Original subtitles

More than 40 million Americans have served

in the United States armed forces.

Of those, fewer than 3,600 have been awarded the military's highest honor.

Where did we find such men?

We find them where we've always found them.

In our villages and towns,

on our city streets, in our shops, and on our farms.

Summoned a degree of courage

that stirs wonder and respect

and an overpowering pride in all of us.

It recognizes gallantry that goes

above and beyond the call of duty.

We may not always hear of their success,

but they are there, in the thick of the fight, in the dark of night,

achieving their mission.

Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States.

My fellow Americans,

powerful and resourceful gangsters have banded together

to make war upon the whole human race.

We didn't want to get in it,

but we are in it,

and we're going to fight it

with everything we've got.

World War II really... truly showcased who we were as a nation.

It changed who we were as a country. It changed our identity.

I am an American. I come from Brooklyn, New York.

I am an American. Fairview, Montana.

I am an American. I come from Lancaster, Pennsylvania.

- I am an American. - I am an American.

I am an American.

They're called "The Greatest Generation" because everyone fought.

If you weren't out there wearing a uniform, fighting,

you were out there in the factories,

building equipment so that these individuals could

successfully and safely accomplish their mission.

I have said, not once, but many times

that I have seen war...

and that I hate war.

After years of war, and suffering, and degradation,

the Italian people are, at last, coming to the day of liberation

from their real enemies, the Nazis.

We must drive the Germans out of Italy

as we have driven them out of Tunisia and Sicily.

It was felt that we needed to knock Italy out of the war,

to deprive Germany of one of its last allies,

so we headed for Anzio in January of '44.

The idea was that this invasion would unhinge the German lines

and eventually lead the Allies to Rome.

Unfortunately, they got bottled up by the Germans.

It just turned into a big killing ground, a big battle of attrition.

They were losing about 800 men a day in this Anzio beachhead.

Just from shelling, from sniping.

From, you know, just random German fire.

So they're kind of stuck there, literally shrinking day by day by day,

and the guys are like, "We don't know how we're gonna get out of here.

How can possibly break out, because our force is getting smaller and smaller."

So, morale is definitely... suffering.

The Germans are just trying to contain this beachhead

and make the Allies pay as dearly for the ground as they can

without being able to expand it.

The only way to rescue yourself

from this German defensive fire was to move forward,

disrupt the German line, and push them back.

Fortunately, the Germans are getting smaller and smaller, too,

because one thing the Americans have massive superiority in,

on the Anzio beachhead, is artillery.

The German strength was thinning because of casualties,

so we thought there's a good opportunity to break out of this beachhead,

so that they could move on Rome.

Well, Sergeant Antolak was part of a large operation

that was trying to break out of the beachhead,

trying to penetrate the defensive lines of the Germans

and finally open up that path to Rome.

The key to breaking the encirclement

around Anzio was the town of Cisterna.

Once you got to Cisterna, there were a lot of directions you could go

and you really had burst out of the confinement of the beachhead.

Sergeant Antolak's platoon was going out first.

They'd had a rough day on the 23rd.

They'd been fighting through the defenses, they had made progress.

They got up to an important railroad embankment on the morning of the 24th.

They had taken the time... They were protected behind the embankment,

so they could get down there under cover and regroup,

get some food, stock up on ammunition.

Sergeant Antolak was a squad leader,

so I'm sure he had his ten or so men around him,

and was telling them what they were gonna do for that morning,

and the platoon was getting together and the company was getting ready to jump off,

really into the teeth of Cisterna's defenses.

See anything?

I can see there's still no cover once we leave this wall.

Sylvester Antolak,

his story is one of those that's just incredible.

Honestly, I kinda look at it as saying, like, this is not true.

No way a human being could go through what he went through and do what he did.

That's why I just find it funny that

I am part of that society as a Medal of Honor recipient.

There's no way what I did is comparable to what this incredible human being did.

He enlisted in the Army in July 1941,

before the war has really kicked off, before Pearl Harbor, so he's obviously

patriotic and thinking about the future and the necessity to serve.

This is a modest man

from a small farming community in Ohio, he's of Polish heritage.

He grew up on a farm.

Ten brothers and sisters.

Growing up in that large family, you have to learn how to work with each other.

You learn that you have this love for your brothers and sisters.

