support from nearby Army units. But true badasses, almost by definition, refuse to take no for an answer, even when disregarding the negative response could possibly result in court-martial and/or a violent, painful death. First, in a very Gordon and Shughart-style maneuver, Meyer and Rodriguez-Chavez repeated their request four more times. They were rejected every time. Finally, they said **** it. Unable to sit back and listen his friends being shot to death on the radio while he sat around screwing with bullshit bureaucracy nonsense, Meyer simply grabbed his rifle and told his buddy, "we're going in." Rodriguez-Chavez didn't need much convincing – before Meyer even finished his sentence the Staff Sergeant was already behind the wheel warming the engine up.

​

Now Corporal Dakota Meyer's Primary MOS was Scout Sniper his official responsibility around this time involved training Marine Corps snipers in proper use of their optics. He wasn't a heavy weapons specialist, a turret gunner, or one of the Corps' designated "one-man ultimate killing machines", but that didn't stop this ferocious juggernaut of Taliban-smiting awesomeness from disobeying a direct order, hopping in the turret of the sort-of-stolen Humvee and launching straight-on into the teeth of an overwhelming enemy ambush at sixty miles an hour. I guess if this guy could cap an enemy soldier at 800 yards with a sniper rifle, he figured he could damn sure lay down an accurate-as-**** barrage of .50-caliber ammunition into a fortified horde of enemy infantry – so that's exactly what he did. Braving a hail of gunfire and RPGs reminiscent of the Army's Sunday drive through downtown Mogadishu in 1993, Meyer and Rodriguez-Chavez blasted through the enemy, smashing through the ambush in a frenzy of heavy weapons fire, screeching tires, and judicious use of the steel bumper. When they found a group of pinned-down Afghani troops, Rodriguez-Chaves pulled out an awesome handbrake turn to place the armored Humvee between the ambush and the Afghanis, then provided covering fire from the drivers' seat while Meyer jumped out of the turret, ran over to the first Afghan platoon, grabbed the wounded men, muscled them into the truck, and hopped back in the turret. The two Marines then hauled ass out of there with both the wounded and the healthy Afghan troops. Battling through some of the most hellaciously intense fighting any of those Marines had ever seen (and Meyer had spent a tour of duty in Fallujah), the convoy somehow escaped the valley in one piece.

[SIZE=-1]"I didn't think I was going to die. I knew I was."[/SIZE]​

But Dakota Meyer and Juan Rodriguez-Chavez were just getting warmed up. With their vehicle covered in pockmarks and bristling with shrapnel, these two hardcore Marines unloaded the wounded, made sure they were in a position to get medical attention to the wounded, and then got right back in the car and went back for their second of FIVE trips into the middle of the killzone.
The second time these guys Bo and Luke Duke'd it into the canyon, it was safe to say that this insane two-man rescue operation was now the primary target for pretty much every single member of the 150-man Taliban ambush Company. With his head, chest, and arms completely exposed out the top of the Humvee turret, 22 year-old former high school linebacker Dakota Meyer continued spraying out covering fire with the .50 cal, while Rodriguez-Chavez swerved past explosions, RPG contrails, and other shit reminiscent of the destruction of the Pillar of Autumn, hauling ass towards the second group of pinned-down Afghani soldiers. Once those guys were evacuated in a manner similar to the first group, the Marines then headed back a third time, this time driving straight into the enemy-occupied village, plowing through the rubble and the wreckage on the road and hauling sack through the streets while dudes fired AK-47s out the windows at them. Fueled by an unstoppable need to save his friends, Meyer desperately fought off daring Taliban warriors who, by this point, were going so far as to run right the **** up to the truck in an effort to throw hand grenades into the Humvee's windows. On this trip into town, Meyer and Rodriguez-Chavez found a group of American Marines. Meyer once again hopped out of the turret, drawing the enemy fire to himself, blasting away with his M4, and occasionally swapping rifles with wounded men when his weapon jammed or overheated. Firing with one arm, helping wounded men with the other, he loaded the wounded into the truck, and once again Staff Sergeant Juan Rodriguez-Chavez managed to get them out of there intact.

​

By their fifth trip into the now-insanely-raging warzone, Meyer had a huge piece of white-hot shrapnel painfully embedded in his arm, and his scorch-marked Humvee was basically being held together by duct tape and bullets, but they somehow managed to enter the village yet again, this time rolling in with a convoy consisting largely of the troops they'd rescued on their previous journeys into this veritable Hell on Earth, laying down curtains of fire in every direction. This time, however, the discovery was a little less heartening – when they came upon the last group of men trapped in the city they found the bodies of the four American Marines who had died together while fighting a fierce last stand against impossible odds. But Marines don't leave their own behind. Surrounded by fortified buildings packed full of snipers, sandbags, RPGs, and machine gunners, Meyer personally got out of the smoking vehicle yet again, loading the dead into the Humvee one by one while the enemy took potshots at him like a duck in a carnival shooting gallery, and once again burning rubber out of there. When the smoke finally cleared and the battle-rage subsided after six hours of nonstop fighting, Dakota Meyer and Juan Rodriguez-Chavez had saved the lives of 36 men and brought home the bodies of 4 fallen brothers.

[SIZE=-1]"A lot of people call me a hero, and it kills me.
I feel like the furthest thing from that because I let those guys down.
Anything that comes out of it, it’s not for me. It’s for those guys because they are the true heroes."[/SIZE]​

Meyer finished his tour of duty, returned home to Columbia, Kentucky, and was working at a construction comp any when he received a call from the President's aide informing him that he was going to receive the Medal of Honor for his actions.
Meyer told the aide that he was on the clock, and would have to call back on his lunch break. When he finally did, he made two requests – first, he wanted to drink a beer with the President in the Rose Garden, which, I have to admit, is probably one of the awesomest Medal of Honor-related requests I've ever heard. Second, he wasn't going to accept the award for himself, but on behalf of the men who had died in the fighting on that fateful evening. The Prez complied on both.

