united-states-marines

"I feel like it gave me an opportunity to give back to the country, and it introduced me to the strength of the country and its people. It has been a wonderful experience, and the Marine Corps has been the highlight of this experience."

"After his military retirement, MajGen Livingston continued living in New Orleans for 11 years and worked in the banking and development business. He was involved in the startup of an ATM company and also involved in banking, building high-rise structures and a 5,000 acre master-plan community in Biloxi/Gulfport, MS. He then moved to the Charleston, S.C., area where he is currently on the board of Beacon Community Bank. He retired from all employment in 2004. MajGen Livingston and his wife, Sara, have been married 58 years and they have two children and three grandchildren. In his leisure time, he enjoys working out, traveling throughout the world and being involved in public affairs. He belongs to the Marine Corps League, the Washington Light Infantry, Society of Colonial Wars, Charleston Club and the Carolina Yacht Club. He serves as Chairman Emeritus and as an Honorary Board Member of the National WWII Museum in New Orleans, a founding member of the Beacon Community Bank in Charleston, S.C., and an Honorary Life member of the German Friendly Society."

"For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty while serving as Commanding Officer, Company E, in action against enemy forces. Company E launched a determined assault on the heavily fortified village of Dai Do, which had been seized by the enemy on the preceding evening isolating a marine company from the remainder of the battalion. Skillfully employing screening agents, Capt. Livingston maneuvered his men to assault positions across 500 meters of dangerous open rice paddy while under intense enemy fire. Ignoring hostile rounds impacting near him, he fearlessly led his men in a savage assault against enemy emplacements within the village. While adjusting supporting arms fire, Capt. Livingston moved to the points of heaviest resistance, shouting words of encouragement to his marines, directing their fire, and spurring the dwindling momentum of the attack on repeated occasions. Although twice painfully wounded by grenade fragments, he refused medical treatment and courageously led his men in the destruction of over 100 mutually supporting bunkers, driving the remaining enemy from their positions and relieving the pressure on the stranded marine company. As the two companies consolidated positions and evacuated casualties, a third company passed through the friendly lines launching an assault on the adjacent village of Dinh To, only to be halted by a furious counterattack of an enemy battalion. Swiftly assessing the situation and disregarding the heavy volume of enemy fire, Capt. Livingston boldly maneuvered the remaining effective men of his company forward, joined forces with the heavily engaged marines, and halted the enemy's counterattack. Wounded a third time and unable to walk, he steadfastly remained in the dangerously exposed area, deploying his men to more tenable positions and supervising the evacuation of casualties. Only when assured of the safety of his men did he allow himself to be evacuated. Capt. Livingston's gallant actions uphold the highest traditions of the Marine Corps and the U.S. Naval Service."

"Major General James E. Livingston served over 33 continuous years on active duty in the United States Marine Corps. His Military Occupational Service Code was Infantry Officer. During the Vietnam War, on May 2, 1968, while serving as Commanding Officer, Company E, Second Battalion, Fourth Marines, Maj Gen Livingston distinguished himself above and beyond the call of duty in action against enemy forces during the Battle of Dai Do, and he earned the Medal of Honor, and he is the only recipient of the Medal of Honor from Auburn University. He received the following other medals, badges, commendations, ribbons, citations and decorations: Distinguished Service Medal, Silver Star Medal, Defense Superior Service Medal, Bronze Star Medal with Combat "V", Purple Heart Third Award, Defense Meritorious Service Medal, Meritorious Service Medal Second Award, Navy Commendation Medal with Combat "V" Combat Action ribbon, Second Award and various other service and foreign decorations. MajGen Livingston has received numerous awards from civilian organizations. He has been awarded the Daughters of the American Revolution's highest award for patriotism, leadership and service, the DAR Medal of Honor. At Auburn University in 1990, he received the Sigma Pi Founders Award. In 2001, he received the Distinguished Auburn Engineer and Distinguished Veteran Awards. In 2012, he was awarded the Auburn University Lifetime Achievement Award, and in 2018, he was awarded South Carolina's highest honor, the Order of the Palmetto, by Gov. Henry McMaster. In 2024, he was inducted into the State of Alabama Engineering Hall of Fame. The Warrior Lodge at the A-HERO farm in Macon County, AL, is named for him. Veterans and first responders participate in outdoor activities as a means to recover from their physical wounds and psychological trauma to reintegrate with American life."

