Medal Of Honor Recipients

"Today is my birthday. I'm twenty-nine. It's November 10, 2004. I'm a staff sergeant with 2nd Battalion, 2nd Infantry Regiment, stationed in Fallujah, Iraq. I'm near the end of a thirty-six-month "all others" tour away from my family, currently deployed to Iraq in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom. Fallujah had been abandoned for six months when we arrived in the late fall of 2004. During that time, four thousand to six thousand enemy insurgents have entrenched, preparing their defenses for our arrival. Bodies are all over the street, festering bacteria. Within a matter of days of our arrival, we've all suffered strep throat, fevers, and diarrhea. It's horrible. We engage in close-quarters combat, within a deadly two-foot radius. The enemy is a mix of highly skilled professionals and amateurs who fight with passion. We never know what we're going to encounter. I'm not bothered by fear. I'm fueled by it."

"Nothing against SEALs and Green Berets and other Special Operations units. They're elite. But there are a lot of just average, normal guys out there that do above-average things. They're a representation of what I believe is the American ethos. It's not necessarily a warrior ethos; it's something that we have in our DNA, and we've had it from our nation's inception. We overcome fear. People ask me, "What do you fear most in the world?" My answer is that I fear fear. I'm afraid of becoming afraid. You have to overcome it in every aspect of your life- whether that's asking that girl out on a date, applying for a job, killing a cockroach in the kitchen. There's something that you're going to have to face."

"I believe that peer pressure is an incredible thing. We always seem to talk about it in negative ways. But sometimes peer pressure gets you through difficult times because it's impossible to take a step backward when everyone else is moving forward. The easiest job in the world is to lead. The most difficult job is to follow. You have to trust that guy out in front. You have to trust their guidance and do what it takes to not be the weakest link in the chain."

"Being empowered by our military service is the greatest gift you can ever receive. Knowing that you've been through worse and got through it is an amazing feeling. And you got through it because it wasn't about me. I wasn't doing it for me. I was doing it for other people. It wasn't ever about me. It was always about other people."

""Into the Hot Zone," the article Mick Ware writes about that night, is Time magazine's cover story less than two weeks later. I earn a Silver Star. But all I hear for ten years is, "Bullshit. I don't believe it. That didn't happen." Then I get a call from the military paper Stars and Stripes. "Hey, you're nominated for the Medal of Honor, did you know that? I hear there's a videotape. Do you have a comment? I'm immediately on the defensive. No one who's served in Iraq has received the US Armed Forces' highest military decoration, except posthumously. "What's on the tape? How did you find out?" The Army's trying to tell me that I'm getting the Medal of Honor, and I'm acting like they're trying to put me in jail. Turns out Ware sold a documentary to HBO. He filmed the entire firefight. Honestly, Ware's anti-war and pro-freedom for the press to tell the truth, but he's got the biggest balls of anyone I've ever met in my life. He was right there the whole time. Because of Michael Ware, everything is corroborated. He was recording the fight the entire time."

"In 2004 in Fallujah, we were involved in so many direct fire engagements. We made eye contact with the enemy. And we lost guys. That was a totally different experience, losing someone that way. You automatically had to address Okay, not only did that just happen, but someone made this happen. That person is still here. House fighting, especially in an urban environment, the sense you most rely on- hearing- is gone. You devolve into an almost animalistic being. Like, I'm smelling this guy. I see a pristine drinking cup on the counter and everything else is covered in dust and grime. A piece of cheese sits on a plate. There's a person here. You become a wolf- just sniffing the air and smelling. Everything stops. Your whole body freezes. You don't breathe. You don't think. All you do is become a single, focused thought: There's a threat here and it needs to be put down."

"I was always told that this wasn't my role. I was too smart. We worked so hard so that you could become a dentist. Well, I thought, you worked so hard so that I could have a choice."

