Medal Of Honor Recipients

"I was conscientious and I like to call myself a conscientious cooperator instead of objector because we believe in serving our country in every way possible, same as anyone else. Only thing we didn't want to do is take life, like I mentioned before. God gave life, Christ is our example, I want to be him."

"I sincerely believe that all my men prayed with me before. At this same time cause there is no such thing as infidel when you're facing death. I know cause I've had some of the men come to me and ask, pray for me, even though they gave me a hard time in times past. When I finished praying, I went up, push up, I pushed over against these Japanese positions. Got pinned down, we couldn't move. While we were pinned down and couldn't move A company was over to our left and they was supposed to come over to help us, meet us to try and knock these Japanese positions."

"Blood had run down into the fella's face and eyes. He was laying there just groaning and calling for a medic. I took water from my canteen, got some bandage, and I washed his face. And when that blood was washed from his eyes, his eyes came open. Man, he just lit up. He says, "I thought I was blind." And if I hadn't got anything more out of the war than that smile he gave me, I'd have been well repaid."

"I was praying the whole time. I just kept praying, "Lord, please help me get one more." When I got this, I said, "Lord, please help me get one more.""

"I was working in Newport News, Virginia, in a shipyard in defense work. I could have been deferred. In fact, my boss even offered to defer me, but I was in good health and I felt like it would be an honor to serve God and country. So, I didn't want to be known as a 4-F so I would rather go in."

"I didn't believe in taking a life. I felt like God gave life, it wasn't for me to take. When I was growing up, I was the [unclear] child. My mother had a picture of the Ten Commandments illustrated and showed a picture of Cain, and Cain killed his brother Abel and I wondered how in the world could a brother do such a thing. That had some impression."

"I think all of us understood the mission, that SAC certainly had priority over everything in all of our minds. I had served enough places and positions in those years to see that. SAC had the mission, really, to deter. We didn’t want war; we wanted to deter war, and the atomic force was going to deter the war."

"General LeMay asked, “What’s wrong with SAC?” I replied, “I won’t tell you. I have three young officers here with me who told you, and they mentioned cross-training.” We were so busy fighting our headquarters and trying to get the training that we didn’t have time to do anything else."

"When we demobilized the Air Force, I was in personnel and we were making plans for an orderly demobilization. I remember being over at the railroad station trying to figure out how many troops could be carried by the railways from San Francisco to various parts of the country as the men came home from the Pacific. General Muir Fairchild was sitting there. “What if the people demand to get out,” he asked? We said, “Well, gee, the plan won’t work.” The men did demand to get out immediately, and I let them out. All of this helps explain the condition of the Air Force at the time. Another example: the records of my wartime group were left on the floor up at Rapid City, South Dakota. Some of them were gathered up and sent to the Pentagon when I was there; but in general, there was no one left even to keep the records of the units from World War II. We started from nothing, from nothing, to rebuild the Air Force. I think this helps explain this lack of readiness all the way through."

"Those Schweinfurt missions were unbelievable. I know that I was fortunate enough to receive the Medal of Honor for fifteen minutes of fighting, over Ploesti, and they fought for about five hours over Schweinfurt. I don’t remember anyone getting a Medal of Honor out of that. I think I would rather do five Ploesti raids than one Schweinfurt."

"We knew if we had airplanes that could go someplace, we could take them there and hopefully bring them back. I think that was understood by all of us, and that the airplanes could bomb."

"The crews wanted to look up to their commanders. Good Lord, their lives depended on their commander! I never saw crews that didn’t admire their commander unless he was a very poor stick."

"Personally, I don’t think we had a sense of mission early in the 1930s. The world had been made safe for democracy not too long before, and there seemed no chance of a war. We weren’t conscious of Hitler. I happened to be in the Philippines during those times, and we had a bomb squadron, a fighter squadron, an observation squadron, and a pursuit squadron over there. We flew around the islands and did our training because that’s what you did in peacetime. I know that we didn’t have a sense of purpose at that time. We didn’t see anything on the horizon; we weren’t worried about anything. We were just worried about getting enough airplanes to fly, and we were worried about getting our flying done."

