Fallen Marine to be awarded Medal of Honor on Thursday

[thedrifter]

Fallen Marine to be awarded Medal of Honor on Thursday

By Jeff Schogol, Stars and Stripes
Mideast edition, Sunday, January 7, 2007

Marine Cpl. Jason Dunham will be posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor on Thursday, the White House has announced.

Dunham, of Scio, N.Y., died in 2004 after he jumped on a grenade to smother the blast and protect two other Marines.

A Marine in Dunham’s company later told Marine Corps News that Dunham “wanted to save Marines’ lives” when he dived on the grenade.

President Bush announced Nov. 10 that Dunham, of 3rd Battalion, 7th Marine Regiment, 1st Marine Division, I Marine Expeditionary Force, would receive the award for his actions in an Iraqi town near the Syrian border.

The Medal of Honor ceremony will take place 10 a.m. Thursday at the White House.

The fallen Marine will be the second U.S. servicemember to receive the military’s highest award for valor for service in Iraq. The other, Army Sgt. 1st Class Paul Ray Smith, was honored for his actions in April 2003, killing up to 50 members of the Iraqi Republican Guard before dying from a head wound.

A third servicemember, Army Spc. Ross Andrew McGinnis, based out of Schweinfurt, Germany, also has been recommended for the Medal of Honor for his service in Iraq.

McGinnis was killed Dec. 4 in Baghdad after diving on a grenade that had been thrown into his Humvee, saving the lives of four other troops in the vehicle. He already has been awarded the Silver Star for his actions.

Ellie

[OLE SARG]

It should not take this long to screen a recommendation of this type. This young Marine gave his life saving his comrades in arms. Somebody needs to put a candle under the arses of whoever approves these recommendations!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

SEMPER FI,

[thedrifter]

January 06, 2007
A legacy of valor



During one of his stints as an embedded reporter with Lima Company, Third Battalion, Seventh Marines, Wall Street Journal reporter Michael Phillips tumbled to the story of Marine Cpl. Jason Dunham (photo above by Mark Edward Dean). In 2004 the Journal published Phillips's riveting account of Corporal Dunham's story: "In combat, Marine put theory to test, comrades believe." Phillips subsequently expanded the Journal story into The Gift of Valor, published in paperback last year.

On Thursday President Bush will present the parents of Cpl. Dunham with the Medal of Honor. President Bush announced the award at the opening of the Marine Corps Museum in Quantico this past November. In the photo above (taken by Phillips), Major Trent Gibson comforted Cpl. Dunham's mother Deb at the museum after the news. Phillips reported the announcement of the award at the time:
"As far back as boot camp, his superiors spotted the quality that would mark this young American as an outstanding Marine: His willingness to put the needs of others before his own," Mr. Bush said. "As long as we have Marines like Cpl. Dunham, America will never fear for its liberty."

On patrol on April 14, 2004, Cpl. Dunham found himself engaged in hand-to-hand combat with an insurgent near the Syrian border. When his attacker dropped a live hand grenade, the Marine made the split-second decision to cover the weapon with his own helmet, shielding two of his men from its full explosive force.

The other Marines staggered away from the blast, injured but alive. Cpl. Dunham suffered deep shrapnel wounds to the brain. He survived eight days in a coma, only to die with his parents at his bedside. He was 22 years old.

"There's not a day that goes by that I don't think about it," said Cpl. William Hampton, one of the Marines fighting beside Cpl. Dunham when the grenade exploded. The explosion left Cpl. Hampton, a 24-year-old from Woodinville, Wash., peppered with shrapnel. "I see my arms, I see my leg. I'm always reminded of it."
In today's Wall Street Journal, Phillips updates the story with a heart-rending profile of the other Marine whose life Cpl. Dunham saved, Cpl. Kelly Miller: "How do you repay a hero's sacrifice?" (I'm afraid that a subscription may be required -- go buy today's Journal). Cpl. Miller, though comforted, encouraged and "adopted" by Deb Dunham, is tortured by survivor's guilt. Phillips's superb story should serve as a reminder that Cpl. Dunham's sacrifice -- as that of so many others -- is one that we will all have to redeem.

OLE SARG I do agree....

Ellie

[thedrifter]

We need to Thank dscusmc for given this Outstanding article....

Thank You Sir!

Ellie


How Do You Repay a Hero's Sacrifice?

Three years ago, a fellow Marine gave his life to save Kelly Miller. It has been a hard road since.

By MICHAEL M. PHILLIPS
The Wall Street Journal
January 6, 2007 10:46 a.m.; Page A1

EUREKA, Calif. -- Kelly Miller has the dream once or twice a week.

He's on patrol in Iraq, searching a white Toyota Land Cruiser. The driver lunges out and grabs Cpl. Miller's squad leader, Jason Dunham, around the neck. The Iraqi and Cpl. Dunham tumble to the ground in a ferocious hand-to-hand struggle. Cpl. Miller beats the insurgent with a police baton. Another Marine races over to help. The Iraqi drops a hand grenade.

The force of the explosion lifts Cpl. Dunham into the air, his back arching before he falls back toward the brown-dirt road.

Almost three years have passed since that grenade exploded for real. But the images are never far from his mind -- the insurgent, the explosion and the friend who intentionally took the brunt of a live grenade and gave his own life to save Cpl. Miller's. The adrenalin of combat, the pain of hot shrapnel, the guilt of making it home alive.

At the White House on Thursday, President Bush will present Cpl. Dunham's parents with the Medal of Honor, the nation's highest award for military valor, the first such award for a Marine since Vietnam. The ceremony will enshrine Jason Dunham for posterity as one who loved his brothers more than himself.

In the audience will sit Cpl. Miller, a 23-year-old still struggling with what it means to receive that much love.

When American forces rolled into Baghdad in April 2003, Kelly Miller was living with his parents in Eureka in their modest shingled home, within sight of the smoky columns rising from the local paper mill. His mom, Linda, was an energetic doctor's-office manager with practical short hair. His dad, Charlie, was a quiet man who delivered mail for 31 years, then retired to care for his grandchildren.

But the news from Iraq made him wonder about his own courage. How would he perform in combat? One morning after his shift ended, he walked into the Marine recruiter's office at the strip mall and enlisted in the infantry.

So just after noon on April 14, 2004, he found himself a grunt in the Fourth Platoon of Kilo Co., Third Battalion, Seventh Marines -- and Cpl. Dunham's point man on a patrol through a trash-strewn Iraqi neighborhood near Karabilah, on the Syrian border.

He was still what the Marines called a boot, a private first class fresh out of boot camp. Many senior enlisted men made life miserable for the boots. But Cpl. Dunham was different. When the boots had to fill sand bags in the hot sun, Cpl. Dunham filled sand bags beside them. Cpl. Miller and other boots loved him for it.

The insurgents had already gotten the jump on the patrol that day, firing a rocket-propelled grenade at the squad's Humvees. The grenade had missed its mark, and Cpl. Dunham's men climbed out of the vehicles to hunt down the shooter.

As point man, it was Cpl. Miller's job to spot roadside bombs and ambushes before it was too late. The responsibility weighed on him as he moved carefully past stone walls and silent, half-built homes. He worried that any mistake would get his friends killed.