"For now, I look forward to the time when Evan and his younger brother can play together. I see them in the backyard, both clad in boy-sized desert camo, low-crawling through the grass as they ambush neighborhood kids, playing the bad guys, and save the day. Each attack executed to the pinnacle of absolute doctrinal perfection, a perfection that only a well-rehearsed combat element can unleash. Evan cooks off the pine-cone grenade as his brother lays down plunging suppressive fire. Each boy will have his own Bellavia nametape on his chest. Each face camouflaged in tiger stripes. Evan, after all, means "Little warrior." As for my youngest son, Aiden, he carries the middle name of an unsung but still great American hero: Edward Iwan. Aiden Edward Bellavia. May he grow to be half the patriot of his namesake."

"I found that in the worst part of humanity, there's like this... it's just like God's grace just shows up. You actually feel the presence of God in the worst situation possible. And not just Americans, but the enemy. The enemy is doing beautiful things for each other because they're in it together. It doesn't make me want to stop shooting, but it makes me respect the hell out of them, and it changes my life forever, too. Because we're not fighting storm troopers, and we're not fighting a bunch of yahoos. We're fighting people that are into their cause, believe in their cause, and will die for their cause."

"If I don't go in, they'll have won. How many times have we heard that American soldiers rely on firepower and technology because they lack courage? How many times has our enemy said that man-for-man, they can beat us? That's nothing new. The Germans and Japanese said the same thing in World War II. Inside that house, I surrendered my honor and mny manhood. Now I have to take both back, or live with the fact that they are right about me. That is unacceptable. I rant and swear with abandon. Down the street, I see Sergeant Knapp taking care of my men like they are his little brothers. I want to cry I am so proud. I love these kids in a way I will never be able to express. I see their faces. One by one. John Ruiz, Lucas Abernathy, Piotr Sucholas, Alex Stuckert, Victor Santos, Brett Pulley, Tristan Maxfield- they deserve more from me. I stop pacing and let out a deep, rattling sigh. Only Ware remains near me on the street. Everyone else has moved away. Perhaps my display has convinced them I've gone mad. But Ware is still here. The journalist. Our platoon's unofficial intel officer. We stare intently at each other. "Fuck it," I say. "Fuck it," agrees Ware. That settles it. I'm going back in."

"You know things are not right with the world when you share a spiritual moment with a damn journalist. But there it is. Mick Ware and I are standing on the street, digesting the finality of the option we've just chosen. His job is to write the story, not become the story. But he's done just tlhat. He's committed, just as I'm committed. I can see it in his eyes. It is time to do this thing. I half turn and roar, "Alpha Team, on me!""

"Honor. What an overused word. It's an abstraction. Who can define it? All year in Iraq, I've stood with my men. If they had to fill sandbags until three in the morning, I'd be out there in the dirt and mud with them. I would never give an order, then go relax as they worked. My example is all I have as a noncommissioned officer. I take pride in that. That is my honor. I've always told my men not to be afraid in combat. When the bullets start flying, they need to man-up and dish it back tenfold. How many times have I drilled this into them? Perhaps telling them to be unafraid is unrealistic. We're all human. Fear walks with us in every battle. Yet we cannot allow fear to dictate who we are and how we act. That is another essential element of honor."

"The area around us suddenly erupts with grenades and machine-gun fire. Those shells landed near some Marines, who have finally reached our area. It is about time they get on-line with us. Then again, it is a mixed blessing to have them around. They don't take kindly to the 25mm incoming. Their response sends us diving for cover behind our tracks as .50-caliber machine-gun fire stitches across our street. Rodriguez gets on the radio. The Marines are not apologetic. We are told that they will return any and all incoming fire, friendly or otherwise."

"We're fine operating in the dark; we all have night-vision goggles. But the Marines issue them only to their leadership. We own the night; the Marines rent it. We move to another house and prepare to clear it. A star shell bursts overhead, leaving us perfectly backlit for the enemy. The sudden bloom of light washes out our night vision. For a critical moment, we're exposed and blind. And then they send us scrambling as they commence shooting at our movement underneath their flares. Fucking Marines. As much as I love to point out their Semper-Fi-diocy, I am awed by their cohesive fire. When one Marine fires, so does his entire platoon. Their fire superiority is humbling, as I grab earth to avoid its death. Roll-playing for even two minutes as an insurgent is too long against a platoon or company of Marines. No matter what, you gotta respect that."