​

[SIZE=-1]"Dakota, I know that you've grappled with the grief of that day; that you've said your efforts were somehow a "failure" because your teammates didn't come home. But as your Commander-in-Chief, and on behalf of everyone here today and all Americans, I want you to know it's quite the opposite. You did your duty, above and beyond, and you kept the faith with the highest traditions of the Marine Corps that you love."[/SIZE]

 

[Harpua]

Since the other thread apparently jumped the tracks right off the bat, I wanted to start something here. Feel free to post about whichever MoH winner you want - they are all truly amazing stories. My favorite:

BENAVIDEZ, ROY P.
Rank and organization: Master Sergeant. Organization: Detachment B-56, 5th Special Forces Group, Republic of Vietnam
Place and date: West of Loc Ninh on May 2, 1968
Entered service at: Houston, Texas June 1955
Born: August 5, 1935, DeWitt County, Cuero, Texas.
Citation:
Master Sergeant (then Staff Sergeant) Roy P. Benavidez United States Army, who distinguished himself by a series of daring and extremely valorous actions on 2 May 1968 while assigned to Detachment B56, 5th Special Forces Group (Airborne), 1st Special Forces, Republic of Vietnam. On the morning of 2 May 1968, a 12-man Special Forces Reconnaissance Team was inserted by helicopters in a dense jungle area west of Loc Ninh, Vietnam to gather intelligence information about confirmed large-scale enemy activity. This area was controlled and routinely patrolled by the North Vietnamese Army. After a short period of time on the ground, the team met heavy enemy resistance, and requested emergency extraction. Three helicopters attempted extraction, but were unable to land due to intense enemy small arms and anti-aircraft fire. Sergeant Benavidez was at the Forward Operating Base in Loc Ninh monitoring the operation by radio when these helicopters returned to off-load wounded crewmembers and to assess aircraft damage. Sergeant Benavidez voluntarily boarded a returning aircraft to assist in another extraction attempt. Realizing that all the team members were either dead or wounded and unable to move to the pickup zone, he directed the aircraft to a nearby clearing where he jumped from the hovering helicopter, and ran approximately 75 meters under withering small arms fire to the crippled team. Prior to reaching the team's position he was wounded in his right leg, face, and head. Despite these painful injuries, he took charge, repositioning the team members and directing their fire to facilitate the landing of an extraction aircraft, and the loading of wounded and dead team members. He then threw smoke canisters to direct the aircraft to the team's position. Despite his severe wounds and under intense enemy fire, he carried and dragged half of the wounded team members to the awaiting aircraft. He then provided protective fire by running alongside the aircraft as it moved to pick up the remaining team members. As the enemy's fire intensified, he hurried to recover the body and classified documents on the dead team leader. When he reached the leader's body, Sergeant Benavidez was severely wounded by small arms fire in the abdomen and grenade fragments in his back. At nearly the same moment, the aircraft pilot was mortally wounded, and his helicopter crashed. Although in extremely critical condition due to his multiple wounds, Sergeant Benavidez secured the classified documents and made his way back to the wreckage, where he aided the wounded out of the overturned aircraft, and gathered the stunned survivors into a defensive perimeter. Under increasing enemy automatic weapons and grenade fire, he moved around the perimeter distributing water and ammunition to his weary men, reinstilling in them a will to live and fight. Facing a buildup of enemy opposition with a beleaguered team, Sergeant Benavidez mustered his strength, began calling in tactical air strikes and directed the fire from supporting gunships to suppress the enemy's fire and so permit another extraction attempt. He was wounded again in his thigh by small arms fire while administering first aid to a wounded team member just before another extraction helicopter was able to land. His indomitable spirit kept him going as he began to ferry his comrades to the craft. On his second trip with the wounded, he was clubbed from behind by an enemy soldier. In the ensuing hand-to-hand combat, he sustained additional wounds to his head and arms before killing his adversary. He then continued under devastating fire to carry the wounded to the helicopter. Upon reaching the aircraft, he spotted and killed two enemy soldiers who were rushing the craft from an angle that prevented the aircraft door gunner from firing upon them. With little strength remaining, he made one last trip to the perimeter to ensure that all classified material had been collected or destroyed, and to bring in the remaining wounded. Only then, in extremely serious condition from numerous wounds and loss of blood, did he allow himself to be pulled into the extraction aircraft. Sergeant Benavidez' gallant choice to join voluntarily his comrades who were in critical straits, to expose himself constantly to withering enemy fire, and his refusal to be stopped despite numerous severe wounds, saved the lives of at least eight men. His fearless personal leadership, tenacious devotion to duty, and extremely valorous actions in the face of overwhelming odds were in keeping with the highest traditions of the military service, and reflect the utmost credit on him and the United States Army.
[SUP]



Although it isn't listed in the citation, Benavidez was placed in a body bag and left for dead until he spit in the face of a doctor who came over to declare him dead. Fractured skull, bayonet wounds through both arms, multiple gunshot wounds and more shrapnel than I could probably carry in two hands. Unbelieveable what the human body can do in times of great need.

[/SUP]​

No words can describe this man or the level of respect I have for him and all soldiers in our military. I am not in the military, but I have the upmost respect for all of you who do serve. Thank you.

 

[Deleted member 12999]

Since the other thread apparently jumped the tracks right off the bat, I wanted to start something here. Feel free to post about whichever MoH winner you want - they are all truly amazing stories. My favorite:

BENAVIDEZ, ROY P.
Rank and organization: Master Sergeant. Organization: Detachment B-56, 5th Special Forces Group, Republic of Vietnam
Place and date: West of Loc Ninh on May 2, 1968
Entered service at: Houston, Texas June 1955
Born: August 5, 1935, DeWitt County, Cuero, Texas.
Citation:
Master Sergeant (then Staff Sergeant) Roy P. Benavidez United States Army, who distinguished himself by a series of daring and extremely valorous actions on 2 May 1968 while assigned to Detachment B56, 5th Special Forces Group (Airborne), 1st Special Forces, Republic of Vietnam. On the morning of 2 May 1968, a 12-man Special Forces Reconnaissance Team was inserted by helicopters in a dense jungle area west of Loc Ninh, Vietnam to gather intelligence information about confirmed large-scale enemy activity. This area was controlled and routinely patrolled by the North Vietnamese Army. After a short period of time on the ground, the team met heavy enemy resistance, and requested emergency extraction. Three helicopters attempted extraction, but were unable to land due to intense enemy small arms and anti-aircraft fire. Sergeant Benavidez was at the Forward Operating Base in Loc Ninh monitoring the operation by radio when these helicopters returned to off-load wounded crewmembers and to assess aircraft damage. Sergeant Benavidez voluntarily boarded a returning aircraft to assist in another extraction attempt. Realizing that all the team members were either dead or wounded and unable to move to the pickup zone, he directed the aircraft to a nearby clearing where he jumped from the hovering helicopter, and ran approximately 75 meters under withering small arms fire to the crippled team. Prior to reaching the team's position he was wounded in his right leg, face, and head. Despite these painful injuries, he took charge, repositioning the team members and directing their fire to facilitate the landing of an extraction aircraft, and the loading of wounded and dead team members. He then threw smoke canisters to direct the aircraft to the team's position. Despite his severe wounds and under intense enemy fire, he carried and dragged half of the wounded team members to the awaiting aircraft. He then provided protective fire by running alongside the aircraft as it moved to pick up the remaining team members. As the enemy's fire intensified, he hurried to recover the body and classified documents on the dead team leader. When he reached the leader's body, Sergeant Benavidez was severely wounded by small arms fire in the abdomen and grenade fragments in his back. At nearly the same moment, the aircraft pilot was mortally wounded, and his helicopter crashed. Although in extremely critical condition due to his multiple wounds, Sergeant Benavidez secured the classified documents and made his way back to the wreckage, where he aided the wounded out of the overturned aircraft, and gathered the stunned survivors into a defensive perimeter. Under increasing enemy automatic weapons and grenade fire, he moved around the perimeter distributing water and ammunition to his weary men, reinstilling in them a will to live and fight. Facing a buildup of enemy opposition with a beleaguered team, Sergeant Benavidez mustered his strength, began calling in tactical air strikes and directed the fire from supporting gunships to suppress the enemy's fire and so permit another extraction attempt. He was wounded again in his thigh by small arms fire while administering first aid to a wounded team member just before another extraction helicopter was able to land. His indomitable spirit kept him going as he began to ferry his comrades to the craft. On his second trip with the wounded, he was clubbed from behind by an enemy soldier. In the ensuing hand-to-hand combat, he sustained additional wounds to his head and arms before killing his adversary. He then continued under devastating fire to carry the wounded to the helicopter. Upon reaching the aircraft, he spotted and killed two enemy soldiers who were rushing the craft from an angle that prevented the aircraft door gunner from firing upon them. With little strength remaining, he made one last trip to the perimeter to ensure that all classified material had been collected or destroyed, and to bring in the remaining wounded. Only then, in extremely serious condition from numerous wounds and loss of blood, did he allow himself to be pulled into the extraction aircraft. Sergeant Benavidez' gallant choice to join voluntarily his comrades who were in critical straits, to expose himself constantly to withering enemy fire, and his refusal to be stopped despite numerous severe wounds, saved the lives of at least eight men. His fearless personal leadership, tenacious devotion to duty, and extremely valorous actions in the face of overwhelming odds were in keeping with the highest traditions of the military service, and reflect the utmost credit on him and the United States Army.
[SUP]