The patrol stopped to search a line of vehicles that seemed to be fleeing. Cpl. Miller and Cpl. Dunham approached the white Land Cruiser, where Cpl. Miller saw a rifle poking out from under the rear floor mat. He looked up just in time to see the driver attack Cpl. Dunham.

The insurgent's hand grenade sprayed Cpl. Miller and Cpl. Bill Hampton, the other Marine who rushed to Cpl. Dunham's aid, with jagged pieces of metal. Cpl. Miller heard a ringing in his head, the echoes of a burst ear drum. His face flushed hot, and his mouth tasted of blood. A red stream dripped off his left hand, and he was confused to find that he couldn't pick up his rifle. Pieces of shrapnel burned in his face and arms.

"My mom is going to be … ****ed," he told another Marine as he wandered away from the scene, according to both men.

Despite the shrapnel that peppered Cpl. Hampton, he, too, was able to stagger away. But Cpl. Dunham lay still, a fragment embedded deep in his brain. He would die eight days later at a Naval hospital in Bethesda, Md., with his parents at his bedside.

Cpl. Dunham's commanders soon figured out that he had placed his helmet over the grenade to protect his friends, an act of bravery described in a front-page story in The Wall Street Journal on May 25, 2004.

The Marines sent Cpl. Miller to recuperate in Eureka, where he became withdrawn and quick to anger. He couldn't get it out of his head that, as point man, he was supposed to protect the Marines behind him. He was the first one to get to Cpl. Dunham's side, but instead of saving Jason, Jason saved him.

He had a tattoo artist ink a helmet-and-rifle memorial honoring Cpl. Dunham on his right arm with the words: Remember the Fallen 4-14-04. When he was well enough to play softball, Cpl. Miller taped his wrist to give him strength to swing the bat and wrote "Cpl. J.D. USMC" on the wrap.

"Mom, goddammit," he told Mrs. Miller after a couple of beers one night, "I should have done more to save Jason."

Mrs. Miller, now 59, became long-distance friends with Cpl. Dunham's mom, Deb, a 46-year-old with shoulder-length red hair. Mrs. Dunham taught home economics at the only school in tiny Scio, N.Y., patiently coaching students in such survival skills as child-care and bachelors' cooking. At home she baked pies, made fudge and did battle with three dogs.

When she first dated Dan Dunham, a farmhand, the locals thought them an unlikely pair. She was a self-described good girl; he took pride in being a hard-drinking bad boy who gave the local police headaches. He had already been married once and was raising two young boys, Jason and Justin, on his own on $600 a month. She fell in love as much with the boys as she did with Dan, and ever after raised them as her own. The Dunhams had two more children together. For years, Mrs. Dunham couldn't rest until she knew all four children were safe in their beds.

Mrs. Dunham wasn't surprised that Jason had given his own life for his friends; she would have been surprised if he had done anything else under the circumstances. In a letter to Cpl. Hampton's mother, Mrs. Dunham wrote: "When you next get a chance to hug your son please give him one from me. He does not need to know it is from me, but I would appreciate if you would do that for me."

Far from begrudging Cpls. Miller and Hampton their survival, Mrs. Dunham felt that their lives added meaning to her own son's death. Soon Deb Dunham and Linda Miller began referring to Cpl. Miller as "our son."

"We believe that Kelly and William are both very special," Mrs. Dunham wrote to Mrs. Miller. "I do not know what is in their futures but I (we) firmly believe that Jason did what he had to do and they have some important purpose here and he has his to do in Heaven."

But for months Cpl. Miller couldn't get himself to talk to Jason's parents. When they finally met at the Marines' desert base in Twentynine Palms, Calif., Cpl. Miller spoke with them for 15 awkward minutes, unsure whether to thank them or apologize.

AS HE REGAINED STRENGTH and sensation in his arms, Cpl. Miller returned to Twentynine Palms obsessed with trying to rejoin his old platoon mates before they shipped out for their next tour of Iraq in the second half of 2005. It troubled him that his friends had finished their full seven months in the combat zone, while he had not.

Marine Maj. Trent Gibson, Cpl. Jason Dunham's commander in Iraq, comforts the corporal's mom, Deb, at the Marine Corps museum in Quantico, Va.

Cpl. Miller's commander allowed him to resume light duty as Kilo Co.'s clerk, but even in Iraq that would be a rear-echelon job without the camaraderie of the front lines. So several times a day Cpl. Miller pestered the captain to allow him to rejoin Fourth Platoon as a rifleman, doing five quick pull-ups outside the office for emphasis.

The captain would allow Cpl. Miller back into a rifle platoon only with permission from his surgeon, his physical therapist, the battalion medical officer and his mother. Cpl. Miller collected the letters, including one from a very reluctant Mrs. Miller.

In March 2005, the captain cleared him to rejoin Fourth Platoon, and Cpl. Miller traveled home to Eureka to break the news. Mrs. Miller was in her room, folding clothes on the bed, when he told her that he would soon return to Iraq.

"Why do you feel you need to go back?" she asked him. "You don't have to."

"I have to finish something I started the first time," Cpl. Miller told her. He left the room, returning a few minutes later. "I have to go and finish what Dunham started, and bring my guys home," he said.

SOON ENOUGH, Cpl. Miller found himself in Ramadi, the most hostile city in the Sunni Triangle, for what proved to be months of grueling cat-and-mouse games with the insurgents. The Marines of Kilo Co. hid in abandoned buildings to ambush bomb makers. They manned an isolated, bomb-gutted outpost that was a frequent target for mortar and rocket attacks. They watched as Iraqis in civilian clothes casually dropped explosives on the main road through the city.

On three occasions Cpl. Miller called home from Iraq to report that he had been hurt. Once he injured his ankle playing basketball on base. Another time he stepped into a hole while on patrol. And another, his Humvee was destroyed by a roadside bomb. Each time he called, Mrs. Miller would report back to Mrs. Dunham, and they would fret together.

After he returned from Ramadi, Cpl. Miller decided he had had enough of the Marine Corps, and on his Web page he put a clock that counted down to the end of his enlistment in June, 2007. When the clock hit zero, he hoped to join his older brother as a sheriff's deputy back home in Eureka. He liked the idea of uniformed service, but without the long overseas deployments that made it hard to raise a family as a Marine.

Over the years, Cpl. Miller grew more comfortable around the Dunhams, and made a habit of calling Mrs. Dunham on holidays, such as Christmas and Mother's Day, when he knew that Jason would have called. They'd chat about his dating life and the doings of the Dunham family. He had long talks with Jason's younger brother and sister. Mrs. Dunham noticed the brotherly, teasing tone of their conversations, as if Kelly were trying to fill the gap left by Jason. He talked to Kyle, then 15, about the pros and cons of enlisting in the Marines, reminding him that going to college first would give him more options in life. Enlisting meant a four-year contract.

One night last summer, Mrs. Dunham hit a low spot, home alone and desperate to talk to Jason. In tears she phoned Cpl. Miller. He had friends over, but kept her talking until she was laughing again.

On his Web page, Cpl. Miller wrote, "Who I'd like to meet: The most Honorable Man I have ever had the privilege of meeting: Cpl. Jason Dunham. To have a chance to talk to him one more time would be priceless."

At the same time, Mrs. Miller felt that her son's personality had darkened. Her Kelly had been such a happy-go-lucky kid; now he seemed at ease only with other Marines or with two Eureka friends who served in the Army. His voice-mail message was a droning monotone: "You've reached Kelly. Whatever."

