Distinguished Service Cross Recipients

"Seems to me that if you're afraid or living with some big fear, you're not really living. You're only half alive. I don't care if it’s the boss you're scared of or a lot of people in a room or diving off of a dinky little board, you gotta get rid of it. You owe it to yourself. Makes sort of a zombie out of you being afraid. I mean you want to be free, don't you? And how can you if you are scared? That's prison. Fear's a jailer. Mind now, I'm not a professor on the subject. I just found it out for myself. But that's what I think."

"I don't know what bravery is, sometimes it takes more courage to get up and run than to stay. You either just do it or you don't. I got so scared the first day in combat I just decided to go along with it."

"I feel no qualms; no pride, no remorse. There is only a weary indifference that will follow me through the war."

"The true meaning of America, you ask? It’s in a Texas rodeo, in a policeman’s badge, in the sound of laughing children, in a political rally, in a newspaper. ... In all these things, and many more, you’ll find America. In all these things, you’ll find freedom. And freedom is what America means to the world. And to me."

"Loyalty to your comrades, when you come right down to it, has more to do with bravery in battle than even patriotism does. You may want to be brave, but your spirit can desert you when things really get rough. Only you find you can't let your comrades down and in the pinch they can't let you down either."

"I am in favor of no more war but as long as war clouds hover over the earth, as a citizen, I feel we should be prepared for the worst."

"I was scared before every battle. That old instinct of self-preservation is a pretty basic thing, but while the action was going on some part of my mind shut off and my training and discipline took over. I did what I had to do."

"The first concerns a disturbing attitude toward the military service that seems to be developing of late. There is a growing tendency to regard military service as an onerous chore rather than an exciting opportunity. The chance to serve one’s country is a high privilege, not a wearisome sacrifice. I feel quite certain that not one of the gallant men, honored here, regretted the years he spent in the uniform of these United States."

"All men are born to die…and if one man must go a few turns of the earth sooner than the next…what has he really lost? In life, quality is what counts, not quantity. It’s not how long, but how well one lives that matters the most. Who among us would hang on for a few brief moments longer, to leave a worse world behind…or refuse to depart a bit earlier, if he could leave a better world to his children and posterity? I would like to turn now to a subject that seems to be receiving a great deal of attention recently, the younger generation. I don’t believe there was such a thing when I was a kid, but we have them today…and a much maligned group they are. I won’t attempt to explore the reasons for this now, except to suggest that the bizarre and unusual make news, and television can easily, if not intentionally, create the illusion that a handful of deserters are the entire army."

"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."

"The best and the worst things you hear about him are both true."

"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."

"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."

"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.”"

"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 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."

"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."

"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."

"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."

"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."

"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."

"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."

"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."

"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."

"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."

"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.""

"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 shadows are lengthening for those of us who fought in World War II. In the twilight of our lives, our thoughts return to happier days, when we struggled together not as individuals, but as a team- a team that willingly sacrificed itself to protect its members. Sixty years after our final victory, these men remain different. Not one man walks around wearing his wings or medals on his chest to stand out. It is what each man carries in his chest that makes him different. It is the confidence, pride, and character that make the World War II generation stand out in any crowd. I'm proud to have been a small part of it. I certainly harbor no regrets. And not a day goes by that I don't think of the men I served with who never had the opportunity to enjoy a world of peace."

"I was extremely blessed to have been the commander of Easy Company. No single individual "deserved" the privilege of leading such a remarkable group of warriors into battle. And to this day, I am humbled by that experience."

"I wish to convey a final thought- and I hope it doesn't sound out of place- but I would like to share something as I look back on the war. War brings out the worst and the best in people. Wars do not make men great, but they do bring out the greatness in good men. War is romantic only to those who are far away from the sounds and turmoil of battle. For those of us who served in Easy Company and for those who served their country in other theaters, we came back as better men and women as the result of being in combat, and most would do it again if called upon. But each of us hoped that if we had learned anything from the experience, it is that war is unreal and we earnestly hoped that it would never happen again."