Although it isn't listed in the citation, Benavidez was placed in a body bag and left for dead until he spit in the face of a doctor who came over to declare him dead. Fractured skull, bayonet wounds through both arms, multiple gunshot wounds and more shrapnel than I could probably carry in two hands. Unbelieveable what the human body can do in times of great need.

[/SUP]​

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7lHkrqlT62o

 

[zyx123]

+1

+1

Over the years it's been a humbling experience to have met a number of holders of the Medal of Honor and the Navy Cross. To a man, none of them considered themselves "winners" and more than a few were very reluctant to accept the award at all. They prefer to call themselves "recipients" and most of them will tell you that they wear the award for the sacrifices of those who were around them in the incidents for which the award was made. For the most part they were modest, unassuming guys who you'd never see in a Rambo movie. They were aware that a large number of these awards are made posthumously and considered themselves, among other things, very lucky to have made it back.

 

[That Guy]

One of the interesting things you'll notice if you read a list of MoH citations is that a large percentage of them were awarded posthumously to a soldier, Marine or sailor who threw himself on a grenade. The amount of dedication those men had to the guys on their left and right to throw themselves on grenades is extraordinary - a split second decision which saves the lives of others while virtually ensuring their own deaths. To me it is one of the most amazing acts of courage you encounter in MoH stories. It isn't glamorous, the citation can't dress it up very much, but it is incredible nonetheless.

- - - Updated - - -

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7lHkrqlT62o

+1
This video is a great telling of Benevidez's story - it does the story much more justice than the actual citation.

 

[Scuppernog]

I had the privileged of riding home on the USNS Benavidez (T-AKR-306), from my first deployment. Thanks for sharing and honoring his service.

 

[OB1Kenobi]

COMBAT MEDICS! the most MoH awarded recipients more often than not.

 

[KBCraig]

COMBAT MEDICS! the most MoH awarded recipients more often than not.

Desmond T. Doss was a conscientious objector. When he was drafted in 1942 he reported for duty, but refused to carry a weapon or kill. He was the first CO ever awarded the Medal of Honor (there have been two others since then).

Citation:

He was a company aid man when the 1st Battalion assaulted a jagged escarpment 400 feet high. As our troops gained the summit, a heavy concentration of artillery, mortar and machinegun fire crashed into them, inflicting approximately 75 casualties and driving the others back. Pfc. Doss refused to seek cover and remained in the fire-swept area with the many stricken, carrying all 75 casualties one-by-one to the edge of the escarpment and there lowering them on a rope-supported litter down the face of a cliff to friendly hands. On May 2, he exposed himself to heavy rifle and mortar fire in rescuing a wounded man 200 yards forward of the lines on the same escarpment; and 2 days later he treated 4 men who had been cut down while assaulting a strongly defended cave, advancing through a shower of grenades to within 8 yards of enemy forces in a cave's mouth, where he dressed his comrades' wounds before making 4 separate trips under fire to evacuate them to safety. On May 5, he unhesitatingly braved enemy shelling and small arms fire to assist an artillery officer. He applied bandages, moved his patient to a spot that offered protection from small arms fire and, while artillery and mortar shells fell close by, painstakingly administered plasma. Later that day, when an American was severely wounded by fire from a cave, Pfc. Doss crawled to him where he had fallen 25 feet from the enemy position, rendered aid, and carried him 100 yards to safety while continually exposed to enemy fire. On May 21, in a night attack on high ground near Shuri, he remained in exposed territory while the rest of his company took cover, fearlessly risking the chance that he would be mistaken for an infiltrating Japanese and giving aid to the injured until he was himself seriously wounded in the legs by the explosion of a grenade. Rather than call another aid man from cover, he cared for his own injuries and waited 5 hours before litter bearers reached him and started carrying him to cover. The trio was caught in an enemy tank attack and Pfc. Doss, seeing a more critically wounded man nearby, crawled off the litter; and directed the bearers to give their first attention to the other man. Awaiting the litter bearers' return, he was again struck, by a sniper bullet while being carried off the field by a comrade, this time suffering a compound fracture of 1 arm. With magnificent fortitude he bound a rifle stock to his shattered arm as a splint and then crawled 300 yards over rough terrain to the aid station. Through his outstanding bravery and unflinching determination in the face of desperately dangerous conditions Pfc. Doss saved the lives of many soldiers. His name became a symbol throughout the 77th Infantry Division for outstanding gallantry far above and beyond the call of duty.