On his Web page, he posted a photo of himself in Ramadi, aiming a rifle at the photographer. He described his Nissan sports car and wrote: "I love to pitch it sideways or scream through a windy mountain pass."

One weekend last September, Cpl. Miller left base and drove to Eureka to see his girlfriend, Kellyn Griffin, a 21-year-old junior at Humboldt State University. On Saturday night, they went to the apartment of one of his Army buddies to play a movie-trivia game. Ms. Griffin drank rum and Cokes. Cpl. Miller drank Maker's Mark bourbon. They left just after midnight.

Michael M. Phillips
During his second combat tour, then-LCpl. Kelly Miller was posted in Ramadi.

Cpl. Miller made it about a mile before he lost control of the Nissan and flipped it over at a "high rate of speed," according to the police report. The car took to the air, sheared off a wooden utility pole 20 feet above the street and came to a rest on the driver's side, crunched up like a paper napkin after a dinner party.

Ms. Griffin was found in a pool of blood fifty feet away from the Nissan, with a broken arm, a lacerated liver and a concussion that dulled her thinking for days.

Police found Cpl. Miller walking in circles in a nearby parking lot. When a state trooper interviewed him, the corporal volunteered that he "(messed) up and am screwed for drunk driving" and said he had to take responsibility for his mistake, according to the police report. The officer arrested him at 2 a.m. after a test that police say revealed a blood-alcohol level above the legal limit.

The crash broke Cpl. Miller's nose, a front tooth and his left shoulder blade and socket. At the hospital, Cpl. Miller was frantic for news of Ms. Griffin. Blood still covering his face, he found her hospital bed, felt his head spin and stumbled out of the room.

Cpl. Miller was released a few hours later. That night Mrs. Miller called Cpl. Dunham's mom. "Well, our boy did it," Mrs. Miller said.

A few days later, Mrs. Dunham called back and laid into Cpl. Miller. "You need to stop, Kelly," she recalls saying. "You need to learn to like yourself because Jason gave you a gift. Your mom and I can't lose anybody else."

"I know," he said. "I'm sorry."

"Whether you do something spectacular or not, you still haven't completed your purpose in this life," she continued. "Whether it's you or your child or your great-great-grandchild who does something phenomenal, you have a purpose here, and your destiny isn't done yet."

Cpl. Miller was on heavy painkillers at the time and soon forgot the details of the conversation. But later he remembered how angry Jason's mother had been, and how ashamed he had felt.

The police charged Cpl. Miller with two drunk-driving felonies that carry a maximum combined penalty of six years in prison. A felony conviction would kill any chance of joining the sheriff's department.

Shortly after doctors removed the staples closing the wound on her back, Ms. Griffin and Cpl. Miller lay in bed in his childhood room. "I feel really bad, because in essence someone gave his life for me, and then I turned around and instead of making use of it, I quite possibly put it to waste," he told her.

Near the bed was a photo of Cpl. Miller in his dress blues and Purple Heart medal, a reminder of Cpl. Dunham's sacrifice. "I have to do good by more people and live up to the potential of both of us," Cpl. Miller told her.

THE CORPORAL'S FELLOW GRUNTS have rallied to his side. When Maj. Trent Gibson, commander of Kilo Co. when Cpl. Dunham was killed, heard about the car accident, he felt he had let Cpl. Miller down. Even though the major had changed jobs in the Marine Corps, he knew that Kelly had been having nightmares about the grenade attack. He knew Kelly had been getting reckless.

He wished he had said something earlier. Now, he emailed his men:

Kilo Brothers,

For those of you who haven't heard, Cpl Miller had another near-death experience this last Sunday. He's *******ed lucky. Let's all give him a phone call...or shoot him an email...and let him know that we care about him and that he's got to keep his head on straight if he's going to make good on the gift that Cpl Dunham gave him....

Semper Kilo.

Marines who had served under Cpl. Miller in Ramadi sent letters and emails to the judge who would hear his case. "This Marine has only to begin his life," wrote LCpl.Robert B. Bullard. "To rob him of what he has done for me, my platoon, and country would not only be morally incorrect but a criminal act against a mistake."

Mrs. Dunham wrote a lengthy letter telling the judge how Cpl. Miller had rushed to her son's side that day in Iraq. She described how he had since stepped in as a surrogate brother to her youngest children.

She also described how Kelly "has been chasing his personal demons" since Jason sacrificed himself. "I wish you would consider that Kelly is an honorable young man who volunteered to serve and protect those weaker than himself," she wrote.

On Nov. 10, at the opening of the Marine Corps museum in Quantico, Va., President Bush announced his decision to award Cpl. Dunham the Medal of Honor. Leaving the ceremony, Mrs. Dunham talked about the legacy of her son's death. "I'm worried about Kelly," she said. "It's a gift. Strings aren't attached to it. Guilt shouldn't be attached to it. They should just do the best they can with their lives."

The Dunhams have invited dozens of Kilo Co. Marines to Thursday's Medal of Honor presentation in the East Room of the White House. The award, they say, isn't just for their son; it's for all of the young men who served beside him.

Two weeks later, Cpl. Miller is due back in court . His lawyer is trying to persuade the judge and prosecutor to reduce the felony charges to misdemeanors, which would probably allow the corporal to avoid prison. If they agree, and he keeps his record clean for a few years, he could still apply to be a sheriff's deputy.

On his Web page Cpl. Miller writes: "I can't wait for the time to come for a new chapter in my life."

Write to Michael M. Phillips at michael.phillips@wsj.com5

[grayshade]

This just shows America's true grit, what one young American would do to save the lives of his brothers in arms. I take my hat for them and remember some old words,"There is no better sacrifice than to give your life for another..."

Oorah, Semper Fi!

And gods speed.

[FistFu68]

ALL GAVE SOME~SOME GAVE ALL

[thedrifter]

January 08, 2007
Bush to present Medal of Honor to Dunham’s family Thursday

By John Hoellwarth
Times staff

The president will present the Medal of Honor to the family of Cpl. Jason Dunham during a ceremony in the White House’s East Room on Thursday, according to White House officials.

Dunham was an infantryman assigned to 3rd Battalion, 7th Marines, when he was severely wounded in Karabilah, Iraq, on April 14, 2004, after smothering an enemy grenade with his body and helmet to save fellow Marines. He succumbed to his wounds eight days later.

“By giving his own life, Corporal Dunham saved the lives of two of his men and showed the world what it means to be a Marine,” President Bush said during his Nov. 10 announcement that Dunham would posthumously receive the nation’s highest decoration for combat heroism.

Dunham becomes the first Marine to earn the Medal of Honor in more than 30 years and one of only two U.S. service members to be awarded the medal since the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq began.

Army Sgt. 1st Class Paul Smith was posthumously awarded the medal on April 4, 2005, for his actions in Baghdad during the initial invasion of Iraq on April 4, 2003.

Ellie

[thedrifter]

January 08, 2007
Dunham family to get Medal of Honor Thursday

By John Hoellwarth
Times staff

The president will present the Medal of Honor to the family of Cpl. Jason Dunham during a ceremony in the White House’s East Room on Thursday, according to White House officials.