"Even though Easy Company was still widely scattered, the small portion that fought at Brecourt had demonstrated the remarkable ability of the airborne trooper to fight, albeit outnumbered, and win. This sort of combat typified the independent action that characterized the American airborne divisions that jumped in Normandy. Once the battle began, discipline and training overcame our individual and collective fears."

"Despite this deplorable situation of landing in enemy territory without a rifle, I still wasn't scared. Don't ask me why. Fear paralyzes the mind but I needed to be able to think clearly, especially when men's lives were at stake. Though I had been apprehensive whether or not I would measure up, the long months of training now kicked in. Before jumping, I'd though of cutting the top of my chute off and using the silk as a raincoat, both protection against the cold and for camouflage. But now, the only thing on my mind was to get the hell away from those machine guns and that town. Just as I started off, trench knife in hand, another paratrooper landed close by. I helped cut him free from his chute, then grabbed one of his grenades, and said, "let's go search for my equipment." He was hesitant of taking the lead even with his tommy gun, so I said, "Follow me!""

"Never, ever give up regardless of the adversity. If you are a leader, a fellow who other fellows look to, you have to keep going. How will you know if you have succeeded? True satisfaction comes from getting the job done. The key to successful leadership is to earn respect- not because of rank or position, but because you are a leader of character. In the military, the president of the United States may nominate you as a commissioned officer, but he cannot command for you the loyalty and confidence of your soldiers. Those you must earn by giving loyalty to your soldiers and providing for their welfare. Properly led and treated right, your lowest-ranking soldier is capable of extraordinary acts of valor. Ribbons, medals, and accolades, then, are poor substitutes to the ability to look yourself in the mirror every night and know that you did your best."

"1. Strive to be a leader of character, competence, and courage. 2. Lead from the front. Say, "Follow me!" and then lead the way. 3. Stay in top physical shape- physical stamina is the root of mental toughness. 4. Develop your team. If you know your people, are fair in setting realistic goals and expectations, and lead by example, you will develop teamwork. 5. Delegate responsibility to your subordinates and let them do their jobs. You can't do a good job if you don't have a chance to use your imagination or your creativity. 6. Anticipate problems and prepare to overcome obstacles. Don't wait until you get to the top of the ridge and then make up your mind. 7. Remain humble. Don't worry about who receives the credit. Never let power or authority go to your head. 8. Take a moment of self-reflection. Look at yourself in the mirror every night and ask yourself if you did your best. 9. True satisfaction comes from getting the job done. The key to a successful leader is to earn respect- not because of rank or position, but because you are a leader of character. 10. Hang Tough!- Never, ever give up."

"Easy Company had a reputation- because of our captains, Herbert Sobel and Dick Winters- as the toughest and best. Since the Army lacked manpower, we were always sent in to take up the slack. As trained as we were, as good as we were, it was chaos, death was all around, you knew any minute could be your last. We froze, we starved, we were covered in filth, we were exhausted, we lost good kids every day, we saw things people don't see in ten lifetimes. When we thought we were beaten down as far as we could go, we were kept on the front lines. I never expected to survive a day, let alone the whole war. We lost a lot of men, but we inflicted more casualties on the Germans than they inflicted on us. In Bastogne, they had three times the men and three times the firepower. I have no idea how we done it. I still can't believe we won the war."

"Winters gave the order to go. Lieutenant Welsh ran out with a few men from 1st Platoon behind him, and all hell broke loose. The Germans opened up on us with an MG-42 straight up the road. Everybody froze in the ditch. We were pinned down by machine-gun fire. If you lifted your head it would get blown off. Winters didn't care, he wanted everyone to move out, he wanted us right behind Welsh. He was yelling "Go! Go! Go!" but no one budged. He ran into the middle of the road, bullets flying by his head, running from one side of the road to the other and back, screaming and yelling like a lunatic, trying to get us to move out. Everybody was looking at each other saying "Is he friggin' nuts? He thinks we're going to get up?!" I never saw Winters that mad in my life. I think we figured Winters was going to get himself killed, so we better get the hell up. We ran right through the machine-gun fire, and I think Welsh took out the main gun with a grenade."