"Corporal Meyer maintained security at a patrol rally point while other members of his team moved on foot with two platoons of Afghan National Army and Border Police into the village of Ganjgal for a pre-dawn meeting with village elders. Moving into the village, the patrol was ambushed by more than 50 enemy fighters firing rocket propelled grenades, mortars, and machine guns from houses and fortified positions on the slopes above. Hearing over the radio that four U.S. team members were cut off, Corporal Meyer seized the initiative. With a fellow Marine driving, Corporal Meyer took the exposed gunner’s position in a gun-truck as they drove down the steeply terraced terrain in a daring attempt to disrupt the enemy attack and locate the trapped U.S. team. Disregarding intense enemy fire now concentrated on their lone vehicle, Corporal Meyer killed a number of enemy fighters with the mounted machine guns and his rifle, some at near point blank range, as he and his driver made three solo trips into the ambush area. During the first two trips, he and his driver evacuated two dozen Afghan soldiers, many of whom were wounded. When one machine gun became inoperable, he directed a return to the rally point to switch to another gun-truck for a third trip into the ambush area where his accurate fire directly supported the remaining U.S. personnel and Afghan soldiers fighting their way out of the ambush. Despite a shrapnel wound to his arm, Corporal Meyer made two more trips into the ambush area in a third gun-truck accompanied by four other Afghan vehicles to recover more wounded Afghan soldiers and search for the missing U.S. team members. Still under heavy enemy fire, he dismounted the vehicle on the fifth trip and moved on foot to locate and recover the bodies of his team members. Corporal Meyer’s daring initiative and bold fighting spirit throughout the 6-hour battle significantly disrupted the enemy’s attack and inspired the members of the combined force to fight on. His unwavering courage and steadfast devotion to his U.S. and Afghan comrades in the face of almost certain death reflected great credit upon himself and upheld the highest traditions of the Marine Corps and the United States Naval Service."

"There is no such person as a former Marine. Fifty years after they have left active duty, Marines still sign emails to each other with S/F- Semper Fidelis. Always Faithful. Of course we have among us those who fail themselves, their families, and society. The fact remains, though, that the Corps expects every Marine to live by a set of core values. In turn, the Corps keeps its side of the bargain. You cannot ask anything more of an organization than that."

"I regret that I cannot share the names of several of the Afghans who stood by us Americans in those moments of agony. Intellectually, I understand it was their duty to defend their country. Emotionally, though, I was deeply touched by those who fought in conditions beyond the call of duty. The sad part is that I cannot divulge some names because those Afghans would be placed on a Taliban hit list inside their own country. How's that for irony?"

"Did the PTSD clinic make a difference in my life? Yes, it did. I'm still here."

"Every word in this book is what I remember to the best of my ability. I've been over this book again and again, separately with Bing, with our editor, Will Murphy, with Dean Schmidt, and with Toby and Ann. Will Swenson was also a great help. Perhaps writing the narrative will help me come to terms with what happened. I hope so. To the families of Lt. Mike Johnson, Staff Sgt. Aaron Kenefick, Doc Layton, and Edwin Johnson, I offer my everlasting and profound regret. The Marine Corps teaches you not about trying, but about doing, and I didn't get there in time. I will forever miss my team."

"Second, they believe that when the Marines go to war they invariably turn in a performance that is dramatically and decisively successful—not most of the time, but always."

"First, they believe that when trouble comes to our country there will be Marines—somewhere—who, through hard work, have made and kept themselves ready to do something useful about it, and do it at once."