Dunham was an infantryman assigned to 3rd Battalion, 7th Marines, when he was severely wounded in Karabilah, Iraq, on April 14, 2004, after smothering an enemy grenade with his body and helmet to save fellow Marines. He succumbed to his wounds eight days later.

“By giving his own life, Corporal Dunham saved the lives of two of his men and showed the world what it means to be a Marine,” President Bush said during his Nov. 10 announcement that Dunham would posthumously receive the nation’s highest decoration for combat heroism.

Dunham becomes the first Marine to earn the Medal of Honor in more than 30 years and one of only two U.S. service members to be awarded the medal since the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq began.

Army Sgt. 1st Class Paul Smith was posthumously awarded the medal on April 4, 2005, for his actions in Baghdad during the initial invasion of Iraq on April 4, 2003.

Ellie

[thedrifter]

Jason Dunham to receive the medal
Posted By Blackfive

Jay B. sends this link to CNN's report that Marine Corporal Jason Dunham will be awarded thr Medal of Honor.

President Bush on Friday will announce that the Medal of Honor, the nation's highest military decoration, will be awarded posthumously to Marine Cpl. Jason Dunham.

In April 2004, Dunham was leading a patrol in an Iraqi town near the Syrian border when the patrol stopped a convoy of cars leaving the scene of an attack on a Marine convoy, according to military and media accounts of the action.

An occupant of one of the cars attacked Dunham and the two fought hand to hand. As they fought, Dunham yelled to fellow Marines, "No, no watch his hand." The attacker then dropped a grenade on which Dunham threw himself.

Dunham was critically wounded in the explosion and died eight days later at Bethesda Naval Hospital in Washington.

"His was a selfless act of courage to save his fellow Marines," Sgt. Maj. Daniel A. Huff of the 3rd Battalion, 7th Marine Regiment, was quoted as saying in Marine Corps News that April.

"He new what he was doing," Lance Cpl. Jason A. Sanders, 21, of McAllester, Oklahoma, who was in Dunham's company, was quoted as saying by Marine Corps News. "He wanted to save Marines' lives from that grenade."

In various media accounts, fellow Marines told how Dunham had extended his enlistment shortly before he died so he could help his comrades...

I Love Jet Noise has the best articles about Jason.

Jason was one of the heroes that "The Blog of War" was dedicated to...and he was "the dying Marine" in LCDR Heidi Kraft wrote about in "The List":

...Things That Were Not Good

...Ushering a sobbing Marine Colonel away from the trauma bay while several of his Marines bled and cried out in pain inside
Meeting that 21-year-old Marine with three Purple Hearts...and listening to him weep because he felt ashamed of being afraid to go back
Telling a room full of stunned Marines in blood-soaked uniforms that their comrade, that they had tried to save, had just died of his wounds
Trying, as if in total futility, to do anything I could, to ease the trauma of group after group...that suffered loss after loss, grief after inconsolable grief...

Washing blood off the boots of one of our young nurses while she told me about the one who bled out in the trauma bay...and then the one who she had to tell, when he pleaded for the truth, that his best friend didn't make it...
Listening to another of our nurses tell of the Marine who came in talking, telling her his name...about how she pleaded with him not to give up, told him that she was there for him...about how she could see his eyes go dull when he couldn't fight any longer...

And last, but not least...
Holding the hand of that dying Marine.

No Words

I've been trying to decide what to say about this all morning, but on reflection I think this says it all:
Lance Cpl. Dean told those assembled about a trip to Las Vegas the two men and Becky Jo Dean had taken in January, not long before the battalion left for the Persian Gulf. Chatting in a hotel room, the corporal told his friends he was planning to extend his enlistment and stay in Iraq for the battalion's entire tour. "You're crazy for extending," Lance Cpl. Dean recalls saying. "Why?"
He says Cpl. Dunham responded: "I want to make sure everyone makes it home alive. I want to be sure you go home to your wife alive."

Mission accomplished, Corporal Dunham. Semper Fidelis.

By MICHAEL M. PHILLIPS
THE WALL STREET JOURNAL
May 25, 2004

AL QA'IM, Iraq -- Early this spring, Cpl. Jason Dunham and two other Marines sat in an outpost in Iraq and traded theories on surviving a hand-grenade attack.

Second Lt. Brian "Bull" Robinson suggested that if a Marine lay face down on the grenade and held it between his forearms, the ceramic bulletproof plate in his flak vest might be strong enough to protect his vital organs. His arms would shatter, but he might live.

Cpl. Dunham had another idea: A Marine's Kevlar helmet held over the grenade might contain the blast. "I'll bet a Kevlar would stop it," he said, according to Second Lt. Robinson.

"No, it'll still mess you up," Staff Sgt. John Ferguson recalls saying.


It was a conversation the men would remember vividly a few weeks later, when they saw the shredded remains of Cpl. Dunham's helmet, apparently blown apart from the inside by a grenade. Fellow Marines believe Cpl. Dunham's actions saved the lives of two men and have recommended him for the Medal of Honor, an award that no act of heroism since 1993 has garnered.

A 6-foot-1 star high-school athlete from Scio, N.Y., Cpl. Dunham was chosen to become a squad leader shortly after he was assigned to Kilo Company, Third Battalion, Seventh Marine Regiment in September 2003. Just 22 years old, he showed "the kind of leadership where you're confident in your abilities and don't have to yell about it," says Staff Sgt. Ferguson, 30, of Aurora, Colo. Cpl. Dunham's reputation grew when he extended his enlistment, due to end in July, so he could stay with his squad throughout its tour in the war zone.

During the invasion of Iraq last year, the Third Battalion didn't suffer any combat casualties. But since March, 10 of its 900 Marines have died from hostile fire, and 89 have been wounded.

April 14 was an especially bad day. Cpl. Dunham was in the town of Karabilah, leading a 14-man foot patrol to scout sites for a new base, when radio reports came pouring in about a roadside bomb hitting another group of Marines not far away.

Insurgents, the reports said, had ambushed a convoy that included the battalion commander, 40-year-old Lt. Col. Matthew Lopez, of Chicago. One rifle shot penetrated the rear of the commander's Humvee, hitting him in the back, Lt. Col. Lopez says. His translator and bodyguard, Lance Cpl. Akram Falah, 23, of Anaheim, Calif., had taken a bullet to the bicep, severing an artery, according to medical reports filed later.

Cpl. Dunham's patrol jumped aboard some Humvees and raced toward the convoy. Near the double-arched gateway of the town of Husaybah, they heard the distinctive whizzing sound of a rocket-propelled grenade overhead. They left their vehicles and split into two teams to hunt for the shooters, according to interviews with two men who were there and written reports from two others.

Around 12:15 p.m., Cpl. Dunham's team came to an intersection and saw a line of seven Iraqi vehicles along a dirt alleyway, according to Staff Sgt. Ferguson and others there. At Staff Sgt. Ferguson's instruction, they started checking the vehicles for weapons.

Cpl. Dunham approached a run-down white Toyota Land Cruiser. The driver, an Iraqi in a black track suit and loafers, immediately lunged out and grabbed the corporal by the throat, according to men at the scene. Cpl. Dunham kneed the man in the chest, and the two tumbled to the ground.

Two other Marines rushed to the scene. Private First Class Kelly Miller, 21, of Eureka, Calif., ran from the passenger side of the vehicle and put a choke hold around the man's neck. But the Iraqi continued to struggle, according to a military report Pfc. Miller gave later. Lance Cpl. William B. Hampton, 22, of Woodinville, Wash., also ran to help.