"I last visited Dick Winters on October 30, 2010. Three weeks earlier, I had grasped his hand and told him how much he meant to me and that he was my dearest friend. He looked at me and directed me to "hang in there." Now, at the end of October, Dick was definitely approaching his final days. He did not look very well, and I suspected he did not have much time remaining. Ethel, too, tired easily, but her spirits were high. When Mary and I entered the house, I wondered if it would be our final visit. Dick laughed when we reminisced about the first time he had met Mary and demanded, "Tell me about yourself!" I reminded Dick that to Mary's eternal consterntation, he would always remain my best friend and Mary merely my best female friend. He just smiled with that familiar twinkle in his eye. While Mary and Ethel conversed, I took the opportunity to speak to Dick in muffled tones. I think we both realized that the end was approaching, but he refused to concede defeat. "I'm comfortable where I am now. I realize my time is short, but I am at peace," Dick said. I couldn't help but think that his mind was already over the next hill, where his wartime comrades were standing at attention, awaiting their commander's arrival. We mostly spoke about the beauty of the autumn leaves, the birds, and the flowers outside his window. As I rose to leave, I leaned over and whispered, "Dick, the country was blessed to have had you in its hour of need. I will always cherish our time together. I love you as my brother." These were my final words to Major Dick Winters. "Don't ever change that," he responded with a tear in his eye."

"I remember him as if it were yesterday. The old soldier emerged from the elevator in the hotel lobby at the U.S. Military Academy at West Point, dapperly attired in a dark blazer with the crest of the 101st Airborne Division on his pocket. His neatly cropped gray hair reflected a military man far younger than his current seventy-nine-plus years. I am not sure what I had expected to see. At the time of our initial encounter, most veterans of World War II were in their late seventies or early eighties. Most veterans who visited West Point to share their reminiscences with the cadets walked with the aid of canes or walkers. In Winters's case, there was a noticeable spring in his step that belied his age. This shy, quiet gentleman who introduced himself simply as "Dick Winters" immediately made an indelible impression on me. From the beginning, I was "Cole," he was "Dick." Never once for the next thirteen years did we ever address each other by rank or surname. Over dinner Dick and I discussed a myriad of topics, all associated with his wartime experience and his thoughts on leadership in war. Why were some commanders more effective than others in inspiring their men? How did you identify the best soldiers in your company? Had he relieved any commander in combat? To what did he attribute his success in Easy Company? Were his leadership principles applicable to the civilian and the corporate worlds? Minutes evolved into hours as we discussed leadership under a number of circumstances. Before we finished dinner, I had already decided that I would include Dick Winters in the book I was writing about combat leadership in World War II. To my great satisfaction, he invited me to spend a few days on his farm outside Fredericksburg, Pennsylvania. By the time that the evening was over, I had received the best primer on leadership than I had obtained in twenty-five years of commissioned service."

"The President of the United States of America, authorized by Act of Congress, July 9, 1918, takes pleasure in presenting the Distinguished Service Cross to First Lieutenant (Infantry) Richard D. Winters (ASN: 0-1286582), United States Army, for extraordinary heroism in connection with military operations against an armed enemy while serving with Company E, 2d Battalion, 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment, 101st Airborne Division, in action against enemy forces on 6 June 1944, in France. First Lieutenant Winters with seven enlisted men, advanced through intense enemy automatic weapons fire, putting out of action two guns of the battery of four 88-mm. that were shelling the beachhead. Unswerving in his determination to complete his self-appointed and extremely hazardous task, First Lieutenant Winters and his group withdrew for reinforcements. He returned with tank support and the remaining two guns were put out of action, resulting in decreased opposition to our forces landing on the beachhead. First Lieutenant Winters' heroic and determined leadership exemplify the highest traditions of the military forces of the United States and reflect great credit upon himself, the 101st Airborne Division, and the United States Army."