"The third thing they believe about the Marines is that our Corps is downright good for the manhood of our country; that the Marines are masters of a form of unfailing alchemy which converts unoriented youths into proud, self-reliant stable citizens—citizens into whose hands the nation’s affairs may safely be entrusted."

"Being ready is not what matters. What matters is winning after you get there."

"Until recently I didn't know what Instagram was. It's not that I don't feel like I'm part of my generation I'm way better than when I was No I didn't know."

"Once again, I take my gunner's .45 to see if I can scrounge up some more ammo. No luck. I get back to my position and I'm still upright when a grenade goes off behind my left heel. I get shrapnel in my leg and left buttocks. It puts me down. "Take over the squad," I holler to the gunner. "I've been hit." A hospital corpsman arrives and asks where I've been hit. I tell him, and as he's getting my britches undone to examine the injury, a second grenade rolls beside me. I grab it and I'm going to throw it. First impulse to get rid of it, right? But I'm lying flat on my back and I'm thinking I can't get this out of reach of my own men. So I scoop the grenade under my right hip and grab the corpsman. As I pull him down on top of me, I say, "Hit the dirt, doc. I've got it in my hip pocket." The grenade goes off. Takes us both off the ground. My body aborbs the full force of the explosion."

"My next words are, "Get me the hell out of here, I can't take much more of this." The corpsmen and the gunnery sergeat drag me to a bunker full of wounded men. As I'm given a shot of morphine, I think, "Okay, this is it. We're going to bleed to death, or the Chinese troops are going to come in here and finish us off. I'm looking Old Man Death right in the face." I don't pray for myself. I spend the rest of the night praying for my wife, Bertha, and my infant daughter, Arline. She was born right after I left for Korea. I pray that Bertha will find a good father for our daughter and a good husband for herself. Near daybreak, someone pokes their head inside and tells us the Chinese have pulled out. I'm sent to a field hospital, where I'm told I've also taken a bullet to the stomach. The blast put a good-size hole in my hip, but it missed my spine. I know how lucky I am to be alive."

"My sons and I are often asked what it was like growing up with my dad, their granddad. To me, he is just a normal dad. To my boys, he is just their granddad. We are very proud of him, and it is wonderful to attend celebrations where he is recognized. We try to answer any questions asked if they arise. But, just like Dad, we're not the ones starting any conversations about his medal or what he has done. We are on a first-name basis with many of the Medal of Honor recipients. When you're with them, they're just ordinary people. It's easy to forget how special they are to the rest of the world, but I try my best to never let that happen. I know they are all special. I know they each did something phenomenal."

"For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty while serving as a gunner in a machine-gun platoon of Company E, in action against enemy aggressor forces. When an enemy grenade landed close to his position while he and his assistant gunner were receiving medical attention for their wounds during a fierce night attack by numerically superior hostile forces, Cpl. Dewey, although suffering intense pain, immediately pulled the corpsman to the ground and, shouting a warning to the other marines around him, bravely smothered the deadly missile with his body, personally absorbing the full force of the explosion to save his comrades from possible injury or death. His indomitable courage, outstanding initiative, and valiant efforts in behalf of others in the face of almost certain death reflect the highest credit upon Cpl. Dewey and enhance the finest traditions of the U.S. Naval Service."

"The Medal of Honor means a lot to me, but every time I put it on, I think about other Marines who deserve the award and didn't get it. I didn't do anything that somebody else in my position wouldn't have done."