A few yards away, Lance Cpl. Jason Sanders, 21, a radio operator from McAlester, Okla., says he heard Cpl. Dunham yell a warning: "No, no, no -- watch his hand!"

What was in the Iraqi's hand appears to have been a British-made "Mills Bomb" hand grenade. The Marines later found an unexploded Mills Bomb in the Toyota, along with AK-47 assault rifles and rocket-propelled-grenade launchers.


A Mills Bomb user pulls a ring pin out and squeezes the external lever -- called the spoon -- until he's ready to throw it. Then he releases the spoon, leaving the bomb armed. Typically, three to five seconds elapse between the time the spoon detaches and the grenade explodes. The Marines later found what they believe to have been the grenade's pin on the floor of the Toyota, suggesting that the Iraqi had the grenade in his hand -- on a hair trigger -- even as he wrestled with Cpl. Dunham.

None of the other Marines saw exactly what Cpl. Dunham did, or even saw the grenade. But they believe Cpl. Dunham spotted the grenade -- prompting his warning cry -- and, when it rolled loose, placed his helmet and body on top of it to protect his squadmates.

The scraps of Kevlar found later, scattered across the street, supported their conclusion. The grenade, they think, must have been inside the helmet when it exploded. His fellow Marines believe that Cpl. Dunham made an instantaneous decision to try out his theory that a helmet might blunt the grenade blast.

"I deeply believe that given the facts and evidence presented he clearly understood the situation and attempted to block the blast of the grenade from his squad members," Lt. Col. Lopez wrote in a May 13 letter recommending Cpl. Dunham for the Medal of Honor, the nation's highest award for military valor. "His personal action was far beyond the call of duty and saved the lives of his fellow Marines."

Recommendations for the Medal of Honor are rare. The Marines say they have no other candidates awaiting approval. Unlike other awards, the Medal of Honor must be approved by the president. The most recent act of heroism to earn the medal came 11 years ago, when two Army Delta Force soldiers gave their lives protecting a downed Blackhawk helicopter pilot in Somalia.

Staff Sgt. Ferguson was crossing the street to help when the grenade exploded. He recalls feeling a hollow punch in his chest that reminded him of being close to the starting line when dragsters gun their engines. Lance Cpl. Sanders, approaching the scene, was temporarily deafened, he says. He assumed all three Marines and the Iraqi must surely be dead.

In fact, the explosion left Cpl. Dunham unconscious and face down in his own blood, according to Lance Cpl. Sanders. He says the Iraqi lay on his back, bleeding from his midsection.

The fight wasn't over, however. To Lance Cpl. Sanders's surprise, the Iraqi got up and ran. Lance Cpl. Sanders says he raised his rifle and fired 25 shots at the man's back, killing him.

The other two Marines were injured, but alive. Lance Cpl. Hampton was spitting up blood and had shrapnel embedded in his left leg, knee, arm and face, according to a military transcript. Pfc. Miller's arms had been perforated by shrapnel. Yet both Marines struggled to their feet and staggered back toward the corner.

"Cpl. Dunham was in the middle of the explosion," Pfc. Miller told a Marine officer weeks later, after he and Lance Cpl. Hampton were evacuated to the U.S. to convalesce. "If it was not for him, none of us would be here. He took the impact of the explosion."

At first, Lance Cpl. Mark Edward Dean, a 22-year-old mortarman, didn't recognize the wounded Marine being loaded into the back of his Humvee. Blood from shrapnel wounds in the Marine's head and neck had covered his face. Then Lance Cpl. Dean spotted the tattoo on his chest -- an Ace of Spades and a skull -- and realized he was looking at one of his closest friends, Cpl. Dunham. A volunteer firefighter back home in Owasso, Okla., Lance Cpl. Dean says he knew from his experience with car wrecks that his friend had a better chance of surviving if he stayed calm.

"You're going to be all right," Lance Cpl. Dean remembers saying as the Humvee sped back to camp. "We're going to get you home."

When the battalion was at its base in Twentynine Palms, Calif., the two Marines had played pool and hung out with Lance Cpl. Dean's wife, Becky Jo, at the couple's nearby home. Once in a while, Lance Cpl. Dean says they'd round up friends, drive to Las Vegas and lose some money at the roulette tables. Shortly before the battalion left Kuwait for Iraq, Lance Cpl. Dean ran short of cash. He says Cpl. Dunham bought him a 550-minute phone card so he could call Becky Jo. He used every minute.

At battalion headquarters in al Qa'im, Chaplain David Slater was in his makeshift chapel -- in a stripped-down Iraqi train car with red plastic chairs as pews -- when he heard an Army Blackhawk helicopter take off. The 46-year-old Navy chaplain from Lincoln, Neb. knew that meant the shock-trauma platoon would soon receive fresh casualties.

Shortly afterward, the helicopter arrived. Navy corpsmen and Marines carried Cpl. Dunham's stretcher 200 feet to the medical tent, its green floor and white walls emitting a rubbery scent, clumps of stethoscopes hanging like bananas over olive-drab trunks of chest tubes, bandages and emergency airway tubes.

The bearers rested the corporal's stretcher on a pair of black metal sawhorses. A wounded Iraqi fighter was stripped naked on the next stretcher -- standard practice for all patients, according to the medical staff, to ensure no injury goes unnoticed. The Iraqi had plastic cuffs on his ankles and was on morphine to quiet him, according to medical personnel who were there.

When a wounded Marine is conscious, Chaplain Slater makes small talk -- asks his name and hometown -- to help keep the patient calm and alert even in the face of often-horrific wounds. Chaplain Slater says he talked to Cpl. Dunham, held his hand and prayed. But he saw no sign that the corporal heard a word. After five minutes or so, he says, he moved on to another Marine.

At the same time, the medical team worked to stabilize Cpl. Dunham. One grenade fragment had penetrated the left side of his skull not far behind his eye, says Navy Cmdr. Ed Hessel, who treated him. A second entered the brain slightly higher and further toward the back of his head. A third punctured his neck.

Cmdr. Hessel, a 44-year-old emergency-room doctor from Eugene, Ore., quickly concluded that the corporal was "unarousable." A calm, bespectacled man, he says he wanted to relieve the corporal's brain and body of the effort required to breathe. And he wanted to be sure the corporal had no violent physical reactions that might add to the pressure on his already swollen brain.

Navy Lt. Ted Hering, a 27-year-old critical-care nurse from San Diego, inserted an intravenous drip and fed in drugs to sedate the corporal, paralyze his muscles and blunt the gag response in his throat while a breathing tube was inserted and manual ventilator attached. The Marine's heart rate and blood pressure stabilized, according to Cmdr. Hessel. But a field hospital in the desert didn't have the resources to help him any further.

So Cpl. Dunham was put on another Blackhawk to take him to the Seventh Marines' base at Al Asad, a transfer point for casualties heading on to the military surgical hospital in Baghdad. During the flight, the corporal lay on the top stretcher. Beneath him was the Iraqi, with two tubes protruding from his chest to keep his lungs from collapsing. Lt. Hering stood next to the stretchers, squeezing a plastic bag every four to five seconds to press air into Cpl. Dunham's lungs.