"The President of the United States of America, authorized by Act of Congress, July 9, 1918 (amended by act of July 25, 1963), takes pleasure in presenting the Distinguished Service Cross to Colonel (Armor) George Smith Patton (ASN: 0-28685), United States Army, for extraordinary heroism in action in connection with military operations involving conflict with an armed hostile force in the Republic of Vietnam, while serving with Headquarters, 11th Armored Cavalry Regiment. Colonel Patton distinguished himself by exceptionally valorous actions on 5 September 1968 during a battle with a North Vietnamese Army force near Chanh Luu. From his command and control helicopter Colonel Patton saw a force of fifty-eight hostile soldiers attempting to escape his troops' encirclement. He immediately directed his door gunners to engage the communists and ordered his pilot to land in the vicinity of the enemy element. As the aircraft touched down it was damaged by an intense barrage of hostile fire from a deep, well concealed ravine. Aided by helicopter gunships, Colonel Patton led an assault against the North Vietnamese positions which forced the enemy to withdraw. A three-man rocket propelled grenade team remained behind to cover their retreat. When a platoon of infantry arrived to assist him, Colonel Patton led a squad into the ravine and directed an assault on the hostile position. During the fierce engagement Colonel Patton captured one of the aggressors, and the other two were killed as they tried to flee the ravine. Colonel Patton's extraordinary heroism and devotion to duty were in keeping with the highest traditions of the military service and reflect great credit upon himself, his unit, and the United States Army."

"The President of the United States of America, authorized by Act of Congress July 9, 1918 (amended by an act of July 25, 1963), takes pleasure in presenting a Bronze Oak Leaf Cluster in lieu of a Second Award of the Silver Star to Colonel (Armor) George Smith Patton (ASN: 0-28685), United States Army, for gallantry in action while engaged in military operations involving conflict with an armed hostile force on 9 August 1968 while serving as Commanding Officer, 11th Armored Cavalry Regiment in the Republic of Vietnam. On this date, elements of the 11th Armored Cavalry Regiment, assisted by the 1st Battalion, 8th Army of the Republic of Vietnam Regiment, were conducting a cordon and search operation in the village of Chanh Luu, Binh Duong Province. During the operation, the Army of the Republic of Vietnam troops performing the actual search encountered stubborn resistance by communist forces fighting from tunnels hidden under the village and progress was halted by hostile grenade attacks which inflicted a number of casualties upon the troops. At this time Colonel Patton intervened in the firefight, encouraging the Army of the Republic of Vietnam troops to continue their assault of the tunnel complex. Unable to find a fragmentations grenade, Colonel Patton obtained a smoke grenade from one of the Army of the Republic of Vietnam soldiers. Directing his Sergeant Major and S-2 to direct covering fire, Colonel Patton, totally disregarding his own personal safety, advanced upon the enemy position. As hostile forces attempted to launch another grenade attack from the tunnel entrance, Colonel Patton fully exposed himself to the full intensity of their fire, and threw the smoke grenade into the tunnel opening forcing the enemy force to break contact and enabling the friendly unit to secure the hostile position. Colonel Patton's courage and exceptional planning resulted in 16 communists killed and the capture of 99 Viet Cong suspects, one RPG-2 Rocket Launcher, 21 RPG-2 rocket rounds and numerous small arms and small arms ammunition. Colonel Patton's outstanding leadership abilities, unwavering devotion to duty and profound personal bravery while under hostile fire were in keeping with the highest traditions of the military service and reflect great credit upon himself, his unit, and the United States Army."