 

[codenamepaul]

One of the interesting things you'll notice if you read a list of MoH citations is that a large percentage of them were awarded posthumously to a soldier, Marine or sailor who threw himself on a grenade. The amount of dedication those men had to the guys on their left and right to throw themselves on grenades is extraordinary - a split second decision which saves the lives of others while virtually ensuring their own deaths. To me it is one of the most amazing acts of courage you encounter in MoH stories. It isn't glamorous, the citation can't dress it up very much, but it is incredible nonetheless.

- - - Updated - - -
.

GUNNERY SERGEANT ALLAN J. KELLOGG, JR.
UNITED STATES MARINE CORPS
for service as set forth in the following CITATION:
For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty while serving as a platoon sergeant with Company G, in connection with combat operations against the enemy on the night of March 11, 1970. Under the leadership of G/Sgt. Kellogg, a small unit from Company G was evacuating a fallen comrade when the unit came under a heavy volume of small arms and automatic weapons fire from a numerically superior enemy force occupying well-concealed emplacements in the surrounding jungle. During the ensuing fierce engagement, an enemy soldier managed to maneuver through the dense foliage to a position near the marines, and hurled a hand grenade into their midst which glanced off the chest of G/Sgt. Kellogg. Quick to act, he forced the grenade into the mud in which he was standing, threw himself over the lethal weapon and absorbed the full effects of its detonation with his body thereby preventing serious injury or possible death to several of his fellow marines. Although suffering multiple injuries to his chest and his right shoulder and arm, G/Sgt. Kellogg resolutely continued to direct the efforts of his men until all were able to maneuver to the relative safety of the company perimeter. By his heroic and decisive action in risking his life to save the lives of his comrades, G/Sgt. Kellogg reflected the highest credit upon himself and upheld the finest traditions of the Marine Corps and the U.S. Naval Service.[2]
[edit]

I was honored to have served with Sgt Maj Kellogg in 1988. He (at that time) was the last active duty Marine to have been awarded the medal.

 

[ccm75]

Good stuff...

My thought from last year:

http://www.northeastshooters.com/vbulletin/threads/119805-Three-names-we-should-know?highlight=

 

[Coastie_Compton]

Well I will have to recognize the only USCG MOH recipient

DOUGLAS A. MUNRO
Signalman 1st class
Died on guadalcanal at age 22

Citation

For extraordinary heroism and conspicuous gallantry in action above and beyond the call of duty as Officer-in-Charge of a group of Higgins boats, engaged in the evacuation of a Battalion of Marines trapped by enemy Japanese forces at Point Cruz, Guadalcanal, on September 27, 1942. After making preliminary plans for the evacuation of nearly 500 beleaguered Marines, Munro, under constant risk of his life, daringly led five of his small craft toward the shore. As he closed the beach, he signaled the others to land, and then in order to draw the enemy's fire and protect the heavily loaded boats, he valiantly placed his craft with its two small guns as a shield between the beachhead and the Japanese. When the perilous task of evacuation was nearly completed, Munro was killed by enemy fire, but his crew, two of whom were wounded, carried on until the last boat had loaded and cleared the beach. By his outstanding leadership, expert planning, and dauntless devotion to duty, he and his courageous comrades undoubtedly saved the lives of many who otherwise would have perished. He gallantly gave up his life in defense of his country.

 

[ochmude]

Bad-ass of the Week: Jacklyn H. Lucas

Jacklyn H. Lucas

Everyone with half a functioning brain knows that diving on a live hand grenade to save your friends is one of the single most selfless, balls-out heroic acts of valor that any human being can perform. It takes a special, rare kind of person to come face-to-face with their own destruction, resist every natural impulse of self-preservation, and unhesitatingly give themselves up in a final, purely-selfless feat of bravery, trading in the most precious thing a human has to offer – their life – so that others might live. It's such a paragon of ultimate selfless human sacrifice that nowadays it's the standard go-to analogy for everything from taking all the blame for a team-wide corporate ****-up to unselfishly talking up the homeliest girl at the bar while your buddy tries to hook up with her best friend (who is invariably about a thousand times hotter than him and wouldn’t spit on him if he were melting in a pool of Hydrochloric acid some twisted bizarro alternate universe where tan silicone-augmented vat-grown bar-hopping college chicks are irresistibly attracted to sweaty neckbeards). It's such a heroic testament to the will of the human spirit that more Medals of Honor and Victoria Crosses have been handed out for this single act than for any other deed in the history of combat.

Unfortunately, despite this being a universally-acknowledged feat of righteous heroic awesomeness, the fact that the entire action is over in three to five seconds combine with some horrifically-tragic consequences for the hero to make grenade-hopping a pretty tough subject to write a Badass of the Week article about.

Unless, of course, we're talking about Jack Lucas of the 1st Battalion, 26th Marines.

Because Jack Lucas jumped on not one but two grenades to save his friends.

And lived.

Jacklyn H. Lucas was born on Valentine's Day, 1928, in some rural town in North Carolina with a population so tiny that if everyone in the entire county showed up at UNC for a basketball game they probably couldn't sell out one section of the Dean Smith Center. Cursed with one of the most terrible first names in history, Jacklyn did the Boy Named Sue thing and spent his entire life training to be so ungodly hardcore that anyone who referred to him by any name other than Jack would end up forcibly swallowing their own genitalia, eventually enlisting as a cadet at Edwards Military Institute in Salemburg, NC.

Things were going fine for a while, but Jack's life changed pretty dramatically on December 7, 1941, when he got news that a super-secret ninja sneak-attack of Japanese fighter-bombers had just craterized the American battleship fleet at Pearl Harbor into a towering inferno of twisted metal.

He kind of took it personally.

So while Lucas' 13 year-old idiot classmates were all hanging around their school doing dipshit teenage boy stuff like slam-dunking M80s into public toilets and superglueing their friends' lockers shut, Lucas just got pissed. Like, super pissed. Like King Kong stopping by on the way home from work after a miserable day at the office only to find that the badass frozen yogurt place down the street is totally out of banana sherbet so he just snorts a line of PCP and goes Falling Down on everyone pissed. He stormed out of his military school (the first of many times he'd be listed AWOL in his professional career), went across the border to Virginia, bribed some notary public to swear he was 17, then hitched a ride to the nearest Marine Corps Recruiting Station, marched his hefty 5'8", 200-pound frame through the front door like he owned the place, forged his Mom's signature on enlistment paperwork, and shipped out to Parris Island for US Marine Corps Boot Camp.

At thirteen.

Lucas made it through the most intense basic training the United States military has to offer, was made a Marine at 14, and was subsequently assigned to work a crappy manual labor job as part of the Training Battalion on Parris Island.

Jack Lucas responded to this unsatisfactory posting by abandoning his station, hitching a ride to Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, grabbing the first USMC officer he could find, and telling him there was a clerical error and he was supposed to be stationed on the front lines in a combat arms role.

They made him a truck driver at the Marine Corps base on Pearl Harbor.