"Close behind Cantrell comes Staff Sergeant Jim, driving that glorious Abrams. First Platoon has no doubt benefited from their service. That battle's under control. Now they've come to bail us out."

""Fuck the photos! Fuck shaving!" I hear First Sergeant Smith scream to Captain Walter. Sergeant Major Bohn is with them now. He nods his head. Smith is still livid, "All they want is fucking food, sir. Enough of the bullshit. They don't know what these kids have been through." Before Doug Walter arrived to lead A Company, First Sergeant Peter Smith became the acting commander. During a time of great stress, with his company reeling from all the tragic losses, Smith became a steady presence and brought his company to fight only fifteen minutes after losing Sean Sims. General Batiste is not far away, talking with another engineer. Unless he's as deaf as we are, he can't possibly miss what's going on. He ignores it. Wow. This is awesome. First Sergeant Smith is about to snap. Our leadership is fighting for us. But they lose. We are ordered to shave and try to clean up as best we can."

"The details vary from war to war, but no matter the epoch, the camaraderie remains. It's a closeness no civilian will ever really understand."

"A block away, machine guns echo through the night. AK-47s bark. M4s beat a response. The firefight grows."

"I remember working with the sergeant major that day. I had an M4 with all sorts of high-tech shit hanging off its rails. A hundred and fifty meters ahead of us, something piqued the sergeant major's interest. Faulkenberg took off and hobbled a ways, stopped, and fired a single shot. I was so intimidated by him, I didn't dare ask if he hit anything. He looked at me and scrunched his lips up in a pseudo-smile. "Another day in paradise, son." After that fight, Sergeant Major Faulkenberg gave me the same look he gives me now. I had stood with him as the bullets smacked around us, and he respected that. Now, twenty minutes before we roll into the fight of our lives, I can see he trusts me with his soldiers. No words are said. I'd do anything for this man, and he knows it. I'd kill for him, and he knows that, too. I'd follow him anywhere because I trust him to always do the right thing. Few men are leaders. Even fewer are role models. Faulkenberg is both. We will fight like demons for him today."

"In the summer of 2005, I left the Army and returned to civilian life. It was the toughest decision I ever had to make. I loved being an NCO, and I missed it every day. After I returned home, I witnessed another battle raging on the television over Iraq. As other veterans of the Global War on Terror started to trickle home, we shared the feelings of the disenfranchised. We who sacrificed were being ignored by the World War II and Vietnam generations now holding seats of power in our government. I joined Wade Zirkle in forming Vets for Freedom, a nonpartisan political action committee dedicated to supporting our troops in both Iraq and Afghanistan. I want to believe the war is a noble effort, but I fear it may end ignobly."

"The gunman on the roof was a teenaged boy, maybe sixteen years old. I could see him scanning for targets, his back to me. He held an AK-47 without a stock. Was he just a stupid kid trying to protect his family? Was he one of Muqtada al-Sadr's Shiite fanatics? I kept my eyes on him and prayed he'd put the AK down and just get back inside his own house. I didn't want to shoot him. He turned and saw me, and I could see the terror on his sweat-streaked face. I put him in my sights just as he adjusted the AK against his shoulder. I had beaten him on the draw. My own rifle was snug on my shoulder, the sight resting on him. The kid stood no chance. My weapon just needed a flick of the safety and a butterfly's kiss of pressure on the trigger. Please don't do this. You don't need to die. The AK went to full ready-up. Was he aiming at me? I couldn't be sure, but the barrel was trained at my level. Do I shoot? Do I risk not shooting? Was he silently trying to save me from some unseen threat? I didn't know. I had to make a decision. Please forgive me for this. I pulled my trigger. The kid's chin fell to his chest, and a guttural moan escaped his lips. I fired again, missed, then pulled the trigger one more time. The bullet tore his jaw and ear off. Sergeant Hall came up alongside me, saw the AK and the boy, and finished him with four shots to his chest. He slumped against the low rooftop wall. "Thanks, dude. I lost my zero," I said to Hall, explaining that my rifle sights were off-line, though that was the last thing going through my mind."