"To go back to the issue of the effectiveness of the strategic campaign, I must say that there are only certain things you can do with airplanes. You don’t have to be a genius to know that if you knock out an enemy’s oil, he can’t fly."

"I never gave a thought to it being atomic warfare only. I was just training the crews, getting them combat capable to do whatever they needed to do. I don’t think we thought of ourselves as world destroyers or world savers or anything. We were given a job to do. I personally believe in disciplining units. I always believed that non-disciplined units were lousy; they never did a good job anywhere. I don’t mean to emphasize strict discipline of the martinet type, but expecting people to do things they are supposed to do, when they are supposed to do them."

"Lieutenant General Robert F. Foley graduated in 1963 from the U.S. Military Academy. He was a company commander during the War in Vietnam, a battalion and brigade commander with the 3rd Infantry Division in Germany, assistant division commander, 2nd Infantry Division in Korea, West Point's commandant of cadets, and commanding general, Fifth U.S. Army. His awards include the Medal of Honor, the Farleigh-Dickinson University Pinnacle Award, and the U.S. Military Academy Distinguished Graduate Award. General Foley and his wife, Julie, reside in Alexandria, VA and have two sons, a daughter and seven grandchildren."

"On the other hand, there have been incidents in the past where Medal of Honor recipients expected special treatment. On one occasion, I received a phone call from the Fort Benning garrison commander requesting my advice about a newly arrived Medal of Honor recipient who complained that he was not being saluted as he wore his award around post and wanted to know when his welcome parade would be scheduled. I took very little time to straighten this soldier out. I see no evidence of expectations from today's recipients, but I have witnessed disdain from a few leaders with preconceived notions about the self-aggrandizing nature of Medal of Honor recipients. For example, one time a general officer and senior rater of my officer efficiency report said to me, "The blue ribbon you wear is an albatross around your neck." I am convinced that I have earned respect from others not due to past awards but because of who I am and the leadership attributes I possess that can help accomplish the mission and make a difference in leading soldiers."

"I have been asked if the Medal of Honor helped me advance throughout my career. When U.S. Army centralized selection boards meet to consider a soldier's qualifications for schools, commands, and promotion, awards and decorations are certainly considered. My philosophy has been straightforward- I paid little attention to where my officers went to college or what awards they have received in the past. Instead, I focused on what they could do today, tomorrow, and the next day in leading their soldiers and enhancing unit readiness. I am convinced that my superiors have, for the most part, exercised a similar outlook."

"But a positive command environment doesn't just magically show up. It is created by the people in the organization reaching out to their fellow soldiers or employees who pursue excellence in all that they do every day. In the final analysis, leaders instill the values, courtesies, consideration, and standards that establish and sustain a positive command climate. Soldiers and civilian employees take pride in the camaraderie of a professional, upbeat organization in which they can feel good about who they are, where they are, and where they are headed in life."

"The most dangerous threat in combat is not the enemy- it's complacency. Stop everything when you hear the terms "routine mission" or "all is going well." Continuous threat analysis is vital. A patrol that leaves at the same time at night, using the same path, and returns on the same route at the same time subjects the patrol and the parent unit to ambush and infiltration. The same is true for commercial enterprises that are competing in the marketplace every day- embracing new ideas and securing proprietary technology is key to corporate longevity."

"Before my introduction, the master of ceremonies asked all graduates to stand. The colonel then told all those who graduated in the top 10 percent of their class to be seated- expecting me to sit. But I remained standing. He then asked all who graduated in the top 25 percent and then top 50 percent of their class to be seated. I continued to stand. After going to the top 75 percent of the class, I was the only one left standing. Finding himself in an awkward position the colonel decided that a protocol along the lines of discipline instead of academics would be more appropriate for the commandant of cadets. He again directed the graduates to stand and asked all who had never walked the area to take a seat. (Walking the area was punishment for misconduct violations and conducted in dress gray uniform with rifle in front of the central area guard room.) The great majority of the graduates sat down- but not me. He then went to less than 25 hours, fully expecting me to sit, but I remained on my feet. Visibly sweating, he then decided to clear up the predicament by jumping to less than 75 hours on the area. I was the only one in the banquet hall left standing. With no credibility left as the commandant of cadets, I was introduced to a standing ovation."