Unsatisfied by his current status of "not blowing the shit out of the enemy at all corners wherever he could find them", and denied in all of his requests to transfer to a front-line infantry unit, Jack Lucas spend the next couple of years raising hell across Honolulu. He was arrested for starting a drunken bar fight. He was disciplined for going AWOL so he could head into town and meet girls. He was busted by a Military Policeman for walking through the barracks with a case of beer, then was subsequently arrested for punching that same Military Policeman in the face when that power-tripping a**h*** tried to take the beer away from him.

Tired of spending his nights in the brig and worried that the war was going to end without him every hoisting a rifle in battle, Lucas finally decided, **** it, I'm going to go to war and I don't give a shit who wants to stop me. He went down to the docks, snuck aboard a military transport ship headed for the front lines, then spent a month living off crumbs hiding from the crew because he was worried if they discovered him they'd ship his ass back to Hawaii for a court-martial.

Of the 40,000 Marines who hit the beach at Iwo Jima on or around February 20th, 1945, 17-year-old Private Jack Lucas of the 1st Battalion, 26th Marines, 5th Marine Division was one of the only infantrymen who assaulted the beachhead without a weapon. He changed that pretty quickly. He grabbed one off a dead man in the surf, racked the slide, and charged into battle.

Rushing through the brutal, endless curtains of strafing machine gun and artillery fire that raked the beach, Lucas grabbed his newly-acquired weapon and charged ahead, undaunted by the explosions and bullets zipping all around. He ran ahead, reached the relative safety of the treeline, and fell in with a four-man fireteam that had already started working their way through the dense jungle, trying to clear out one of the most tenacious and ferociously-hardcore enemies the United States ever faced.

Lucas and his men were making their way through a ravine, fighting every step of the way, when suddenly some bad shit started to go down. It turned out that the Japanese had dug this ridiculously-intricate series of caverns and secret passages that ran through the entire island, so just as Lucas and his buddies thought they were going to launch their final assault on a Japanese machine gun nest, they came to the horrible realization that all 11 men in that pillbox had gone into a tunnel, crawled underneath them, and popped up directly behind the Marines.

The Marines turned to fire, and in Jack Lucas' much-awaited first moments of real battle his first round went through the helmet of an enemy soldier, killing him on the spot.

His second round jammed in the rifle. I guess that's what happens with rifles you pick up in ankle-deep water on blood-soaked sandy beaches.

It was at this point that Jack Lucas saw the live hand grenade that had just landed at his feet. He threw his body on it without hesitation, screaming for the other Marines to take cover.

When a second enemy grenade landed within arms' reach, Lucas grabbed it and jammed it under his body as well.

The Type 97 Fragmentation Grenade is a 16-ounce metal ball stuffed with 65 grams of TNT and a 5 second timed-detonation mechanism. Now, a common misconception about hand grenades is that they create some huge fiery explosion that blows people into the next area code like they were launched out of a flaming death-catapult, then they proceed to ignite everything in the general vicinity up to and including the Earth's atmosphere. But, while the explosive power unleashed by a frag grenade is certainly not the sort of thing you want to wake up to every morning, what kills the majority of people isn't the bomb but the flying bits of shrapnel. Basically, the explosion is just a catalyst that shatters the metal outside of the grenade and sends tens of thousands of tiny, razor-sharp metal splinters hurtling through the air in every direction, shredding anything in their wake, and killing or maiming anyone or anything within 100 to 150 feet. You ever wonder why some grenades look like pineapples? It's because when the bomb goes off each little section of the pineapple morphs into a bullet firing off into some random direction. It ain't pretty.

And Jack Lucas just had two of those little bastards blow up straight into his torso. Sure, his friends survived thanks to his heroism, but all that metal has to go somewhere, and where it went was straight into Lucas' body.

The rest of the Marine fire team, pumped-up by Lucas' bravery and the fact that they weren't currently all dead, proceeded to fight like demons and push the Japanese back, driving them from the position and capturing that sector.

When they came back to take the dog tags off of their fallen brother, they noticed that not only was Lucas alive, he was actually still conscious.

I don't want to go on the cart.

The true unsung heroes of Iwo Jima – the Navy Corpsmen – were called in on the spot, hauling the severely-****ed-up Lucas out of there on a stretcher while simultaneously using their .45 pistols to fight off a Japanese banzai counter-attack. They fought through the warzone, got Lucas to a hospital ship, and it took 21 surgeries for them to remove 250 pieces of shrapnel from every major organ in his body.

Seven months later, Jack Lucas personally walked up to Harry S. Truman and received his Medal of Honor in person. He'd already made a complete recovery.

He was six days past his seventeenth birthday – the youngest Marine to ever receive the award.

After the war, Lucas went home and fulfilled his promise to his mother to finish school, attending his first day of Ninth Grade with his Medal of Honor around his neck. He finished college, went on a USO speaking tour, was married three times, survived his second wife's attempt to hire a hitman to murder him (she hadn't got the message from the Japanese that this guy was impervious to conventional weapons), and then, at age 40, decided to get over his fear of heights by enlisting in the 82nd Airborne as a paratrooper. On his first training jump, both parachutes failed to open. As his team leader astutely pointed out, "Jack was the last one out of the plane and the first one on the ground."

He fell 3,500 feet through the air without a parachute. He attempted a badass commando roll just as he was about to splat on the earth Wile E. Coyote style.

He not only lived, he walked away unscathed.

Two weeks later, he was back in the plane on his second training jump. That one went better. Four years later he finished his tour as a Captain in the 82nd Airborne Division.

His adventures in miraculously surviving death now complete, ran a successful business selling beef to people outside Washington, DC, wrote an appropriately-named autobiography titled Indestructible, met every president from Truman to Clinton, had his original Medal of Honor citation laid out in the hull of the USS Iwo Jima, and died in 2008 at the age of 80. From cancer, of all things.

 

[PatMcD]

Bad-ass of the Week: Jacklyn H. Lucas

Jacklyn H. Lucas

Everyone with half a functioning brain knows that diving on a live hand grenade to save your friends is one of the single most selfless, balls-out heroic acts of valor that any human being can perform. It takes a special, rare kind of person to come face-to-face with their own destruction, resist every natural impulse of self-preservation, and unhesitatingly give themselves up in a final, purely-selfless feat of bravery, trading in the most precious thing a human has to offer – their life – so that others might live. It's such a paragon of ultimate selfless human sacrifice that nowadays it's the standard go-to analogy for everything from taking all the blame for a team-wide corporate ****-up to unselfishly talking up the homeliest girl at the bar while your buddy tries to hook up with her best friend (who is invariably about a thousand times hotter than him and wouldn’t spit on him if he were melting in a pool of Hydrochloric acid some twisted bizarro alternate universe where tan silicone-augmented vat-grown bar-hopping college chicks are irresistibly attracted to sweaty neckbeards). It's such a heroic testament to the will of the human spirit that more Medals of Honor and Victoria Crosses have been handed out for this single act than for any other deed in the history of combat.