"I move along the roof to look over toward the northwest. A solitary figure stands in the street. He's cloaked in shadows, but I can see his outline, rigid and tall. He begins to chant. A surge of terror streaks up my spine. His voice is determined and full of passion. This one's a believer. I wonder if you're ready to die. He steps out of the shadows and into the orange dawn's light. His stride is measured and proud. He repeats his chant. His right arm holds a belt-fed machine gun. The ammunition is wound around his left arm, Rambo-style. He curls his fingers and beckons us to bring it on. We stare at him, stunned. He takes no cover. He seeks no protection. He strides through the middle of the street, his machine gun ready. He acts as if it weighs nothing. What is this man doing? He is begging to be shot. What sort of man throws his life away ike this? Up until now, I've had little but contempt for our enemy. Now as I watch this man, I have to respect him. He is a warrior, a man who believes that his cause has value and is worth his life. We have that much in common. But still he must die."

"It was a bittersweet thought. There are never happy endings in the Army. There is no closure, not with friends or enemies."

"I don't have the nightmares that I read other veterans are having. None of my old friends do either. I don't dream about seven-foot insurgents chasing me down Iraqi streets. And yet I think about Iraq almost every day of my life. Almost every dream I have is about Iraq, but none of them are bad. There will constantly be regret, sorrow for those we lost, but never nightmares. I will always hate war, but will be forever proud of mine."

"When the wind blows just right sometimes I close my eyes and still envision a heat-scorched stretch of highway. There is a watchtower burning in the distance. It is Highway South Five, the checkpoint we couldn't save from destruction back in Muqdadiyah almost three years ago. My platoon stands on both sides of the road. Bullets are heard in the distance, but there isn't any danger. Each soldier I pass stares at me for what seems like an eternity. Their faces are covered in sweat and soot. They just stare at me expressionless and move to the side as I pass. Fitss spits dip juice onto the road. Captain Sean Sims and Doug Walter look up at me from their map. Sergeant Major fixes his boot lace. And Lieutenant Ed Iwan nods at me. As the smoke from the burning checkpoint billows up from behind, the images from my past get smaller and smaller. Until, finally, all is open road. I have permission to move on."

"For extraordinary heroism, distinguished service, and conspicuous gallantry above and beyond the call of duty as commander of Motor Torpedo Boat Squadron 3, in Philippine waters during the period from 7 December 1941 to 10 April 1942. The remarkable achievement of Lt. Comdr. Bulkeley's command in damaging or destroying a notable number of Japanese enemy planes, surface combatant and merchant ships, and in dispersing landing parties and land-based enemy forces during the four months and eight days of operation without benefit of repairs, overhaul, or maintenance facilities for his squadron, is believed to be without precedence in this type of warfare. His dynamic forcefulness and daring in offensive action, his brilliantly planned and skillfully executed attacks, supplemented by a unique resourcefullness and ingenuity, characterize him as an outstanding leader of men and a gallant and intrepid seaman. These qualities coupled with a complete disregard for his own personal safety reflect great credit upon him and the Naval Service."

"What else could I do? You engage, you fight, you win. That is the reputation of our Navy, then and in the future."

"I don't know what a hero is. This business of the captain taking all the credit, ordering someone else and so forth -- that's not it. The men who do the actual fighting, man the guns, they're the guys that really win the war."

"PT boats are very, very, in many ways, very fine to keep at sea at long times and do varied jobs. Well, since D-day, my boats have been out here in the line from 10 to 14 days at a time. We often run out of food, we have trouble with the weather, but the boys are taking it fine. I think we've done the hardest thing of all, kept on our toes for whatever might have happened."