"For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity in action at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty. Capt. Foley's company was ordered to extricate another company of the battalion. Moving through the dense jungle to aid the besieged unit, Company A encountered a strong enemy force occupying well-concealed, defensive positions, and the company's leading element quickly sustained several casualties. Capt. Foley immediately ran forward to the scene of the most intense action to direct the company's efforts. Deploying one platoon on the flank, he led the other two platoons in an attack on the enemy in the face of intense fire. During this action both radio operators accompanying him were wounded. At grave risk to himself, he defied the enemy's murderous fire and helped the wounded operators to a position where they could receive medical care. As he moved forward again one of his machine-gun crews was wounded. Seizing the weapon, he charged forward firing the machine gun, shouting orders, and rallying his men, thus maintaining the momentum of the attack. Under increasingly heavy enemy fire he ordered his assistant to take cover and, alone, Capt. Foley continued to advance firing the machine gun until the wounded had been evacuated and the attack in this area could be resumed. When movement on the other flank was halted by the enemy's fanatical defense, Capt. Foley moved to personally direct this critical phase of the battle. Leading the renewed effort he was blown off his feet and wounded by an enemy grenade. Despite his painful wounds he refused medical aid and persevered in the forefront of the attack on the enemy redoubt. He led the assault on several enemy gun emplacements and, singlehandedly, destroyed three such positions. His outstanding personal leadership under intense enemy fire during the fierce battle which lasted for several hours inspired his men to heroic efforts and was instrumental in the ultimate success of the operation. Capt. Foley's magnificent courage, selfless concern for his men, and professional skill reflect the utmost credit upon himself and the U.S. Army."

"Frankly, I don't believe in luck. Everything happens for some purpose. To begin with, I'm alive. I shouldn't be; I should have been dead many times over. No, I can't walk too well, I'm missing one lung, and I lock up like an old rusty gate if I sit too long, but I am alive. Most of my buddies aren't; almost all of them are gone. Over fifty-eight thousand other guys that I didn't know died with them, but I'm alive, and I'm here, and I owe them the telling of this story. Every one of them had his own story. Maybe he just stepped off a plane one day and got it from a misplaced mortar round. Maybe he was walking back from the latrine when a sniper got him. Maybe he's a bigger "hero" than I'm supposed to be, but few are alive to tell the tale. Every one of those guys sacrificed his life, or his limbs, or his humanity, or his youth, or his mind, and I'm alive to tell about it. Up until now, nobody has really cared too much about hearing our side of it, our stories. Maybe it's different now. But I can't tell everybody's story. I can only tell mine. This is not a story about war. It's a story about freedom and its cost."

"When President Reagan placed the Congressional Medal of Honor around my neck, it all came racing back to me. The blood flooding the floor of the helicopter and gushing out of the doors as we banked and ran from that Cambodian jungle. The sights and sounds of my six hours in hell. The agony of the wounded and dying kept repetitively flashing through my mind while I watched the honor guard and heard the president, my commander-in-chief, read the details of the award. I was not ashamed of the tears that blinded my eyes."