Unfortunately, despite this being a universally-acknowledged feat of righteous heroic awesomeness, the fact that the entire action is over in three to five seconds combine with some horrifically-tragic consequences for the hero to make grenade-hopping a pretty tough subject to write a Badass of the Week article about.

Unless, of course, we're talking about Jack Lucas of the 1st Battalion, 26th Marines.

Because Jack Lucas jumped on not one but two grenades to save his friends.

And lived.

Jacklyn H. Lucas was born on Valentine's Day, 1928, in some rural town in North Carolina with a population so tiny that if everyone in the entire county showed up at UNC for a basketball game they probably couldn't sell out one section of the Dean Smith Center. Cursed with one of the most terrible first names in history, Jacklyn did the Boy Named Sue thing and spent his entire life training to be so ungodly hardcore that anyone who referred to him by any name other than Jack would end up forcibly swallowing their own genitalia, eventually enlisting as a cadet at Edwards Military Institute in Salemburg, NC.

Things were going fine for a while, but Jack's life changed pretty dramatically on December 7, 1941, when he got news that a super-secret ninja sneak-attack of Japanese fighter-bombers had just craterized the American battleship fleet at Pearl Harbor into a towering inferno of twisted metal.

He kind of took it personally.

So while Lucas' 13 year-old idiot classmates were all hanging around their school doing dipshit teenage boy stuff like slam-dunking M80s into public toilets and superglueing their friends' lockers shut, Lucas just got pissed. Like, super pissed. Like King Kong stopping by on the way home from work after a miserable day at the office only to find that the badass frozen yogurt place down the street is totally out of banana sherbet so he just snorts a line of PCP and goes Falling Down on everyone pissed. He stormed out of his military school (the first of many times he'd be listed AWOL in his professional career), went across the border to Virginia, bribed some notary public to swear he was 17, then hitched a ride to the nearest Marine Corps Recruiting Station, marched his hefty 5'8", 200-pound frame through the front door like he owned the place, forged his Mom's signature on enlistment paperwork, and shipped out to Parris Island for US Marine Corps Boot Camp.

At thirteen.

Lucas made it through the most intense basic training the United States military has to offer, was made a Marine at 14, and was subsequently assigned to work a crappy manual labor job as part of the Training Battalion on Parris Island.

Jack Lucas responded to this unsatisfactory posting by abandoning his station, hitching a ride to Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, grabbing the first USMC officer he could find, and telling him there was a clerical error and he was supposed to be stationed on the front lines in a combat arms role.

They made him a truck driver at the Marine Corps base on Pearl Harbor.

Unsatisfied by his current status of "not blowing the shit out of the enemy at all corners wherever he could find them", and denied in all of his requests to transfer to a front-line infantry unit, Jack Lucas spend the next couple of years raising hell across Honolulu. He was arrested for starting a drunken bar fight. He was disciplined for going AWOL so he could head into town and meet girls. He was busted by a Military Policeman for walking through the barracks with a case of beer, then was subsequently arrested for punching that same Military Policeman in the face when that power-tripping a**h*** tried to take the beer away from him.

Tired of spending his nights in the brig and worried that the war was going to end without him every hoisting a rifle in battle, Lucas finally decided, **** it, I'm going to go to war and I don't give a shit who wants to stop me. He went down to the docks, snuck aboard a military transport ship headed for the front lines, then spent a month living off crumbs hiding from the crew because he was worried if they discovered him they'd ship his ass back to Hawaii for a court-martial.

Of the 40,000 Marines who hit the beach at Iwo Jima on or around February 20th, 1945, 17-year-old Private Jack Lucas of the 1st Battalion, 26th Marines, 5th Marine Division was one of the only infantrymen who assaulted the beachhead without a weapon. He changed that pretty quickly. He grabbed one off a dead man in the surf, racked the slide, and charged into battle.

Rushing through the brutal, endless curtains of strafing machine gun and artillery fire that raked the beach, Lucas grabbed his newly-acquired weapon and charged ahead, undaunted by the explosions and bullets zipping all around. He ran ahead, reached the relative safety of the treeline, and fell in with a four-man fireteam that had already started working their way through the dense jungle, trying to clear out one of the most tenacious and ferociously-hardcore enemies the United States ever faced.

Lucas and his men were making their way through a ravine, fighting every step of the way, when suddenly some bad shit started to go down. It turned out that the Japanese had dug this ridiculously-intricate series of caverns and secret passages that ran through the entire island, so just as Lucas and his buddies thought they were going to launch their final assault on a Japanese machine gun nest, they came to the horrible realization that all 11 men in that pillbox had gone into a tunnel, crawled underneath them, and popped up directly behind the Marines.

The Marines turned to fire, and in Jack Lucas' much-awaited first moments of real battle his first round went through the helmet of an enemy soldier, killing him on the spot.

His second round jammed in the rifle. I guess that's what happens with rifles you pick up in ankle-deep water on blood-soaked sandy beaches.

It was at this point that Jack Lucas saw the live hand grenade that had just landed at his feet. He threw his body on it without hesitation, screaming for the other Marines to take cover.

When a second enemy grenade landed within arms' reach, Lucas grabbed it and jammed it under his body as well.

The Type 97 Fragmentation Grenade is a 16-ounce metal ball stuffed with 65 grams of TNT and a 5 second timed-detonation mechanism. Now, a common misconception about hand grenades is that they create some huge fiery explosion that blows people into the next area code like they were launched out of a flaming death-catapult, then they proceed to ignite everything in the general vicinity up to and including the Earth's atmosphere. But, while the explosive power unleashed by a frag grenade is certainly not the sort of thing you want to wake up to every morning, what kills the majority of people isn't the bomb but the flying bits of shrapnel. Basically, the explosion is just a catalyst that shatters the metal outside of the grenade and sends tens of thousands of tiny, razor-sharp metal splinters hurtling through the air in every direction, shredding anything in their wake, and killing or maiming anyone or anything within 100 to 150 feet. You ever wonder why some grenades look like pineapples? It's because when the bomb goes off each little section of the pineapple morphs into a bullet firing off into some random direction. It ain't pretty.

And Jack Lucas just had two of those little bastards blow up straight into his torso. Sure, his friends survived thanks to his heroism, but all that metal has to go somewhere, and where it went was straight into Lucas' body.

The rest of the Marine fire team, pumped-up by Lucas' bravery and the fact that they weren't currently all dead, proceeded to fight like demons and push the Japanese back, driving them from the position and capturing that sector.