"As far as the Breakout is that...Breakout, itself is concerned, it was dark, and it was a rather rainy, misty night. We went at high speed, ran through the mine fields, which we knew like the palm of our hands...no problem at all."

"When you run into the enemy, you’ve got to attack, no question about it."

"The president of the United States, in the name of the congress, takes pleasure in presenting the Medal of Honor to Lance Corporal William "Kyle" Carpenter, United States Marine Corps, For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty while serving as an Automatic Rifleman with Company F, 2d Battalion, 9th Marines, Regimental Combat Team 1, 1st Marine Division (Forward), 1 Marine Expeditionary Force (Forward), in Helmand Province, Afghanistan in support of Operation Enduring Freedom on 21 November 2010. Lance Corporal Carpenter was a member of a platoon-sized coalition force, comprised of two reinforced Marine squads partnered with an Afghan National Army squad. The platoon had established Patrol Base Dakota two days earlier in a small village in the Marjah District in order to disrupt enemy activity and provide security for the local Afghan population. Lance Corporal Carpenter and a fellow Marine were manning a rooftop security position on the perimeter of Patrol Base Dakota when the enemy initiated a daylight attack with hand grenades, one of which landed inside their sandbagged position. Without hesitation, and with complete disregard for his own safety, Lance Corporal Carpenter moved toward the grenade in an attempt to shield his fellow Marine from the deadly blast. When the grenade detonated, his body absorbed the brunt of the blast, severely wounding him, but saving the life of his fellow Marine. By his undaunted courage, bold fighting spirit, and unwavering devotion to duty in the face of almost certain death, Lance Corporal Carpenter reflected great credit upon himself and upheld the highest traditions of the Marine Corps and the United States Naval Service."

"Kyle Carpenter has shown true courage and strength in the face of extraordinary challenges. He never lost his faith or his will to serve his fellow brothers and sisters. His memoirs inspires us and makes all Americans proud."

"Kyle Carpenter's memoir of gallantry beyond the call of duty provides a vital reminder that grit and valor remain American hallmarks. A compelling account of a life well-lived against the toughest odds, one that will inspire and build confidence in every reader."

"I think Kyle Carpenter is one of the greatest living Americans, and I'm honored to know him. His words, though soft-spoken, are thunderous to the spirit. The only thing more powerful than his story is his message. He is an ambassador of selflessness, reminding us that when we take care of each other, we are extraordinary no matter how ordinary we think we are. This book is important. After I read it I wanted to be better. Please share it with the people you love."

"Stay motivated. It gets old. It gets predictable. It becomes cliché. But in the end, it's good advice. And sometimes, you don't need platitudes or well-wishes or rousing speeches or photo ops, you just need to remember to take the step right in front of you and keep pushing forward, come what may. Honors and rewards are great, but it can't sustain you- you have to keep plugging away on the awful days as well as the great ones. You have to keep trying. You have to keep hanging on, even when there doesn't seem to be any reason to stick to it. You have to find that reason within yourself. You have to stay motivated."

"I don't remember much about the incident and I definitely don't remember what I was thinking about in the moment, but, again, that's the amazing thing about people: You never know how you're going to step up, or when."

"How is one not affected witnessing that degree of evil? You remind yourself why you were over there in the first place- to put a stop to the Taliban and their torture and oppression of their own people. You remind yourself that, if you were able to weaken their stronghold or just give hope to those innocent people, even in the smallest of ways, so that one day they might taste the freedom of safety, then you made a difference. That helps you stay focused. That helps you stay motivated. Life looks different on the other side of a tragedy. The things you once valued have changed. The things you once believed in are scrambled. The things you focused on from day to day are different now. You are still you, but you aren't exactly the same and you never will be again."

"It is incredible to think about the places freedom can take you."