"Korea was becoming somewhat civilized, at least for the commissioned officers stationed there. An officers' club had been established near the artillery company's camp, and a three-quarter-ton truck was en route to it carrying a supply of liquor. The truck broke down, and foolishly the driver decided to go for help. I was told that a GI named Gotch-Eye Ireland happened on that truck while the driver was away from it, examined it, and discovered its contents. Gotch-Eye hurried back to his battery, then went to the motor pool to obtain a three-quarter-ton vehicle and some help in order that he might "liberate" that whiskey. The people in the motor pool, of course, had to be involved, for the motor pool sergeant had to sign off on the truck. The soldiers "liberated" the bourbon, scotch, gin, and vodka, leaving sissy liquor such as creme de menthe and sherry for the officers. They hid the truck, and when night fell they removed the bottles from it and took them into the hills. At daylight, MPs conducted a tent-to-tent search but found no trace of the liquor. The captain who commanded the battery called a meeting of all the noncoms. "I am upset," he said, "but I will be even more upset if I do not have periodically in my tent a bottle of bourbon. If I do not, I will take further action. I will see that another search is conducted and that the perpetrators of this incident are court-martialed." Needless to say, the captain got his bourbon. Apparently, he thought as the dogfaces, who could only get three-two beer, did- that the liquor would be wasted on some of the shavetail second lieutenants who drank at the officers' club. The enlisted men used to say of the second lieutenants that their motto was, "We're gentlemen because we're officers." The GI's response was, "Yeah, but it took an Act of Congress to make you one.""

"Serving in Korea was not all misery for me. I felt more a part of something than I ever had in my life. I was a U.S. soldier. Maybe I was a little shorter, or a little darker, or had a different-sounding name from some, but to the other troops I was just one of them. A poor dogface freezing his butt off, too. It did me good. The Army had always separated me a little bit as a Hispanic, and I had always separated myself, too. Now they didn't have a choice and neither did I."

"The Koreans treated us all the same, too. A lot of them liked us, or tried to. Most Koreans really appreciated the American blood that was spilled on their soil to help maintain their freedom. Some didn't. To some few, a distinct minority, we were just another group of invaders, like the Japanese in the last war and the Chinese before them. They could hardly be blamed for feeling that way after living for so many years with foreigners in their land. Getting to know the Koreans helped me to begin to develop an understanding about the cost of freedom. Not all of the Koreans were Slicky Boys. The Korean soldiers I worked with were excellent. The ROK Army soldiers and Marines were much less well equipped, fed, and paid than we were, but they were committed to doing what they could to preserve their five-thousand-year-old culture. They had an intense hatred for communism that I would see again when some of them fought in Vietnam."

"By the time he returned to base camp, Benavidez was convinced he was dying. “My eyes were blinded. My jaws were broken, I had over thirty-seven puncture wounds. My intestines were exposed,” Benavidez wrote in his book with John Craig, Medal of Honor: One Man’s Journey From Poverty and Prejudice. For his actions on May 2, Benavidez received the Distinguished Service Cross. Following a year of recovery, Benavidez returned to active duty. He retired as a master sergeant with a total disability in 1976 and returned to Texas. After years of bureaucratic machinations to gather pertinent information surrounding Benavidez’s heroic actions in the war, President Ronald Reagan presented Benavidez with the Medal of Honor on Feb. 24, 1981. Benavidez died in 1998 and is buried at Fort Sam Houston National Cemetery in San Antonio. Because the Medal of Honor is presented “in the name of the Congress of the United States,” it is frequently called the Congressional Medal of Honor. The terms are used interchangeably, but regardless of designation, the Medal of Honor remains the most prestigious and treasured of all decorations in the armed services. Doss, Inouye and Benavidez are typical of the Medal of Honor recipients who have received the coveted award on behalf of their fallen comrades. May their shadows loom large and serve as a beacon to every soldier who wears the uniform of the U.S. Army."

"From 1959 to 1965, Benavidez served with the 82nd Airborne Division, and in 1965, he deployed to the Republic of Vietnam as an adviser to a South Vietnamese infantry unit. His tenure as an adviser was short-lived after he stepped on a land mine. Evacuated to the U.S., Benavidez was told he would never walk again. Benavidez proved the doctors wrong, undertaking a severe physical regimen and cramming 18 months of healing and therapy into six months. By 1966, he volunteered for Special Forces and received the coveted Green Beret the following year. In January 1968, Benavidez received orders to deploy to South Vietnam for his second tour. On May 2, 1968, a 12-man Special Forces reconnaissance team was inserted by helicopters into a dense jungle to gather intelligence about confirmed large-scale enemy activity. Under heavy enemy fire, the team requested extraction. Three helicopters attempted to extract the team and were all shot down. Benavidez, who was monitoring the operation by radio, voluntarily boarded another aircraft to assist in another extraction attempt. Unable to land at the designated pickup zone, he jumped from his aircraft and ran approximately 75 yards under withering small-arms fire to the crippled team. Despite multiple wounds in the abdomen and grenade fragments in his back, he repositioned the team members and directed their fire to facilitate the landing of an extraction aircraft. Despite his wounds, Benavidez gathered sensitive documents from the downed aircraft. Directing aerial and artillery fire against the enemy, Benavidez refused extraction until every surviving team member was safely aboard an aircraft."