When they came back to take the dog tags off of their fallen brother, they noticed that not only was Lucas alive, he was actually still conscious.

I don't want to go on the cart.

The true unsung heroes of Iwo Jima – the Navy Corpsmen – were called in on the spot, hauling the severely-****ed-up Lucas out of there on a stretcher while simultaneously using their .45 pistols to fight off a Japanese banzai counter-attack. They fought through the warzone, got Lucas to a hospital ship, and it took 21 surgeries for them to remove 250 pieces of shrapnel from every major organ in his body.

Seven months later, Jack Lucas personally walked up to Harry S. Truman and received his Medal of Honor in person. He'd already made a complete recovery.

He was six days past his seventeenth birthday – the youngest Marine to ever receive the award.

After the war, Lucas went home and fulfilled his promise to his mother to finish school, attending his first day of Ninth Grade with his Medal of Honor around his neck. He finished college, went on a USO speaking tour, was married three times, survived his second wife's attempt to hire a hitman to murder him (she hadn't got the message from the Japanese that this guy was impervious to conventional weapons), and then, at age 40, decided to get over his fear of heights by enlisting in the 82nd Airborne as a paratrooper. On his first training jump, both parachutes failed to open. As his team leader astutely pointed out, "Jack was the last one out of the plane and the first one on the ground."

He fell 3,500 feet through the air without a parachute. He attempted a badass commando roll just as he was about to splat on the earth Wile E. Coyote style.

He not only lived, he walked away unscathed.

Two weeks later, he was back in the plane on his second training jump. That one went better. Four years later he finished his tour as a Captain in the 82nd Airborne Division.

His adventures in miraculously surviving death now complete, ran a successful business selling beef to people outside Washington, DC, wrote an appropriately-named autobiography titled Indestructible, met every president from Truman to Clinton, had his original Medal of Honor citation laid out in the hull of the USS Iwo Jima, and died in 2008 at the age of 80. From cancer, of all things.

Holy Crap! Now why don't we see movies made about that guy?!

 

[That Guy]

Great posts, everyone. Keep 'em coming.

 

[Timber]

Barger, Charles D. WWI.

Official Citation: Learning that 2 daylight patrols had been caught out in No Man's Land and were unable to return, Pfc. Barger and another stretcher bearer upon their own initiative made 2 trips 500 yards beyond our lines, under constant machinegun fire, and rescued 2 wounded officers.

Wiki:

Barger joined the Army from Stotts City in 1916,[2] and by October 31, 1918, was a private first class serving as a stretcher bearer in Company L of the 354th Infantry Regiment, 89th Division.[3] On that day, near Bois-de-Bantheville, France, Barger's division sent several patrols into no man's land to reconnoiter German positions in preparation for an advance as part of the Meuse-Argonne Offensive. Unusually, the patrols had been sent out during daylight, rather than waiting for the cover of darkness. Two patrols from Barger's regiment became pinned down by heavy rifle and machine gun fire. Second Lieutenant John M. Millis was seriously wounded in the legs and ordered his men to leave without him. One man managed to crawl to the safety of the Allied lines and brought news that Millis and another wounded officer were trapped in no man's land.[4]

Upon hearing this, Barger and another stretcher bearer, Private First Class Jesse N. Funk, voluntarily ran 500 yards (460 m) through heavy machine gun fire with their stretcher and rescued Millis.[3][4] They then returned to no man's land and rescued the other officer, First Lieutenant Ernest G. Rowell.[4] For these actions, both Barger and Funk were awarded the Medal of Honor the next year.[3] These were the only Medals of Honor received by Army medical personnel in World War I.[5] Barger was awarded numerous other decorations for his service in the war, including the Distinguished Service Cross, the Bronze Star, ten Purple Hearts, and a number of foreign decorations such as the Médaille militaire and Croix de guerre from France and the Croce di Guerra from Italy.

Later years and death

Barger married Ruth Bailey and had three children: Charles D. Barger, Jr., born in 1923, Joseph Elmer Barger, born in 1924, and "Dodi" Mable Louise Barger, born in 1927.[1] He had difficulty adjusting to civilian life and struggled to stay employed. He was a member of the American Legion, and fellow veterans from that group helped him find work until "the general public and those who could give employment to veterans became apathetic to the appeals for help on the ground[s that] he was a national hero".[7] He worked on his adoptive uncle's farm near Stotts City in 1920, as a construction worker in Waco, Missouri, the next year, and then as a Kansas City police officer.[6][8] He remained with the police force for twelve years before moving to a farm four miles southwest of Oak Grove, outside of Kansas City.[9]

On the night of November 23, 1936, county police were called to Barger's home, where they found him wielding a large hunting knife and setting fire to his farmhouse. He had three self-inflicted wounds to his throat, and the deputies reported that "his clothing was torn and his body burned in a dozen places." When the officers attempted to arrest him for threatening to kill his wife, he lunged at them with the knife. Deputy Frank Ridenour fired in self-defense, seriously wounding Barger. He was taken to the Kansas City General Hospital and died two days later.[9] He was buried at Blue Springs Cemetery in Blue Springs, not far from his Oak Grove home

 

[theGringo]

When my son went to WLC recently, he had to give an oral brief on Benavidez. The subject was chosen for him. He lost points for going over time. It was a 3 -5 minute brief, and he took 9 minutes. Dan still feels he didn't do the man justice, and couldn't if given an hour.

 

[Skysoldier]

ROCCO, LOUIS R.

Rank and organization: Warrant Officer (then Sergeant First Class), U.S. Army, Advisory Team 162, U.S. Military Assistance Command. Place and date: Northeast of Katum, Republic of Vietnam, 24 May 1970. Entered service at: Los Angeles, Calif. Born: 19 November 1938, Albuquerque, N. Mex.

Citation:
WO Rocco distinguished himself when he volunteered to accompany a medical evacuation team on an urgent mission to evacuate 8 critically wounded Army of the Republic of Vietnam personnel. As the helicopter approached the landing zone, it became the target for intense enemy automatic weapons fire. Disregarding his own safety, WO Rocco identified and placed accurate suppressive fire on the enemy positions as the aircraft descended toward the landing zone. Sustaining major damage from the enemy fire, the aircraft was forced to crash land, causing WO Rocco to sustain a fractured wrist and hip and a severely bruised back. Ignoring his injuries, he extracted the survivors from the burning wreckage, sustaining burns to his own body. Despite intense enemy fire, WO Rocco carried each unconscious man across approximately 20 meters of exposed terrain to the Army of the Republic of Vietnam perimeter. On each trip, his severely burned hands and broken wrist caused excruciating pain, but the lives of the unconscious crash survivors were more important than his personal discomfort, and he continued his rescue efforts. Once inside the friendly position, WO Rocco helped administer first aid to his wounded comrades until his wounds and burns caused him to collapse and lose consciousness. His bravery under fire and intense devotion to duty were directly responsible for saving 3 of his fellow soldiers from certain death. His unparalleled bravery in the face of enemy fire, his complete disregard for his own pain and injuries, and his performance were far above and beyond the call of duty and were in keeping with the highest traditions of self-sacrifice and courage of the military service.

