When Drums Begin to Roll, a Thin Gray Line of Heroes Will Step Out

Since the days of Dwight D. Eisenhower, presidents have invited the nation’s most distinguished military heroes, those who have won the Medal of Honor, to share in their inaugurations--perhaps hoping that the soldiers’ matchless luster will reflect on them.

This year is no exception, as 146 of the 225 living Medal of Honor recipients gather in Washington to be honored at a variety of inaugural dinners, receptions and balls.

Most have long since left military service. Except for biennial convocations, they store their star-shaped medals and sky-blue ribbons in engraved boxes and seldom talk about their deeds of gallantry. But this week the holders of the nation’s highest military honor proudly wear their decorations and allow the country to salute them.

Some, like financier Jack Jacobs of Sherman Oaks, devote their energies to their new careers and recall their glorious and terrifying wartime action only when thrown together with the select society of Medal of Honor holders.

At a reception Wednesday night sponsored by the Veterans of Foreign Wars, Jacobs, executive vice president of AutoFinance Group Inc., wanted only to talk about his business--buying and selling consumer auto loans.

For Jacobs, the events of March 9, 1968, in Vietnam are part of the dim and distant past.

Despite profuse bleeding from head wounds which impaired his vision, Jacobs, with complete disregard for his safety, returned under intense fire to evacuate a seriously wounded adviser to the safety of a wooded area where he administered life-saving first aid. He then returned through heavy automatic weapons fire to evacuate the wounded company commander.

On three separate occasions, Jacobs contacted and drove off Viet Cong squads who were searching for allied wounded and weapons, single-handedly killing three and wounding several others. His gallant actions and extraordinary heroism saved the lives of one U.S. adviser and 13 allied soldiers.

Other Medal of Honor recipients seemingly cannot let go of their wartime experiences. Retired Army Sgt. Roy P. Benavidez of El Campo, Tex., might be considered a professional military hero. His business card carries a replica of the Medal of Honor, an American flag and the words “Airborne All the Way” and “Be All You can Be.”

Benavidez, who in 1981 received the most-recent Medal of Honor for valor in Vietnam, complained that recent movies have been unfair to the Vietnam veteran and the Latino veteran in particular.

“Hollywood has really ambushed the Vietnam vet,” Benavidez said.

On his second trip with the wounded, he was clubbed from behind by an enemy soldier. In the ensuing hand-to-hand combat, he sustained additional wounds to his head and arms before killing his adversary. He then continued under devastating fire to carry the wounded to the helicopter. Upon reaching the aircraft, he spotted and killed two enemy soldiers. . . .

Only then, in extremely serious condition from numerous wounds and loss of blood, did he allow himself to be pulled into the extraction aircraft. Sgt. Benavidez’ gallant choice to join voluntarily his comrades who were in critical straits, to expose himself constantly to withering enemy fire, and his refusal to be stopped despite numerous severe wounds, saved the lives of at least eight men.

The Medal of Honor, often incorrectly referred to as the Congressional Medal of Honor because it was authorized by Congress, is the nation’s highest award to its servicemen. Standards for its issue are stricter than for any other decoration, requiring wartime action “so outstanding that it clearly distinguishes his gallantry beyond the call of duty from lesser forms of bravery.”

Like the Vatican’s standards for beatification, it requires “incontestable” testimony from two living eyewitnesses. The recipient must have risked his life and must have acted when inaction would have subjected him to no justifiable criticism.

In all, 3,410 Americans have been granted the distinction, but more than half of those were honored for service in the Civil War and the Indian campaigns, when standards were less stringent.

The Medal of Honor was awarded 127 times in World War I, 469 times in World War II, 131 times in Korea and 238 times for service in Vietnam.

In this century, more than half of the decorations have been awarded posthumously.

Jeff DeBlanc, of St. Martinsville, La., has attended every inauguration since 1961 with his Medal of Honor peers. Today he is a physicist with South Central Bell Telephone Co.

“The inaugural is a privilege they extend” to ribbon holders, said DeBlanc, a former Marine Corps fighter pilot who served in the South Pacific in World War II. “It’s a tradition they handed down from other administrations.”

DeBlanc said he prefers not to talk about his war record or his decoration. “I never discuss it. That’s past history,” he said. “My own children don’t know much about it. That ended in 1945.”

Although his escort mission was fulfilled upon the safe retirement of the bombers, 1st Lt. DeBlanc courageously remained on the scene despite a rapidly diminishing fuel supply and, boldly challenging the enemy’s superior number of float planes, fought a valiant battle against terrific odds, seizing the tactical advantage and striking repeatedly to destroy three of the hostile aircraft and to disperse the remainder.

Prepared to maneuver his damaged plane back to base, he had climbed aloft and set his course when he discovered two Zeros closing in behind. Undaunted, he opened fire and blasted both Zeros from the sky in a short, bitterly fought action which resulted in such hopeless damage to his own plane that he was forced to bail out at a perilously low altitude atop the trees on enemy-held Kolombangara.

Receiving the Medal of Honor entitles one to free transport on military aircraft, to an additional $200 a month in pension benefits and to free transportation and lodging for such events as the inaugural.

The group has its own society, which has offices aboard the retired aircraft carrier Intrepid, which is tied up in New York Harbor along the Hudson River.

“You take every advantage you can of getting together with the other recipients,” said Sgt. Maj. Jon Cavaiani, one of only two dozen holders of the Medal of Honor still on active duty in the armed forces. “When I got it in 1974, there were 465 recipients alive. Now there are only 225.”

The enemy forces advanced in two ranks, first firing a heavy volume of small arms automatic weapons and rocket-propelled grenade fire while the second rank continuously threw a steady barrage of hand grenades at the beleaguered force. Sgt. Cavaiani returned a heavy barrage of small arms and hand grenade fire on the assaulting enemy force but was unable to slow them down. He ordered the remaining platoon members to attempt to escape while he provided them with cover fire.

With one last courageous exertion, Sgt. Cavaiani recovered a machine gun, stood up, completely exposing himself to the heavy enemy fire directed at him and began firing the machine gun in a sweeping motion along the two ranks of advancing enemy soldiers.

While inflicting severe losses on the advancing enemy force, Sgt. Cavaiani was wounded numerous times. Sgt. Cavaiani’s conspicuous gallantry, extraordinary heroism and intrepidity at the risk of his life, above and beyond the call of duty, were in keeping with the highest traditions of the military service and reflect great credit upon himself and the U.S. Army.