"Dad rarely feels comfortable talking about his time in Korea or his Medal of Honor until 2010, when he's invited to Gainesville, Texas- aka "The Medal of Honor Host City." Medal of Honor recipients are invited there to attend various celebrations, where they are introduced to and speak with city residents and are also taken to several local schools to meet students. The students go above and beyond in welcoming the recipients with personal escorts, patriotic decorations throughout the schools, and one-on-one interactions. The recipients sit in front of the auditorium or gymnasium and answer student questions or go in groups of two or three to visit different classrooms and briefly share their stories. Forty years after I asked him to come speak to my history class, Dad's finally in a place where he's willing to talk about his time in Korea and the Medal of Honor. From then until his health starts to fail, he returns to the event in Texas every year and also begins attending annual "Lest We Forget" gatherings in Benton Harbor, Michigan, to share his story with groups of adults. He also agrees to engage in multiple interviews and recordings about his experiences, as well as making several appearances with different military associations."

"Woody doesn't think he's done anything special. He was just doing his job."

"I didn't earn it. I wear it for those Marines who lost their lives protecting mine."

"For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty as demolition sergeant serving with the 21st Marines, 3d Marine Division, in action against enemy Japanese forces on Iwo Jima, Volcano Islands, 23 February 1945. Quick to volunteer his services when our tanks were maneuvering vainly to open a lane for the infantry through the network of reinforced concrete pillboxes, buried mines, and black volcanic sands, Cpl. Williams daringly went forward alone to attempt the reduction of devastating machine-gun fire from the unyielding positions. Covered only by four riflemen, he fought desperately for four hours under terrific enemy small-arms fire and repeatedly returned to his own lines to prepare demolition charges and obtain serviced flamethrowers, struggling back, frequently to the rear of hostile emplacements, to wipe out one position after another. On one occasion, he daringly mounted a pillbox to insert the nozzle of his flamethrower through the air vent, killing the occupants, and silencing the gun; on another he grimly charged enemy riflemen who attempted to stop him with bayonets and destroyed them with a burst of flame from his weapon. His unyielding determination and extraordinary heroism in the face of ruthless enemy resistance were directly instrumental in neutralizing one of the most fanatically defended Japanese strongpoints encountered by his regiment and aided vitally in enabling his company to reach its objective. Cpl. Williams' aggressive fighting spirit and valiant devotion to duty throughout this fiercely contested action sustain and enhance the highest traditions of the U.S. Naval Service."

"Everyone has some instinct of bravery. As long as you can control the fear, you can be brave."

"I had thirty great years in the Marine Corps. I accomplished my goals. If they would have let me stay till a hundred years old, I would have stayed. I loved it that much. I was basically very lucky to command everything from a platoon to a company to a regiment of five thousand Marines. I was always in command, and I loved leading and setting an example and taking care of Marines. It was in my blood."

"For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty while serving as commanding officer, Company G, in action against enemy forces from 30 April to 2 May 1968. On 1 May 1968, though suffering from wounds he had incurred while relocating his unit under heavy enemy fire the preceding day, Maj. Vargas combined Company G with two other companies and led his men in an attack on the fortified village of Dai Do. Exercising expert leadership, he maneuvered his marines across 700 meters of open rice paddy while under intense enemy mortar, rocket, and artillery fire and obtained a foothold in two hedgerows on the enemy perimeter, only to have elements of his company become pinned down by the intense enemy fire. Leading his reserve platoon to the aid of his beleaguered men, Maj. Vargas inspired his men to renew their relentless advance, while destroying a number of enemy bunkers. Again wounded by grenade fragments, he refused aid as he moved about the hazardous area reorganizing his unit into a strong defensive perimeter at the edge of the village. Shortly after the objective was secured the enemy commenced a series of counterattacks and probes which lasted throughout the night but were unsuccessful as the gallant defenders of Company G stood firm in their hard-won enclave. Reinforced the following morning, the marines launched a renewed assault through Dai Do on the village of Dinh To, to which the enemy retaliated with a massive counterattack resulting in hand-to-hand combat. Maj. Vargas remained in the open, encouraging and rendering assistance to his marines when he was hit for a third time in the three-day battle. Observing his battalion commander sustain a serious wound, he disregarded his excruciating pain, crossed the fire-swept area, and carried his commander to a covered position, then resumed supervising and encouraging his men while simultaneously assisting in organizing the battalion's perimeter defense. His gallant actions uphold the highest traditions of the Marine Corps and the U.S. Naval Service."