I had the extreme privelige of knowing "Rick" Rocco and shared more than a few beers with him in Albuquerque at our annual Airborne Day Barbecues.

He spent his life helping Veterans, and his loss was felt by all...

 

[Skysoldier]

Rank and organization: Private First Class, U.S. Army, Company C, 1st Battalion, 503d Infantry 173d Airborne Brigade. Place and date: Dak To, Republic of Vietnam, November 12, 1967. Entered service at: Boston, Mass. Born: April 16, 1945, Boston, Mass.

Citation:


For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity in action at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty. Pfc. Barnes distinguished himself by exceptional heroism while engaged in combat against hostile forces. Pfc. Barnes was serving as a grenadier when his unit was attacked by a North Vietnamese force, estimated to be a battalion. Upon seeing the crew of a machine gun team killed, Pfc. Barnes, without hesitation, dashed through the bullet swept area, manned the machine gun, and killed 9 enemy soldiers as they assaulted his position. While pausing just long enough to retrieve more ammunition, Pfc. Barnes observed an enemy grenade thrown into the midst of some severely wounded personnel close to his position. Realizing that the grenade could further injure or kill the majority of the wounded personnel, he sacrificed his life by throwing himself directly onto the hand grenade as it exploded. Through his indomitable courage, complete disregard for his own safety, and profound concern for his fellow soldiers, he averted a probable loss of life and injury to the wounded members of his unit. Pfc. Barnes' extraordinary heroism, and intrepidity at the cost of his life, above and beyond the call of duty, are in the highest traditions of military service and reflect great credit upon himself, his unit, and the U.S. Army.[2]

This thread cannot be complete without John Barnes. One of Massachussett's own!

The New England Chapter of the 173rd Airborne Association honors him every year with a 24 hour Vigil at his Memorial.

 

[Serapis]

These two men were some HARD warriors!!! Made famous their actions by the book and movie "Blackhawk Down."


*GORDON, GARY I.

Rank and organization: Master Sergeant, U.S. Army. Place and date: 3 October 1993, Mogadishu, Somalia. Entered service at: ----- Born: Lincoln, Maine. Citation: Master Sergeant Gordon, United States Army, distinguished himself by actions above and beyond the call of duty on 3 October 1993, while serving as Sniper Team Leader, United States Army Special Operations Command with Task Force Ranger in Mogadishu, Somalia. Master Sergeant Gordon's sniper team provided precision fires from the lead helicopter during an assault and at two helicopter crash sites, while subjected to intense automatic weapons and rocket propelled grenade fires. When Master Sergeant Gordon learned that ground forces were not immediately available to secure the second crash site, he and another sniper unhesitatingly volunteered to be inserted to protect the four critically wounded personnel, despite being well aware of the growing number of enemy personnel closing in on the site. After his third request to be inserted, Master Sergeant Gordon received permission to perform his volunteer mission. When debris and enemy ground fires at the site caused them to abort the first attempt, Master Sergeant Gordon was inserted one hundred meters south of the crash site. Equipped with only his sniper rifle and a pistol, Master Sergeant Gordon and his fellow sniper, while under intense small arms fire from the enemy, fought their way through a dense maze of shanties and shacks to reach the critically injured crew members. Master Sergeant Gordon immediately pulled the pilot and the other crew members from the aircraft, establishing a perimeter which placed him and his fellow sniper in the most vulnerable position. Master Sergeant Gordon used his long range rifle and side arm to kill an undetermined number of attackers until he depleted his ammunition. Master Sergeant Gordon then went back to the wreckage, recovering some of the crew's weapons and ammunition. Despite the fact that he was critically low on ammunition, he provided some of it to the dazed pilot and then radioed for help. Master Sergeant Gordon continued to travel the perimeter, protecting the downed crew. After his team member was fatally wounded and his own rifle ammunition exhausted, Master Sergeant Gordon returned to the wreckage, recovering a rifle with the last five rounds of ammunition and gave it to the pilot with the words, "good luck." Then, armed only with his pistol, Master Sergeant Gordon continued to fight until he was fatally wounded. His actions saved the pilot's life. Master Sergeant Gordon's extraordinary heroism and devotion to duty were in keeping with the highest standards of military service and reflect great credit upon him, his unit and the United States Army.

*SHUGHART, RANDALL D.

Rank and organization: Sergeant First Class, U.S. Army. Place and date: 3 October 1993, Mogadishu, Somalia. Entered service at: ----- Born: Newville, Pennsylvania. Citation: Sergeant First Class Shughart, United States Army, distinguished himself by actions above and beyond the call of duty on 3 October 1993, while serving as a Sniper Team Member, United States Army Special Operations Command with Task Force Ranger in Mogadishu, Somalia. Sergeant First Class Shughart provided precision sniper fires from the lead helicopter during an assault on a building and at two helicopter crash sites, while subjected to intense automatic weapons and rocket propelled grenade fires. While providing critical suppressive fires at the second crash site, Sergeant First Class Shughart and his team leader learned that ground forces were not immediately available to secure the site. Sergeant First Class Shughart and his team leader unhesitatingly volunteered to be inserted to protect the four critically wounded personnel, despite being well aware of the growing number of enemy personnel closing in on the site. After their third request to be inserted, Sergeant First Class Shughart and his team leader received permission to perform this volunteer mission. When debris and enemy ground fires at the site caused them to abort the first attempt, Sergeant First Class Shughart and his team leader were inserted one hundred meters south of the crash site. Equipped with only his sniper rifle and a pistol, Sergeant First Class Shughart and his team leader, while under intense small arms fire from the enemy, fought their way through a dense maze of shanties and shacks to reach the critically injured crew members. Sergeant First Class Shughart pulled the pilot and the other crew members from the aircraft, establishing a perimeter which placed him and his fellow sniper in the most vulnerable position. Sergeant First Class Shughart used his long range rifle and side arm to kill an undetermined number of attackers while traveling the perimeter, protecting the downed crew. Sergeant First Class Shughart continued his protective fire until he depleted his ammunition and was fatally wounded. His actions saved the pilot's life. Sergeant First Class Shughart's extraordinary heroism and devotion to duty were in keeping with the highest standards of military service and reflect great credit upon him, his unit and the United States Army.