"February 24, 1981, was a special day in the life of Master Sergeant Roy Benavidez. On that day, the nation watched proudly as this brave soldier was awarded the Medal of Honor by President Ronald Reagan, a recognition given only to very special service members who have displayed courage well beyond that expected of our citizens. I find Roy's life one with which I can empathize and one that should make all Americans proud of the opportunities America offers to those strong enough to seize the chance. Roy's is a classic study of success in America- born poor in South Texas, an orphan harassed for his Mexican-Indian ancestry. As a boy, Roy was helped by his relatives and his community. As a young man, he found the U.S. Army the perfect place to exhibit his burning desire to contribute to the country he loved despite his difficult beginning. Sent to Vietnam as an adviser, he became known as "Tango Mike/Mike," a radio call sign his fellow soldiers made up for "That mean Mexican." He was mean in the best sense: tough and burning to fight America's and his unit's designated enemies. Roy soon earned a reputation for courage that bordered on recklessness, and he was wounded so badly that army doctors said he would be paralyzed for life. They didn't reckon with Tango Mike/Mike."

"I know the content of my heart. I am a good soldier. I go where I am ordered. That kind of loyalty, at least, is noble and vital for the preservation of freedom. When I am asked if it is worth it to lose a loved one in military service I answer "Yes." Our duty as survivors is to pass on the pride in the noble service made by our child, parent, spouse, or buddy. The reason that he or she served, the reason that all American men and women serve, is best expressed in that portion of the West Point motto: "Duty, Honor, Country.""

"The name Tango Mike/Mike had become synonymous with my given name, Roy P. Benavidez. Apparently it was much easier to pronounce and remember than the name Benavidez. The name definitely had become my alter ego. Our alphabetical code names, which we called our Alpha names, were used exclusively on all radio transmissions to confuse the enemy who were monitoring us. If you were captured the enemy wouldn't know that Benavidez, R.P., was also Tango Mike/Mike."

"Like Doss and Inouye, Staff Sgt. Roy Benavidez embarked on a journey from poverty and prejudice to receive the highest accolades of a grateful nation. Born on Aug. 5, 1935, near Cuero, Texas, Benavidez’s given name at birth was Raul Perez Benavidez. He changed “Raul” to “Roy” when he joined the Army in 1955. The son of a Mexican farmer and a Yaqui Indian mother, Benavidez was a high school dropout and a troubled youth until he joined the Texas National Guard in 1952. Seven years later and after multiple overseas tours, Benavidez graduated from Airborne School at Fort Bragg, North Carolina. The school transformed Benavidez’s life. In his words, “Until I became Airborne, I had often allowed my temper and my insecurities to control the direction of my life.”"

"After months of grueling and determined rehabilitation, Roy Benavidez not only could walk, but qualified for the elite Army Special Forces- the Green Berets. He was soon back in action in Southeast Asia, on the Vietnam-Cambodian border. It was here that he rose to the challenge that made him a respected member of a very special group of heroes. On the morning of May 2, 1968, twelve soldiers from his unit became trapped during a special reconnaissance mission in Cambodia that had been authorized under special presidential orders. This time, the troops were surrounded by a North Vietnamese regiment. Three helicopters tried to get them out but were met with such heavy fire that they were unable to land. It appeared we would lose those brave soldiers- Roy's friends. Guess who volunteered to climb into a helicopter to go help them? Tango Mike/Mike was on the way. The rest is American history. Sergeant Benavidez and a small band of heroes came to the rescue. Despite numerous wounds- he was shot five times, riddled with shrapnel, and bayoneted and clubbed during hand-to-hand combat- Roy returned again and again to lead the wounded survivors to the rescue chopper and retrieve the bodies of his dead comrades. In a final act of patriotism, he pushed his bullet-ridden body back to the ambushed soldiers' highly classified documents and electronic gear and destroyed them to keep them out of enemy hands. Only then did he allow himself to be pulled into the helicopter."