"I had very few problems. I was always down at the grass roots with the enlisted people. I wanted to lead them. I wanted them to know that I cared for them, you know, I was gonna take care of them. And I still get calls, guys saying, 'God, Colonel, I wish to hell we could all get together again.' And a couple of times we have. We've had reunions, you know."

"From then on, for me, it was just busy times with the Medal, but I had good teachers. A lot of the generals told me, 'Don't blow it. Watch your drinking. Don't cause any trouble because you've earned the highest medal. You're always gonna be showtime. You can't get a parking ticket.' And that's the hardest part, you can't... [live it up] like the old college days. But you've really got to watch yourself. And I think they knew that I've always been a "we" man, us." I don't think I'll ever change. That Medal could have gone to sixty-eight other guys that day, really could. So when I wear it, I wear it for everyone who's ever served. That's the way I look at the Medal."

"A lot of these young officers I had around me, if a kid had a dirty rifle, they would give the kid a special punishment for it. My philosophy was, if anybody had a dirty rifle, it wasn't the kid's fault. It was his damn leaders, the squad leader or his platoon sergeant or his gunny. That's who I'd blame. And if they ever marched into my office with that kind of charge, I'd say, 'Well, whose fault is this?' The room would go silent. Then I'd say, 'You know whose damn fault this is? It comes all the way up to me.'"

"They're very confident people. It's amazing. We all came from little bitty towns. A lot of us came from very poor families. They're down-to-earth people. They're not braggers. They just seem like they were put into a position for a very short period and whatever came out of them came out ten times stronger than you would ever expect your body or person to do in a particular situation. What drove me was I cared so much for my Marines. That was my family, and my responsibility was to lead them. That's a strong loyalty that comes from every Medal recipient I've met, and they're patriotic. It's like those country-and-western songs I grew up with. You know, they love kids, dogs, and all women."

"But I enjoyed commands. There were three things I wanted to do in the Corps, and I'm one of those that always liked to set objectives: One was to be able to lead Marines in peacetime and combat. And I proved that I could do that. Another was I wanted to be called a colonel of Marines, a full colonel. And the third one was I always wanted to lead a regiment of Marines, five thousand Marines. And I got to accomplish all that."

"To tell you the truth, I did it. I know I did it. Other people know I did it. But I'll be God damned if I know how I did it. Put it that way."

"We're loyal Americans, Number One. Most of them are dependable. You can depend on them for anything. I think there's a feeling of unity in the society that no other group in the country has because you know that people expect a lot of things from you, and you'll make a concerted effort to abide by that, and honor it. And I always mention that this doesn't belong to me. It belongs to thirty-three other guys, too. And then I can tell the story about that. I don't know how else to tell it because, after all, they were there and fought with me, but they didn't get anything but Purple Hearts. And half of them died. The last thing I ever thought about was a medal."

"For extraordinary heroism and conspicuous gallantry in action above and beyond the call of duty while serving with a company of marines in combat against enemy Japanese forces in the Solomon Islands on 26 October 1942. When the enemy broke through the line directly in front of his position, P/Sgt. Paige, commanding a machine-gun section with fearless determination, continued to direct the fire of his gunners until all his men were either killed or wounded. Alone, against the deadly hail of Japanese shells, he fought with his gun and when it was destroyed, took over another, moving from gun to gun, never ceasing his withering fire against the advancing hordes until reinforcements finally arrived. Then, forming a new line, he dauntlessly and aggressively led a bayonet charge, driving the enemy back and preventing a breakthrough in our lines. His great personal valor and unyielding devotion to duty were in keeping with the highest traditions of the U.S. Naval Service."

