I'm currently reading
the autobiography of one of my cousins, who earned a Congressional Medal of Honor at the age of 17 when he threw himself onto a grenade and pulled another grenade beneath him, saving the lives of three nearby soldiers.
I've known his story for years through family lore and a book my great-great aunt wrote about our family, which I read multiple times as a child, but hearing his perspective of how and why he (fraudulently, having lied about his age) enlisted at 14 years of age is so gripping. He was incensed by the attack on Pearl Harbor and driven by grief at having lost his own father several years before to cancer. To think he enlisted when he was only two years older than our son Finn is now astonishes me. He was full of valor, wild passion, and grief--and he was so resourceful.
From the prologue:
"Having already borne the weight of my life's biggest loss, I was not afraid to face whatever awaited me on Red Beach One, Iwo Jima. I had no way of knowing that in a matter of a few short hours I would make the most important decision of my life and in the lives of three members of my fire team. The choice would be mine: either I could die alone or all of us would die together."
Can you imagine being 17 years old and realizing you are about to die? And that by pulling grenades under you, you can save someone else's life? And then being able to do that? That is what I call true grit.
Miraculously, Jack survived and went on to a life full of recognition and adventure.