The Iraqi, identified in battalion medical records only as POW#1, repeatedly asked for water until six or seven minutes before landing, when Cpl. Dunham's blood-drenched head bandage burst, sending a red cascade through the mesh stretcher and onto the Iraqi's face below. After that, the man remained quiet, and kept his eyes and mouth clenched shut, says the nurse, Lt. Hering.

The Army air crew made the trip in 25 minutes, their fastest run ever, according to the pilot, and skimmed no higher than 50 feet off the ground to avoid changes in air pressure that might put additional strain on Cpl. Dunham's brain.

When the Blackhawk touched down at Al Asad, Cpl. Dunham was turned over to new caretakers. The Blackhawk promptly headed back to al Qa'im. More patients were waiting; 10 Marines from the Third Battalion were wounded on April 14, along with a translator.

At 11:45 p.m. that day, Deb and Dan Dunham were at home in Scio, N.Y., a town of 1,900, when they got the phone call all military parents dread. It was a Marine lieutenant telling them their son had sustained shrapnel wounds to the head, was unconscious and in critical condition.

Mr. Dunham, 43, an Air Force veteran, works in the shipping department of a company that makes industrial heaters, and Mrs. Dunham, 44, teaches home economics. She remembers helping her athletic son, the oldest of four, learn to spell as a young boy by playing "PIG" and "HORSE" -- traditional basketball shooting games -- and expanding the games to include other words. He never left home or hung up the phone without telling his mother, "I love you," she says.

The days that followed were filled with uncertainty, fear and hope. The Dunhams knew their son was in a hospital in Baghdad, then in Germany, where surgeons removed part of his skull to relieve the swelling inside. At one point doctors upgraded his condition from critical to serious.

On April 21, the Marines gave the Dunhams plane tickets from Rochester to Washington, and put them up at the National Naval Medical Center in Bethesda, Md., where their son was going to be transferred. Mrs. Dunham brought along the first Harry Potter novel, so she and her husband could take turns reading to their son, just to let him know they were there.

When Cpl. Dunham arrived that night, the doctors told the couple he had taken a turn for the worse, picking up a fever on the flight from Germany. After an hour by their son's side, Mr. Dunham says he had a "gut feeling" that the outlook was bleak. Mrs. Dunham searched for signs of hope, planning to ask relatives to bring two more Harry Potter books, in case they finished the first one. Doctors urged the Dunhams to get some rest.

They were getting dressed the next morning when the intensive-care unit called to say the hospital was sending a car for them. "Jason's condition is very, very grim," Mrs. Dunham remembers a doctor saying. "I have to tell you the outlook isn't very promising."


A Marine kisses a helmet standing in honor of Cpl. Jason L. Dunham during a service at Camp Al Qaim, Iraq.


She says doctors told her the shrapnel had traveled down the side of his brain, and the damage was irreversible. He would always be on a respirator. He would never hear his parents or know they were by his side. Another operation to relieve pressure on his brain had little chance of succeeding and a significant chance of killing him.

Once he joined the Marines, Cpl. Dunham put his father in charge of medical decisions and asked that he not be kept on life support if there was no hope of recovery, says Mr. Dunham. He says his son told him, "Please don't leave me like that."

The Dunhams went for a walk on the hospital grounds. When they returned to the room, Cpl. Dunham's condition had deteriorated, his mother says. Blood in his urine signaled failing kidneys, and one lung had collapsed as the other was filling with fluid. Mrs. Dunham says they took the worsening symptoms as their son's way of telling them they should follow through on his wishes,.

At the base in al Qa'im, Second Lt. Robinson, 24, of Kenosha, Wis., gathered the men of Cpl. Dunham's platoon in the sleeping area, a spread of cots, backpacks, CD players and rifles, its plywood walls papered with magazine shots of scantily clad women. The lieutenant says he told the Marines of the Dunhams' decision to remove their son's life support in two hours' time.

Lance Cpl. Dean wasn't the only Marine who cried. He says he prayed that some miracle would happen in the next 120 minutes. He prayed that God would touch his friend and wake him up so he could live the life he had wanted to lead.

In Bethesda, the Dunhams spent a couple more hours with their son. Marine Corps Commandant Michael Hagee arrived and pinned the Purple Heart, awarded to those wounded in battle, on his pillow. Mrs. Dunham cried on Gen. Hagee's shoulder. The Dunhams stepped out of the room while the doctors removed the ventilator.

At 4:43 p.m. on April 22, 2004, Marine Cpl. Jason L. Dunham died.

Six days later, Third Battalion gathered in the parking lot outside the al Qa'im command post for psalms and ceremony. In a traditional combat memorial, one Marine plunged a rifle, bayonet-first, into a sandbag. Another placed a pair of tan combat boots in front, and a third perched a helmet on the rifle's stock. Lance Cpl. Dean told those assembled about a trip to Las Vegas the two men and Becky Jo Dean had taken in January, not long before the battalion left for the Persian Gulf. Chatting in a hotel room, the corporal told his friends he was planning to extend his enlistment and stay in Iraq for the battalion's entire tour. "You're crazy for extending," Lance Cpl. Dean recalls saying. "Why?"

He says Cpl. Dunham responded: "I want to make sure everyone makes it home alive. I want to be sure you go home to your wife alive."

Ellie

[thedrifter]

Marine Who Saved Buddies Gets Medal Of Honor
Only Second Medal Of Honor In Iraq War

UPDATED: 11:54 am EST January 11, 2007

WHITE HOUSE -- A Marine who fell on a hand grenade and gave his life for his buddies in Iraq was recognized Thursday morning at the White House.

Cpl. Jason Dunham was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor, the nation's highest military decoration. His parents, Deb and Dan Dunham, were given the medal at a White House ceremony.

"On a dusty road in western Iraq, Corporal Dunham gave his own life so that the men under his command might live," President George W. Bush said. "This morning it's my privilege to recognize Corporal Dunham's devotion to the Corps and country."

Dunham was a 22-year-old machine gunner from Scio, N.Y. He was manning a checkpoint near Karabilah, near the Syrian border in Iraq, on April 14, 2004.

"While leading a patrol of his Marines in Karabilah, Corporal Dunham received a report that a Marine convoy had been ambushed. He led his squad to the site of the attack -- where he and his men stopped a convoy of cars trying to make an escape," according to the Corps press release. "As he moved to search one of the vehicles, an insurgent jumped out and grabbed him by the throat. The corporal engaged the insurgent in hand-to-hand combat."

The Army Times reported that Dunham then shouted to the other Marines, "No. No. No. Watch his hand."

He threw himself on the live grenade that was dropped by the insurgent during their struggle. Dunham used his Kevlar helmet and body to smother the blast.

"By his selflessness, Corporal Dunham saved the lives of two of his men, and showed the world what it means to be a Marine," Bush said.

He survived the blast but died a week later at a U.S. hospital.

"As a Marine, Jason was taught that leaders put the needs of their men before their own. He was taught that while America's founding truths are self-evident, they also need to be defended by good men and women willing to stand up to determined enemies," Bush said. "As a leader of a rifle squad in Iraq, Corporal Dunham lived by the values he had been taught. He was a guy everybody looked up to. He was a Marine's Marine who led by example."

Bush praised Dunham for being the kind of person who would stop patrols to play street soccer with the Iraqi schoolchildren.