"For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty while serving as a rifleman with Company F, in action against enemy aggressor forces. When all the other members of his fire team became casualties, creating a gap in the lines, during the initial phase of a vicious attack launched by a fanatical enemy of regimental strength against his company's hill position, Pvt. Cafferata waged a lone battle with grenades and rifle fire as the attack gained momentum and the enemy threatened penetration through the gap and endangered the integrity of the entire defensive perimeter. Making a target of himself under the devastating fire from automatic weapons, rifles, grenades, and mortars, he maneuvered up and down the line and delivered accurate and effective fire against the onrushing force, killing 15, wounding many more, and forcing the others to withdraw so that reinforcements could move up and consolidate the position. Again fighting desperately against a renewed onslaught later that same morning when a hostile grenade landed in a shallow entrenchment occupied by wounded marines, Pvt. Cafferata rushed into the gully under heavy fire, seized the deadly missile in his right hand and hurled it free of his comrades before it detonated, severing part of one finger and seriously wounding him in the right hand and arm. Courageously ignoring the intense pain, he stanchly fought on until he was struck by a sniper's bullet and forced to submit to evacuation for medical treatment. Stouthearted and indomitable, Pvt. Cafferata, by his fortitude, great personal valor, and dauntless perseverance in the face of almost certain death, saved the lives of several of his fellow marines and contributed essentially to the success achieved by his company in maintaining its defensive position against tremendous odds. His extraordinary heroism throughout was in keeping with the highest traditions of the U.S. Naval Service."

"Conoley and his men helped write my citation, apparently. But none of them could join our defense. When the Japanese overran me, there were just so many of them, and it was pitch-dark. Actually, I would literally, absolutely, positively run into them, and they didn't know whether I was Japanese or anybody else. They were just hollering, 'Banzai! Banzai! Banzai!' And all that, and the screaming and hollering and flashes were all over the place, because mortars were landing all around us. That was Captain Lou Ditta; he was firing his mortars right in front of my position. I started with a pistol but that didn't last very long. In the pitch dark you see flashes, just a second, and you can see this thing happening, you can see it's a man there. These Japanese ran their bayonets through one of our guys, and literally picked him up and threw him over their heads."

"Colonel Paige's record in World War II epitomizes the ancient rhyme about how small details affect the course of events; the lack of a nail leads to the loss of a shoe, leading to the loss of a horse, rider, battle, and eventually the entire kingdom. It was my belief, and that of many military historians, that such was the case on that horrendous night on Guadalcanal in 1942. If Mitch Paige and his Marines had not held that critical position protecting America's tenuous foothold on Guadalcanal, our first offensive action of World War II might have been emboldened to negotiate a flawed peace treaty with a political price tag almost too high to imagine- the eventual surrender of Southeast Asia, the Hawaiian Islands, and Alaska. Sergeant Paige and his tenacious Marines thus may have altered the course of history. Our Corps of Marines took the offensive, never to lose it."

"Interestingly enough, when many young Marines ask Colonel Paige about his World War II action, he simply states, "I was just doing the job I was trained to do." Today's Mitch Paige has the same humility, the same candor and the same love of America he has always had. Our country and Marines, past, present, and future, are damn lucky to have a Marine named Mitch."

"I tell you the screaming and hollering you couldnt describe, no way in the world could I describe the sound. You know, a lot of the Japanese could speak English, and, when their assault on us began, this guy started screaming, 'Blood for the Emperor! Blood for the Emperor!' And Stansberry, he was throwing hand grenades and yelling back, 'Blood for Eleanor! Blood for Eleanor!' Bad as it was, I couldn't help but laugh. He and I were just like brothers."

"Every recipient has got to be different because, you take a guy from a coal mine or steel mill or the farm, and he's awarded the Medal of Honor, his life changes immediately."