"The President of the United States of America, authorized by Act of Congress, July 9, 1918 (amended by act of July 25, 1963), takes pleasure in presenting a Bronze Oak Leaf Cluster in lieu of a Second Award of the Distinguished Service Cross to Colonel (Armor) George Smith Patton (ASN: 0-28685), United States Army, for extraordinary heroism in action in connection with military operations involving conflict with an armed hostile force in the Republic of Vietnam, while serving with Headquarters, 11th Armored Cavalry Regiment. Colonel Patton distinguished himself by exceptionally valorous actions on 24 September 1968 while directing a sweep around the village of Chanh Luu conducted jointly by the 36th Army of the Republic of Vietnam Rangers and Troop B of his 11th Armored Cavalry Regiment. Intense automatic weapons and rocket-propelled grenade fire from a house destroyed an assault vehicle and wounded several men, including the Rangers' commanding officer. Seeing that the Ranger unit was beginning to lose momentum, Colonel Patton had his command and control helicopter land in the middle of the embattled area and left the ship to rally the Vietnamese soldiers. Exposing himself to the hostile fire raking the area, he maneuvered them back to a supporting position near the enemy stronghold and directed his troops to more defensible terrain, while personally engaging the communists with his grenade launcher. He then led a charge which destroyed the house and revealed a heavily fortified bunker that had been concealed by the building. Ordering his men to lay down a base of fire, Colonel Patton crawled through the open terrain until he was at the fortification's entrance and hurled a grenade inside. When the enemy in the extensive and well protected bunker continued to resist, he assaulted a second time with two other men and placed TNT in the emplacement, annihilating the position. Colonel Patton's extraordinary heroism and devotion to duty were in keeping with the highest traditions of the military service and reflect great credit upon himself, his unit, and the United States Army."

"George, the Army needs someone like you right now. You can't quit."

"Patton asked him to go aboard a chopper equipped with a loudspeaker and order his men to surrender. The prisoner quickly refused, and Patton said to him, "If you don't go up in the chopper with me and ask them to surrender you have personally signed their death warrants, because I will be forced to obliterate this position." The NVA captain again declined, and Patton's frustration was evident. He glowered at the man, and said, "Goddamn it, who is winning this war?" "You are," as the reply. "Then in that case," Patton shouted, "why don't we save the lives of your soldiers and let us take them out and feed them and medicate them?" "Sir," he said, "you didn't ask who would win this war." "Well, who is going to win this war?" Patton snorted. "We will," the prisoner said forcefully, "because you will tire of it before we do.""

"I'd follow that man to hell and fight the devil himself 'cause I'm damn sure he'd lead me back."

"The President of the United States of America, authorized by Act of Congress, July 2, 1926, takes pleasure in presenting the Distinguished Flying Cross to Colonel (Armor) George Smith Patton (ASN: 0-28685), United States Army, for extraordinary achievement while participating in aerial flight while serving with Headquarters and Headquarters Troop, 11th Armored Cavalry Regiment in the Republic of Vietnam during the period from 17 March 1969 to 27 March 1969."

"I hereby consent to the acceptance of my son of his conditional appointment as a cadet in the military service, and he has my full permission to sign articles binding himself to serve the United States eight years, unless sooner discharged. Signed: G.S. Patton, Jr., Major General."

"Maj. Gen. George S. Patton III is the son and namesake of "Old Blood and Guts" of World War II fame. The younger Patton fought in both Korea and Vietnam, where he served three tours between 1962 and 1969. His last assignment there was as commander of the 11th Armored Cavalry Regiment, which his father had led during its horse cavalry days. Retired from the service, Patton raises produce, blueberries, and cattle on a piece of land he inherited from his family in Hamilton, Massachusetts."

"George need not worry about missing a war. The next one is on the way."

"My grandfather notoriously slapped two shell-shocked soldiers. A decade later, my father, in turn, savagely beat a young lieutenant who'd deserted his foxhole during a battle. Both men were products of their time, when PTSD wasn't even in the vocabulary."