"He was the guy who signed on for an extra two months in Iraq so he could stay with his squad. As he explained it, he wanted to 'make sure that everyone makes it home alive,'" Bush said. "Corporal Dunham took that promise seriously and would give his own life to make it good. "

Bush also praised Dunham's courage when the president dedicated a new Marine museum in November.

Dunham was only the second member of the U.S. military who served in the Iraq war to be selected for the nation's highest military honor.

Bush announced in November that Dunham would be awarded the Medal of Honor. The announcement was made on Nov. 10, on what would have been Dunham's 25th birthday. It also marked the 231st anniversary of the U.S. Marine Corps.

Dunhams family and friends have a Web site and a memorial scholarship fund in his name.

Ellie

[thedrifter]

President George W. Bush's Remarks At Medal Of Honor Ceremony

POSTED: 10:57 am EST January 11, 2007
REMARKS BY THE PRESIDENT

AT PRESENTATION OF THE MEDAL OF HONOR

TO CORPORAL JASON DUNHAM

The East Room

9:55 A.M. EST

THE PRESIDENT: Welcome to the White House.

The Medal of Honor is the highest award for valor a President can bestow. The Medal is given for gallantry in the face of an enemy attack that is above and beyond the call of duty. The Medal is part of a cherished American tradition that began in this house with the signature of President Abraham Lincoln.

Since World War II, more than half of those who have been awarded the Medal of Honor have lost their lives in the action that earned it. Corporal Jason Dunham belongs to this select group. On a dusty road in western Iraq, Corporal Dunham gave his own life so that the men under his command might live. This morning it's my privilege to recognize Corporal Dunham's devotion to the Corps and country -- and to present his family with the Medal of Honor.

I welcome the Vice President's presence, Secretary of Defense Bob Gates, Senator Ted Stevens, Senator John McCain, Senator Craig Thomas -- I don't know if you say former Marine, or Marine. Marine. Congressman Bill Young and his wife, Beverly; Congressman Duncan Hunter; Congressman John Kline, Marine; Congressman Randy Kuhl, Corporal Dunham's family's United States Congressman is with us. Secretary Don Winter; General Pete Pace; General Jim Conway and Annette; Sergeant Major John Estrada, Sergeant Major of the Marine Corps.

I appreciate the Medal of Honor recipients who have joined us: Barney Barnum, Bob Foley, Bob Howard, Gary Littrell, Al Rascon, Brian Thacker. Thanks for joining us.

I appreciate the Dunhams who have joined us, and will soon join me on this platform to receive the honor on behalf of their son: Dan and Deb Dunham; Justin Dunham and Kyle Dunham, brothers; Katie Dunham, sister; and a lot of other family members who have joined us today.

I appreciate the Chaplain for the Navy -- excuse me, for the Marine Corps. I didn't mean to insult you.

I thank Major Trent Gibson -- he was Jason Dunham's commander -- company commander; First Lieutenant Brian Robinson, who was his platoon commander. I welcome all the Marines from "Kilo-3-7" -- thanks for coming, and thanks for serving.

Long before he earned our nation's highest Medal Jason Dunham made himself -- made a name for himself among his friends and neighbors. He was born in a small town in upstate New York. He was a normal kind of fellow, he loved sports. He went to Scio Central School, and he starred on the Tiger basketball, soccer, and baseball teams. And by the way, he still holds the record for the highest batting average in a single season at .414. He was popular with his teammates, and that could be a problem for his mom. You see, she never quite knew how many people would be showing up for dinner, whether it be her family, or the entire basketball team.

He grew up with the riches far more important than money: He had a dad who loved to take his boys on a ride with him when he made his rounds on the dairy farm where he worked. His mom was a school teacher. She figured out the best way to improve her son's spelling was to combine his love for sports with her ability to educate. And so she taught him the words from his reading list when they played the basketball game of "horse." He had two brothers and a sister who adored him.

He had a natural gift for leadership, and a compassion that led him to take others under his wing. The Marine Corps took the best of this young man, and made it better. As a Marine, he was taught that honor, courage and commitment are not just words. They're core values for a way of life that elevates service above self. As a Marine, Jason was taught that leaders put the needs of their men before their own. He was taught that while America's founding truths are self-evident, they also need to be defended by good men and women willing to stand up to determined enemies.

As a leader of a rifle squad in Iraq, Corporal Dunham lived by the values he had been taught. He was a guy everybody looked up to. He was a Marine's Marine who led by example. He was the kind of person who would stop patrols to play street soccer with the Iraqi schoolchildren. He was the guy who signed on for an extra two months in Iraq so he could stay with his squad. As he explained it, he wanted to "make sure that everyone makes it home alive." Corporal Dunham took that promise seriously and would give his own life to make it good.

In April 2004, during an attack near Iraq's Syrian border, Corporal Dunham was assaulted by an insurgent who jumped out of a vehicle that was about to be searched. As Corporal Dunham wrestled the man to the ground, the insurgent rolled out a grenade he had been hiding. Corporal Dunham did not hesitate. He jumped on the grenade, using his helmet and body to absorb the blast. Although he survived the initial explosion, he did not survive his wounds. But by his selflessness, Corporal Dunham saved the lives of two of his men, and showed the world what it means to be a Marine.

Deb Dunham calls the Marine Corps her son's second family and she means that literally. Deb describes her son's relationship to his men this way: "Jay was part guardian angel, part big brother, and all Marine." She remembers her son calling from the barracks, and then passing the phone to one of his Marines, saying, "I've got a guy here who just needs to talk to a mom." Now it's the Marines who comfort her. On special days, like Christmas or Mother's Day or her birthday, Deb has learned the day will not pass without one of Jason's fellow Marines calling to check on her.

With this Medal we pay tribute to the courage and leadership of a man who represents the best of young Americans. With this Medal we ask the God who commands us to love our neighbor as ourselves to wrap his arms around the family of Corporal Jason Dunham, a Marine who is not here today because he lived that commandment to the fullest.

I now invite the Dunhams to join me on the stage. And, Colonel, please read the citation.

(The citation is read. The Medal is presented.) (Applause.)

END 10:04 A.M. EST

Ellie

[meanmattgreen]

I am currently reading a book about this magnificent Marine. Michael M. Phillips wrote A Gift of Valor, it's a great book and memorial to Corporal Dunham. On the 18th of Jan. I am officially a poolee, I will make my trip to meps and get my ship date, but just wanted to say, I hope i can be half of the Marine this guy was.

[thedrifter]

Medal of Honor for Scio, NY Marine

First Long War Marine to receive Medal of Honor

Corporal Jason Dunham

Medal of Honor presentation

by Collin Bishop, Special Projects Producer WGRZ

Updated: 1/11/2007 2:33:05 PM

Buffalo, NY - The nation's highest military honor was awarded posthumously today to Corporal Jason Dunham, a Marine from Scio, New York.

The following is a brief description from the Pentagon of what Cpl. Dunham did to earn the Medal of Honor.

From the Pentagon:

Cpl. Dunham's squad was conducting a reconnaissance mission in Karabilah, Iraq, on April 14, 2004, when a nearby convoy returning to base was ambushed.

Hearing gunfire, Dunham and his squad rushed over to help suppress the attack. He led a team a few blocks south of the immediate ambush site and ordered his squad to block seven vehicles attempting to leave.