"Years later, Cafferata petitioned the Marines to have Benson also receive the Medal of Honor. It wasn't until early 2000 that Harvey Barnum, Jr, Deputy Assistant Secretary of the Navy for Reserve Affairs, and himself a Marine Medal of Honor recipient, awarded Benson the Silver Star, our nation's third highest award for valor, for his actions that day, at a ceremony at Picatinny Arsenal. Benson passed away on March 23, 2012 at the age of 80. Cafferata's son Dale graduated from the United States Air Force Academy and became a helicopter pilot. Whenever his father visited him at an Air Base, the Air Force senior leadership would render honors to him, which he shunned. Cafferata's Medal of Honor citation has the words "stout-hearted" and "indomitable" but should have included "humble," which he truly was. Cafferata passed away on April 12, 2016 at age 86 and was buried at the Quantico National Cemetery in Virginia."

"Now, that having been said, people say, You know, we lost the war in Vietnam. We didn't lose the war in Vietnam. The war in Vietnam was lost across the river here [from the Pentagon] by these gutless politicians who were running the country. You never send in military unless you're going to send in enough to get the job done. And then you have to have an exit strategy. Because on the battlefield the best prepared wins, the second best prepared loses. If we're going to be ready to go any place at any time in defense of freedom and win, by God, we gotta have the balls to do it right. Another thing is you don't chase them to the border and then not go after them. We weren't allowed to go into Laos and Cambodia. There's stories about Lyndon Johnson sitting on the commode in the White House, picking out targets in Vietnam from a list. What you could do, and what you couldn't do. If we'd done it right, put the right amount of troops in, let the military run it, we wouldn't have drug it out. That's where it was lost."

"But you know every false step is a learning experience. And think of this: Communism, as we know it today, I think, started coming apart because of the defeat [of the United States] in Vietnam, because of the battles in Vietnam. And when the Berlin Wall came down, I felt good because, I said, we were a part of that. Those of us who fought in Vietnam are part of that. Maybe I want to feel that way in my heart, I don't know. But I really do. I believe that."

"For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty. When the company was suddenly pinned down by a hail of extremely accurate enemy fire and was quickly separated from the remainder of the battalion by over 500 meters of open and fire-swept ground and casualties mounted rapidly, Lt. Barnum quickly made a hazardous reconnaissance of the area, seeking targets for his artillery. Finding the rifle company commander mortally wounded and the radio operator killed, he, with complete disregard for his safety, gave aid to the dying commander, then removed the radio from the dead operator and strapped it to himself. He immediately assumed command of the rifle company, and moving at once into the midst of the heavy fire, rallying and giving encouragement to all units, reorganizing them to replace the loss of key personnel and lead their attack on enemy positions from which deadly fire continued to come. His sound and swift decisions and his obvious calm served to stabilize the badly decimated units and his gallant example as he stood exposed repeatedly to point out targets served as an inspiration to all. Provided with two armed helicopters, he moved fearlessly through enemy fire to control the air attacks against the firmly entrenched enemy while skillfully directing one platoon in a successful counterattack on the key enemy positions. Having thus cleared a small area, he requested and directed the landing of two transport helicopters for the evacuation of the dead and wounded. He then assisted in the mopping-up and final seizure of the battalion's objective. His gallant initiative and heroic conduct reflected great credit upon himself and were in keeping with the highest traditions of the Marine Corps and the U.S. Naval Service."

"I wear that medal for the guys who served with me. I think most of the guys feel that way. We're really a caretaker of the medal, for those who served with us. Because if it wasn't for the guy on your left and the guy on your right, we wouldn't be here now."

"I recently found out- my son came across this book in the library- that one of my favorite baseball players was flying suppor for us that day, and he got hit by small-arms fire and crash-landed on his way back to the base. His name was Ted Williams. Back when I was in officer school in Quantico, Virginia, a friend from Pueblo and I went and saw his team, the Red Sox, play the Senators [now the Minnesota Twins] in Washington, and he didn't hit a ball out of the infield, and I remember thinking, 'Shit, I'll never see that man again.' Well then, when I got to Natrick, Williams- maybe the greatest hitter who ever lived- had come back. He got out of the military, rejoined the Red Sox, and I got an opportunity to see him play about six more times. I even saw his final game, when he left after hitting that last home run. He was the only Major Leaguer I know of that got called back for Korea. I heard after Ungok we lost a tank commander and we lost another officer who was flying close air support. I didn't know that was Ted Williams. He had to crash-land going back to base because the controls of his Corsair had been shot up. He was a big hero of mine."