"Our men developed strong compassion for the plight of these proud, independent people. The desire to be free from oppression seemed to extend to the last man, woman, and child. The greatest tragedy of war could be seen in the children, and they touched everyone. We were soldiers, but we were human beings, too. Our toughest, meanest sergeant often visited the kids in the orphanages to take them gifts and to clown around with them. If a word was ever said to him about this contrast in his behavior, he would give a look so mean and threatening as to make anyone shut up fast. Some guys adopted kids and sent them home, and some married Korean women who had borne their children. Some claimed their Korean children and had them, shipped back to the States when their tour ended. The children left behind by American soldiers were a horrible reminder of the price paid for occupying foreign lands. Many soldiers never considered the consequences of fathering these children, who were left to a life of despair. They were abandoned by their fathers and scorned by the people of their mothers' culture. I had never been an orphan in the sense that those kids were."

"I sort of adopted a young orphan by the name of Kim. I have him little assignments and paid him with scrip and food. Once when we had an inspection coming up, I was sent with a squad to police the area and get rid of all the trash. By the time we were done we had a couple of truck loads of junk, and we hauled it back to the big garbage pit a few klicks down the road. We dumped it, then sent Kim out with a five-gallon can of gasoline to set it on fire. Maybe my instructions to Kim got lost in translation. What I told him to do was to sprinkle a little here and a little there, not to throw it all on one spot. The next we saw he was on the opposite side of the pit from us, and he was lighting a match. He must have dumped the whole can in one place because when he dropped that match, it looked like he'd been consumed by the fires of hell. We went running toward the plume of fire and smoke and all I could hear was Kim yelling, "Benavito, Benavito." (He couldn't pronounce my name very well.) We ran to him and put out the flames by rolling him on the ground. When we could examine him we saw that he had lost his hair and eyebrows, most of his clothes, and was completely black from the soot. That boy was a pure mess, but fortunately, he wasn't seriously hurt."

"Okay, I thought, we're stateside, I'll try to look like it. I started looking for the post barbershop. Man, I couldn't even get near it. Some guy by the name of Elvis Presley had just been drafted, and he was at the barbershop getting all his hair chopped off. There were more people and cameras than I had ever seen in my life. None of us knew much about this Presley kid. When we asked, someone told us that he was some kind of blues or rock-and-roll singer. From the look of the crowd around the barbershop, I thought the President of the United States was inside."

"The U.S. military does not just pin Medals of Honor on its heroes. Their actions have to be written up, documented, and passed through an appropriately difficult and skeptical review process. Because of the sensitive nature of the Green Berets' reconnaissance mission in Cambodia, Roy's medal did not come quickly, and as a result he became the last warrior of the Vietnam era to receive this great honor. That gave many of us the opportunity to enjoy an especially memorable day when President Reagan hung the medal around the neck of this great Mexican-Indian-American hero. As a fellow Texan, I have known about and admired Roy's courage and his fulfillment of the American dream. I was delighted to be asked to write the foreword for his inspirational, truly American story. It is one he tells to groups around the country- to veterans, to the military, and especially to future Medal of Honor recipients in the ranks of the less fortunate children of America. We remain very proud of him and his devotion to our country and his fellow soldiers. I am pleased to salute him as an American."