As they approached, an Iraqi insurgent jumped out of one of the vehicles and grabbed Dunham by the throat. As Dunham fought the enemy hand-to-hand, two Marines moved in to help.

Dunham noticed that the enemy fighter had a grenade in his hand, and ordered his Marines to move back as he wrestled the insurgent to the ground. The enemy dropped the live grenade and without hesitating Dunham took off his Kevlar helmet, covered the grenade with it, and threw himself on top to smother the blast.

Dunham's actions saved the lives of the other two Marines. Dunham will be the second serviceman and first Marine in the Global War on Terror to receive the Medal of Honor.

In 2004, Schumer wrote to the President asking him to bestow the Nation's highest military honor on the native New Yorker. Senator Schumer released this statement today:

"Corporal Dunham unflinchingly gave what Lincoln deemed 'the last full measure of devotion' and his heroism reflects the true spirit of selflessness, leadership, and courage that the Medal of Honor was established to recognize. Corporal Dunham laid down his life by shielding members of his unit from danger by throwing himself on a live grenade, an act of unbelievable bravery and selflessness that saved the lives of at least two fellow Marines. I was proud to support his nomination and want to personally congratulate his family on behalf of all New Yorkers."

Ellie

[ctiley64]

January 06, 2007
A legacy of valor



During one of his stints as an embedded reporter with Lima Company, Third Battalion, Seventh Marines, Wall Street Journal reporter Michael Phillips tumbled to the story of Marine Cpl. Jason Dunham (photo above by Mark Edward Dean). In 2004 the Journal published Phillips's riveting account of Corporal Dunham's story: "In combat, Marine put theory to test, comrades believe." Phillips subsequently expanded the Journal story into The Gift of Valor, published in paperback last year.

On Thursday President Bush will present the parents of Cpl. Dunham with the Medal of Honor. President Bush announced the award at the opening of the Marine Corps Museum in Quantico this past November. In the photo above (taken by Phillips), Major Trent Gibson comforted Cpl. Dunham's mother Deb at the museum after the news. Phillips reported the announcement of the award at the time:
"As far back as boot camp, his superiors spotted the quality that would mark this young American as an outstanding Marine: His willingness to put the needs of others before his own," Mr. Bush said. "As long as we have Marines like Cpl. Dunham, America will never fear for its liberty."

On patrol on April 14, 2004, Cpl. Dunham found himself engaged in hand-to-hand combat with an insurgent near the Syrian border. When his attacker dropped a live hand grenade, the Marine made the split-second decision to cover the weapon with his own helmet, shielding two of his men from its full explosive force.

The other Marines staggered away from the blast, injured but alive. Cpl. Dunham suffered deep shrapnel wounds to the brain. He survived eight days in a coma, only to die with his parents at his bedside. He was 22 years old.

"There's not a day that goes by that I don't think about it," said Cpl. William Hampton, one of the Marines fighting beside Cpl. Dunham when the grenade exploded. The explosion left Cpl. Hampton, a 24-year-old from Woodinville, Wash., peppered with shrapnel. "I see my arms, I see my leg. I'm always reminded of it."
In today's Wall Street Journal, Phillips updates the story with a heart-rending profile of the other Marine whose life Cpl. Dunham saved, Cpl. Kelly Miller: "How do you repay a hero's sacrifice?" (I'm afraid that a subscription may be required -- go buy today's Journal). Cpl. Miller, though comforted, encouraged and "adopted" by Deb Dunham, is tortured by survivor's guilt. Phillips's superb story should serve as a reminder that Cpl. Dunham's sacrifice -- as that of so many others -- is one that we will all have to redeem.

OLE SARG I do agree....

Ellie

I totally agree. Any Marine who dies for his company, or country should be awarded. After all, there lives are spent training and fighting for all of us. A very good friend of mine from church, (also a Marine) was killed in action a year ago. Josh Klinger may have only been a Private to some people but to us he will always be the fallen hero who gave his life for us. He and all his fallen brothers will be sadly missed for the brave job they did for the country they protected. Rest in peace to all of them and may there families find comfort in knowing that they gave their lives doing something they were proud of.

ctiley64

[thedrifter]

Posted on Fri, Jan. 12, 2007

WASHINGTON
Fallen Marine awarded Medal of Honor

Cpl. Jason L. Dunham died in Iraq in 2004, after he threw his Kevlar helmet and body on an insurgent's grenade, saving the lives of two Marines.
BY JOHANNA NEUMAN
Los Angeles Times Service

WASHINGTON - President Bush awarded the Medal of Honor Thursday to Marine Cpl. Jason L. Dunham, who on a dusty road in western Iraq in 2004 threw his Kevlar helmet and his body on an insurgent's grenade, saving the lives of two Marines while sacrificing his own.

Established by a joint resolution of Congress during the Civil War and presented 3,462 times, the Medal of Honor is awarded for gallantry in the face of enemy attack that is above and beyond the call of duty.

Dunham, who was 22 when he died, is the first Marine to earn the medal since 1970 and the second service member, after Army Sgt. Paul Ray Smith, to receive it for bravery in Iraq.

Bush praised Dunham's heroism during a White House ceremony Thursday.

''By his selflessness, Cpl. Dunham saved the lives of two of his men and showed the world what it means to be a Marine,'' he said.

As her husband, Dan, looked on, Deb Dunham, Jason's mother, fought back tears as Bush presented her with the citation.

Bush had announced last November, at the dedication of the National Museum of the Marine Corps at Quantico, Va., that a Marine was being awarded the nation's highest military honor -- prompting a booming ''Oo-rah!'' from the largely Marine audience.

On April 14, 2004, Dunham, a member of the 3rd Battalion, 7th Marine Regiment, based in Twentynine Palms, Calif., was leading a 14-man foot patrol in the town of Karabilah, near the Syrian border.

Radio reports indicated that a nearby convoy of Marines had been hit by a roadside bomb. Dunham and his troops raced to the scene.

''Cpl. Dunham was assaulted by an insurgent who jumped out of a vehicle that was about to be searched,'' Bush said Thursday. ``As Cpl. Dunham wrestled the man to the ground, the insurgent rolled out a grenade he had been hiding.

Cpl. Dunham did not hesitate. He jumped on the grenade, using his helmet and body to absorb the blast. Although he survived the initial explosion, he did not survive his wounds.''

Only weeks before the incident, Marine 2nd Lt. Brian Robinson told The Wall Street Journal in 2004, he and Dunham had discussed theories on how to survive a hand-grenade attack.

Dunham said he believed that his Kevlar helmet would stop a blast, according to Robinson.

In a letter recommending Dunham for the Medal of Honor, Lt. Col. Matthew Lopez, the battalion commander, wrote that the young Marine ``clearly understood the situation and attempted to block the blast of the grenade from his squad members.''

''His personal action was far beyond the call of duty and saved the lives of his fellow Marines,'' Lopez wrote.

Unconscious and suffering irreversible brain damage due to shrapnel, Dunham was transferred to a U.S. military hospital in Germany and then to the National Naval Medical Center in Bethesda, Md.

His parents -- his mother is a home economics teacher and his father a factory worker in Scio, N.Y. -- were at his bedside when he died eight days after the attack, grateful to a doctor in Iraq who held their son's hand as he lay in a field hospital, believing that the gesture of kindness kept him alive long enough for them to reach him.

''That's a gift to us,'' Dan Dunham has said.

Ellie