"I just don't remember. I'll tell you one thing I remember: When it got close to the end of the day, I told somebody in my company we were going back up one more time, and I found a whole four-man machine-gun crew, all of them dead. So we started lifting them up, dragging them, trying to get them off as fast as we could. Marines don't leave their dead. That was our way. We had to get them out. I don't know what the hell they were killed by. I didn't get a chance to follow up. Anyway, I was pulling a guy by his shoulders, over rocks and through brushes and stuff, and all of a sudden I look down at what I'm pulling, and he's naked. His pants were ripped from shell fire and then got torn off as I dragged him. And I thought, "Shit, even in dying up here you can't have any privacy." There was no dignity in death. You could see the enemy. They were going around, dodging behind bushes and stuff, hiding. I lost every weapon I had. I lost my .45. I lost my carbine. I had at least one M-1 that I lost. I would pick these guns up and use them on the way up and then, when you're busy getting a stretcher or moving wounded, you shitcan your weapon. I ended up the whole day not only hauling stretchers, but with a BAR, a Browning Automatic Rifle. I don't know how that happened."

"For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty as a platoon commander of Company A, in action against enemy aggressor forces. Although painfully wounded by fragments from an enemy mortar shell while leading his evacuation platoon in a support of assault units attacking a cleverly concealed and well-entrenched hostile force occupying commanding ground, 2d Lt. Murphy steadfastly refused medical aid and continued to lead his men up a hill through a withering barrage of hostile mortar and small-arms fire, skillfully maneuvering his force from one position to the next and shouting words of encouragement. Undeterred by the increasing intense enemy fire, he immediately located casualties as they fell and made several trips up and down the fire-swept hill to direct evacuation teams to the wounded, personally carrying many of the stricken marines to safety. When reinforcements were needed by the assaulting elements, 2d Lt. Murphy employed part of his unit as support and, during the ensuing battle, personally killed two of the enemy with his pistol. With all the wounded evacuated and the assaulting units beginning to disengage, he remained behind with a carbine to cover the movement of friendly forces off the hill and, though suffering intense pain from his previous wounds, seized an automatic rifle to provide more firepower when the enemy reappeared in the trenches. After reaching the base of the hill, he organized a search party and again ascended the slope for a final check on missing marines, locating and carrying the bodies of a machine-gun crew back down the hill. Wounded a second time while conducting the entire force to the line of departure through a continuing barrage of enemy small-arms, artillery, and mortar fire, he again refused medical assistance until assured that every one of his men, including all casualties, had preceded him to the main lines. His resolute and inspiring leadership, exceptional fortitude, and great personal valor reflect the highest credit upon 2d Lt. Murphy and enhance the finest traditions of the U.S. Naval Service."

"I don't know how many I saved. It's hard to be strong on details of what happened that day. I don't recall shooting two guys with a pistol, like the citation says. People ask me, but it was a confusing time. It really was. To get the Medal you have to have three nominees, witnesses. If they said that's what I did, I'm not one to argue with them. I've only known one recipient in our [Medal of Honor] Society who told me many years ago he wasn't scared and he knew what he was doing in his combat action. Well, most of the people around me at that time and after say that's a bunch of bullshit. You don't get in the infantry and not be scared."

"We caught a B&O train out of St. Louis for Philadelphia, and it was just our luck that it ran five and a half hours late before we got to Philadelphia. The scenery on our trip was lost to us, because we were covered with dust and roasted too. However I did enjoy winding in and out among the mountains of West Virginia."