"There was a local Afghan boy, about twelve, who loved the Marines and would always salute us when we would walk out of our patrol base on foot. He and his eight-year-old brother even made a game of trying to snatch water bottles and goodies from the "dump pouches" on the back of our SAPI (small arms protective insert) plates, which were designed to carry empty magazines from firefights but doubled as snack, candy, and water bottle carriers. The two boys got to be friends with us, and through months of talking and playing with us would sometimes tell us where well-hidden IEDs were buried. Our EOD (explosive ordinance disposal) guys made a good show of trying to make it appear that their discoveries were accidental before the explosives were defused, but in Taliban strongholds, eyes are always watching. One night, about two weeks after I was evacuated, a grenade was thrown over the wall of our compound and detonated at exactly the spot where my now-empty bunk sat. No one was injured, but it obviously shook everyone up a bit. A few nights later, that same boy who used to salute us showed up at our patrol base in the middle of the night to tell us he threw that grenade. He was sobbing and begging the Marines to forgive him and not to kill him. The Taliban had caught on that he was friendly with us and that fewer IEDs were being detonated. They suspected he was the cause, so they beat him senseless- but they didn't kill him. Instead, for his final punishment, they dragged him to the wall of our compound, placed a grenade in his hand, and pulled the pin. A twelve-year-old child was forced to kill or be killed. That was just one story of countless others we heard- stories of violence, ritual stoning of women, pushing people off buildings for being gay. And children forced to become weapons of war."

"The more I fought for my future instead of against my past, the more I realized that there wasn't just life for me on the other side of this- there was life for me in the middle of it. My life wasn't going to start again after my recovery, because, truthfully, my recovery is not something that will ever be complete or ever be over. But by letting go of a world where I wasn't injured, I could focus on the life I had been given- a second chance that not everyone is lucky enough to get."

"I'm proud of what I did, but at the same time, I'm surprised by it. My guess is that you have surprised yourself, too- that there have been times when you didn't put much forethought into the moment but, looking back, you realize how boldly you acted. It may have been the action of a moment or it could have been the strength and persistence of weathering a particularly difficult season in your life. As you reflect on it now, you are probably surprised at what you were capable of doing. The fallout of that time for you might not be as readily obvious as mine was, but the idea is the same: You did what you had to do and you made your world- our world- a little bit better. That's courage. That's heroism. That's honor. Thank you for your service."

"As we sat together in that kitchen, with the overhead lights reflecting back against the darkness outside, I had a realization: I could spend my life sitting at that counter, or I could get up and live. I chose to get up and live."

"For weeks afterward, I could wake up wondering, Now what? Every morning started with a question for which I didn't have an answer, except to do whatever the next thing was that day. I developed a daily mantra, and I still say something similar to myself each morning: "I don't know what I want to do or how I'm going to do it or where I might end up, but as long as I work hard, try to do the right thing, try to be a good person, and try to help people- I can't go wrong doing that.""

"The President of the United States of America takes pleasure in presenting the Navy Distinguished Service Medal to General Alexander Archer Vandegrift (MCSN: 0-1009), United States Marine Corps, for exceptionally meritorious service to the Government of the United States in a duty of great responsibility as Commandant of the United States Marine Corps from 1 January 1944, to 30 June 1946. General Vandegrift exercised extraordinary foresight, initiative and judgment in directing the policies and organization of the Corps, and in continuing without interruption the broad program of expansion and preparation for battle of this specialized branch of our military service. Analyzing the particularized problems incident to Marine Corps participation in large scale joint operations, he successfully carried out a pre-established program for the procurement and training of personnel, determined the design, types and amounts of combat equipment required by his assault and occupation troops to break the resistance of a determined and deeply entrenched enemy wherever encountered, and effected expedient methods of distribution which made possible the steady flow of men and materials in support of the continued offensive operations of his fighting forces in widespread areas. A leader of uncompromising integrity and indefatigable energies, General Vandegrift upheld and quickened the incomparable esprit de corps of his command and developed a level of combat efficiency to the end that the enemy was overwhelmed by the Marines wherever met. By his achievements as Commandant of the United States Marine Corps, General Vandegrift rendered service of inestimable value to the United States Navy and to his country. His unfaltering devotion to the honor of the Corps and to the fulfillment of tremendous responsibilities throughout this critical period in the history of the Nation reflects the highest credit upon himself and upon the United States Naval Service."

