The ORIGINAL gathering place for a merry band of Three Percenters. (As denounced by Bill Clinton on CNN!)
wow... that brought tears to my eyes
I am humbled.BobIII
What guts, what determination! A hero's hero.
Thanks for sharing this, Mike. I hope that other bloggers pick this up and that it spreads far and wide. Master Sargeant Benavidez's courage, honor and determination is truly humbling.
One of the most respected men in SF, not only for his exploits but for the person he was. All the accolades are deserved, he was one hell of a man. De Oppresso Liberbacsi
In 1990 or 1991 I was coming out of the clothing sales building at Ft Sheridan and saw an E-8 in dress greens walking up. He had the Blue Max, MOH Ribbon on and fortunately, I overcame my awe at seeing that & remembered my protocol and saluted him. Only time I ever saw anyone wearing one in the 10 years I served.The picture at the end of the video looked a whole lot like I remember of that encoubter. I always wondered who it was and looked through the official MOH site w/o ever getting an answer. That picture pretty much makes me think it must have been him. Wow. The cadre told us stories about him in our 91A classes in AIT. Who'd a thought?Thanks for posting this.
I met him when he accespted our invitation to our unit Christmas party.Later he showed some of us the scars - his chest looked like a roadmap. A determined man can take hits (and even serious ones if he is lucky) and keep going.A genuine hero and inspiration to all.
I learned his story many years ago. The Night Infiltration Course range (among other places in the Army) at Fort Knox is named after him.
That kind of courage makes grown men cry at its magnificence.Trust me, I know.
About the crying part, I meant.
My first trip to "The Wall" was the day after watching The Boy's commissioning ceremony.At first I was unimpressed - lists of names on a big hunk of granite?Then you get closer. The names begin to stand out as individuals. Suddenly you realize just HOW MANY names there are on that wall.And every one of them was somebody's Boy.I cried - sobbed huge, painful, gut-wrenching sobs - because every one of those boys had a Dad, Mom, sisters and/or brothers who loved them.Every one of them was somebody's boy.I seem to have something in my eye even now, as I type this.When I regained enough control to resume my walk, I came upon an easel, bearing a frame. In the frame were pictures. A baby picture. Childhood. Teen years. Cub and Boy Scouts. Football. In uniform. Holding HIS infant child.Across the top was his name, and across the bottom the sort of epitaph I hope to earn someday:"This Was A Man"That says it all, IMHO. I've told my family that this is the epitaph I seek to earn for myself -- "This Was A Man."I'm not fit to lick the dust from the soles of That Mean Mexican's boots.*THAT* was a MAN.DD
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