"David's actions as a squad leader during Operation Phantom Fury in Fallujah in November 10, 2004, speak volumes about the qualities he and other members of his platoon possessed. Nearing the end of a twelve-building clearing operation, they entered a structure and came under immediate machine gun fire in a front hallway. Ambushed and effectively trapped, and with two soldiers already wounded, David's men were in dire need of assistance. David stepped in, retrieved an automatic weapon, and first with another soldier, and then alone, according to his Medal of Honor citation, "Acting on instinct to save the members of his platoon... Staff Sergeant Bellavia ultimately cleared an entire enemy-filled house, destroyed four insurgents, and badly wounded a fifth. Staff Bellavia's bravery, complete disregard for his own safety, and unselfish and courageous actions are in keeping with the finest traditions of military service and reflect great credit upon himself and the United States Army.""

"A native of Buffalo, New York, David grew up the youngest of four sons. His maternal grandfather, Joseph Brunacini, had a great influence on him. Grandpa Joe served in the army during the Normandy campaign and was awarded a Bronze Star... Following his graduation from the University of Buffalo, David enlisted in the Army in 1999. Originally assigned to a recruiting battalion so his infant son could receive medical care, David eventually became an infantryman. He served in Kosovo and Operations Iraqi Freedom I and II. David left the Army in 2005 and co-founded Vets for Freedom, an advocacy group for combat veterans and their battlefield mission. He also worked as an embedded reporter in Iraq before returning to the United States, and lives in New York State with his wife and three children."

"Staff Sergeant David G. Bellavia distinguished himself by acts of gallantry and intrepidity above and beyond the call of duty on November 10, 2004, while serving as a squad leader in support of Operation Phantom Fury in Fallujah, Iraq. While clearing a house, a squad from Staff Sergeant Bellavia’s platoon became trapped within a room by intense enemy fire coming from a fortified position under the stairs leading to the second floor. Recognizing the immediate severity of the situation, and with disregard for his own safety, Staff Sergeant Bellavia retrieved an automatic weapon and entered the doorway of the house to engage the insurgents. With enemy rounds impacting around him, Staff Sergeant Bellavia fired at the enemy position at a cyclic rate, providing covering fire that allowed the squad to break contact and exit the house. A Bradley Fighting Vehicle was brought forward to suppress the enemy; however, due to high walls surrounding the house, it could not fire directly at the enemy position. Staff Sergeant Bellavia then re-entered the house and again came under intense enemy fire. He observed an enemy insurgent preparing to launch a rocket-propelled grenade at his platoon. Recognizing the grave danger the grenade posed to his fellow soldiers, Staff Sergeant Bellavia assaulted the enemy position, killing one insurgent and wounding another who ran to a different part of the house. Staff Sergeant Bellavia, realizing he had an un-cleared, darkened room to his back, moved to clear it. As he entered, an insurgent came down the stairs firing at him. Simultaneously, the previously wounded insurgent reemerged and engaged Staff Sergeant Bellavia. Staff Sergeant Bellavia, entering further into the darkened room, returned fire and eliminated both insurgents. Staff Sergeant Bellavia then received enemy fire from another insurgent emerging from a closet in the darkened room. Exchanging gunfire, Staff Sergeant Bellavia pursued the enemy up the stairs and eliminated him. Now on the second floor, Staff Sergeant Bellavia moved to a door that opened onto the roof. At this point, a fifth insurgent leapt from the third floor roof onto the second floor roof. Staff Sergeant Bellavia engaged the insurgent through a window, wounding him in the back and legs, and caused him to fall off the roof. Acting on instinct to save the members of his platoon from an imminent threat, Staff Sergeant Bellavia ultimately cleared an entire enemy-filled house, destroyed four insurgents, and badly wounded a fifth. Staff Sergeant Bellavia’s bravery, complete disregard for his own safety, and unselfish and courageous actions are in keeping with the finest traditions of military service and reflect great credit upon himself and the United States."

"David Bellavia was the first living recipient of the Iraq War to receive our nation's highest military award, the Medal of Honor. In June 2019, at a White House ceremony, David joined America's most exclusive and heroic club. He is one of only 3,525 individuals who have earned that illustrious award since its creation in 1861. David is grateful that he was nominated and selected for his actions in the Second Battle of Fallujah in 2004, while keeping things in perspective."