"The President of the United States of America takes pleasure in presenting a Gold Star in lieu of a Second Award of the Navy Distinguished Service Medal to General Alexander Archer Vandegrift (MCSN: 0-1009), United States Marine Corps, for exceptionally meritorious service to the Government of the United States in a duty of great responsibility as Commandant of the United States Marine Corps from 1 July 1946 to 31 December 1947. Completing nearly forty years of service on 31 December 1947, General Vandegrift has discharged with professional skill, vision and forcefulness the broad policies of the Marine Corps as well as the urgent and immediate programs involved in returning a superbly coordinated fighting force to a peacetime organization which, despite demobilization and reorganization requirements, has maintained the readiness to perform whatever tasks might be assigned in the interests of national security. By his inspiring leadership in peace as in war, General Vandegrift has rendered distinguished service to his country and to the Naval Service and has brought honor to the United States Marine Corps."

"For exceptionally meritorious service to the government in a duty of great responsibility as Commander of all ground troops engaged in the attack on the Solomon Islands on August seventh, nineteen hundred and forty two. He, in spite of much enemy opposition, led his command with great courage and superb determination to the end that all objectives were captured and opposing enemy forces destroyed. His conduct throughout was in keeping with the highest traditions of the naval service."

"On 1 January 1944, as a lieutenant general, he was sworn in as the 18th Commandant of the Marine Corps. On 4 April 1945, he was appointed general, with date of rank from 21 March 1945, the first Marine officer on active duty to attain four-star rank. For outstanding service as Commandant of the Marine Corps from 1 January 1944 to 30 June 1946, Gen Vandergrift was awarded the Distinguished Service Medal. He left active service on 31 December 1947 and was placed on the retired list 1 April 1949. General Vandegrift died 8 May 1973 at the National Naval Medical Center, Bethesda, Maryland, after a long illness. He was 86. His interment was 10 May 1973 at Arlington National Cemetery."

"General Vandegrift held an honorary degree of Doctor of Military Science from Pennsylvania Military College, and honorary degrees of Doctor of Law from Harvard, Colgate, Brown, Columbia, and Maryland Universities and John Marshall College. In addition to the Medal of Honor, Navy Cross, and Distinguished Service Medal, his decorations and medals included: the Presidential Unit Citation with one bronze star; Navy Unit Commendation with one bronze star; Expeditionary Medal with three bronze stars; Nicaraguan Campaign Medal; Mexican Service Medal; Haitian Campaign Medal with one star; World War I Victory Medal with West Indies Clasp and one star; Yangtze Service Medal; American Defense Service Medal; Asiatic-Pacific Campaign Medal with four bronze stars; American Campaign Medal; and the World War II Victory Medal. He received the following foreign decorations: Haitian Distinguished Service Medal; Medaille Militaire with one silver star; Honorary Knight Commander, Military Division of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire; Companion (Honorary) of the Military Division of the Most Honorable Order of the Bath; Cruz de Aviacion de Primera Clase, Peruvian Government; Abdon Calderon of the 1st Class; Knights Grand Cross in the Order of the Orange-Nassau with Swords; the Order of Pao-Tine (Precious Tripod) with Special Clasp; and the Legion of Honor (Grand Officer)."

"Once a Marine should become required reading for the young men of our country. It is a success story which highlights the fact that there is still room at the top for men of courage, determination and the average educational advantages available to all our young people. General Vandegrift, perhaps more than any other Marine, added luster and glory to our elite Corps that had already won enviable battle honors during its long history of military achievement. His long and successful struggle to hold Guadalcanal against seemingly overwhelming odds will live long in military history. Many veterans of the Marine Corps and of the sister services who participated or were associated in the Guadalcanal episode of World War II will relive their experiences in reading Once a Marine. And this includes yours truly who, perforce, had to witness this struggle from afar."