"I served with some of the greatest men I've ever met in my entire life. And I truly believe that 99 percent of our military is Medal of Honor capable. Any soldier who is put in a position to bleed in order to save people would do exactly what I did. This is who we are and how we were raised in the Armed Forces. There are a million reasons why we're divided in this country, but I've never cared what your skin color was, who you worshipped, how you voted, or who you loved. Male, female, if you are willing to get shot at for me and my buddies, I will follow you, and I will lead you anywhere. We're family. That's what makes us elite American warriors. When I was younger, I thought I needed hate to win, hate and anger at my enemy to sustain myself. Now, as I look back, I recognize that we don't fight out of hate. We fight for love- love of our country, our homeland, our family, and our unit. That's stronger than anything the enemy has."

"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."

""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."

"The Ramrods were part of the legendary 1st Infantry Division. Movies have been made on the Big Red One for its actions on D-Day and through Europe during World War II. The Fighting First fought in nearly every major American battle of World War I; it saw combat for five years in Vietnam before being forward deployed to Germany to face the Warsaw Pact/Soviet threat during the final decades of the Cold War. The Big Red One is the backbone of the American infantry. These days, it is sometimes overshadowed by the airborne divisions in the popular press. The 1st Infantry Division, with the Ramrods at the top of the spear, has won every battle it has fought since 1918."

"The only way to bridge the divide is if everyone realizes that we all have skin in the game. Everyone has to serve. Does that means they have to be in the military, that we should reinstate the draft? No. We all have to do something that's about doing something for someone other than ourselves. And we should realize that as soldiers, as warriors, we swore an oath of allegiance to a document, to the US Constitution. We were there protecting a document and what that document represents. We chose to go be uncomfortable so that others could remain in comfort. We didn't do it for our careers or our bottom line."

"My greatest regret has always been leaving the service I so dearly loved. I tried to make it work at home, but but the pull of the battlefield was too strong. Out there, I had meaning and purpose. You live on the raged edge of danger that forces you to confront your own mortality. Every breath becomes euphoric. You exist in a different emotional framework. In rural western New York, life's color was drained away by a million little nicks. You stress over bills and taxes, a car that's become unreliable. The house needs siding, the floors in the kitchen need to be redone. All the logistical headaches of modern life take center stage and start to define your life. Out there, on the battlefield, none of that shit matters. None of it. The complexities vanish, and everything boils down to this: can you measure up? When you do, you feel like a rock star. Nothing- no drug in the world- can compare to that moment of self-discovery. For me, self-discovery in combat convinced me the essence of life distills down to one thing: proving to yourself why you are needed in the fight."

"It's important to have different perspectives, and journalism supports that. Today, everyone has an opinion about everything. COVID-19 happens, and suddenly we're all research specialists posting our findings on Facebook or wherever. What we don't do is properly consider the sources of our material, our "facts." Everyone responds emotionally to everything. We paint millennials in a bad light: the iGeneration is awful; but the truth is that my parents' generation thought the same things about us. We were couch potatoes; we lived in our parents' basements until we were twenty-five. Then the Twin Towers fell. Every generation is going to be tested. And some people are going to answer the call. Fortunately, I believe that many liberals shoot as straight as conservatives. I served with a lot of guys who hated George W. Bush and his reasons for taking us to war. Now they didn't vote for President Trump. But under fire, they saved my life and they made sure I came home. Those guys are my family. I love them to death. We argue about politics every single day, but we also see beyond that."

"They name me the first living recipient to earn the Medal of Honor for bravery in the Iraq War. A coworker of mine reads about the award. "Hey, some guy with your name is getting the Medal of Honor. Isn't that weird? How many David Bellavias are out there?" "I know, right? It's so weird," I say. It's surreal and unnatural to get credit when you've lived your entire life to be about the team. It's never about the individual. I'm not here to celebrate me. I decide to be the first guy to bring his entire unit to the ceremony. If I'm going to go through with this, I'm going to go with the guys that I did it with fifteen years ago. So I get the whole crew in. I bring thirty-two service members to the ceremony in the East Room at the White House in June 2019, including the twelve who were there with me on that night in 2004, plus five Gold Star families, the interpreter, and Mick Ware."