He brought that with him to the fight that these are my brothers next to me

and I'm not going to

let them die here today.

Sergeant Antolak and his men

have experienced an existence

where they're under constant threat.

They're just trying to get through each moment they're under fire,

each hour, each day,

each night. It's miserable.

They're just trying to survive.

This is an infantryman's existence at its very toughest.

The night before, they had fought

a horrendous battle all night and it took quite a few casualties.

You know, the next morning, it's...

they got orders from high command saying, "Hey, go out there and

cross over this railroad, take over this town, and kick out the Germans."

You just saw some really horrible things and you lost a lot of friends, and...

you didn't have time to take a breath,

and you're back at it.

I get a smoke?

The waiting's the hardest part.

What's the easy part?

When I was ten,

there was this bully in my school.

He bullied everybody.

So, I guess,

one day it was my turn.

I knew he was waiting for me after school.

I remember staring at the clock,

hoping that the day would never end.

But, uh...

it did.

And, uh...

then I pissed in my pants.

And, uh...

I went out to face him.

But my brothers were already beating on that poor kid.

Krauts are just bullies.

Leading soldiers in combat is really

the greatest privilege and the most awesome of responsibilities.

It can put entire units, entire armies at risk.

At the level of Sergeant Antolak's leadership,

he realizes that

every direction that he gives, every order,

could result in someone being exposed to enemy fire.

All right, First Squad, out!

Sergeant Antolak and his unit are part of the spearhead

that's supposed to lead the Third Infantry Division

in an encirclement of Cisterna.

The Germans had machine gun

firing points scattered all through the whole area in depth.

The Germans know how important it is. It's a major stronghold.

By breaking through at Cisterna, the American armies can completely unhinge

the German defensive line, so they can take Rome.

There was a lot of symbolic significance of Rome.

It would be the first major axis capital to fall.

But first, they have to take Cisterna.

The roughest part of the battle was about to come.

Germans have a lot of advantages.

When you're on the defensive, you have already been there for a while,

you understand the terrain,

you've picked out the best places to set up your security,

so they absolutely have the advantage in this situation.

They're across.

Move out!

Yes, sir.

Not everybody loves each other in a combat unit,

but they all have to rely on one another.

Your life depends on everybody else in your unit.

Every soldier in there has to rely on the other guy to do his job.

Contact!

Those sons of bitches waited to cut us in half!

A surprise is everything in small unit actions.

It's common for the enemy to let the lead element go through,

and then the enemy can ambush them.

How far out are they?

About 200 yards.

Those Krauts want us to leave First Squad out there.

We're not leaving anyone out there!

Sergeant Antolak understands

that the only way we support First Squad is by having us, Second Squad,

get up and take out the enemy.

But if we all get up and start running towards this machine gun,

we're gonna get killed.

You see the fear in their eyes and they start doubting themselves.

They start doubting their own team.

You do have to improvise, at times, to the situation,

and that's...

most likely what he was trying to think about:

"How do I improvise this situation? How do I...

execute the enemy, and yet, make sure my men come home?"

He's at a considerable disadvantage to the Germans,

but he also knows that he has a responsibility to his men,

that he has to respond immediately.

The casualties at this level are friends.

They're not just names and faces, much less numbers.

They're your fellow soldiers.

Wait for my signal.

What the hell's he doing?

He clearly recognized

that something had to be done, that they could not just

hug the Earth and survive, that the German machine gun fire

had to be disrupted.

He's going to shock the enemy. He's going to make himself a target...

and stop that machine gun

from imperiling the lives of his men.

In combat,

there might be a moment where you have to make a decision

that will more than likely dictate whether or not you live or die.

You put every experience that you've ever had in your life,

from the moment you can remember...

and then you put in all your training and all your beliefs...

all your love for the people around you,

whether at that specific moment or back home.

Life is short.

Life is precious.

But I'd rather put my life on the line,

and not come home,

than cower away.

When Sergeant Antolak decided to sprint towards that machine gun nest,

he bottled up everything that he loved about life, all his experiences,

and he gambled on that.

That, what I represent,

not as an individual

but as a countryman, is stronger than what you represent,

and today I will show it to you.

Get behind the wall.

Get behind the wall!

- You've lost your damned mind! - We can't leave him out there!

There was this bully in my school.

- One day, it was my turn. - Let's go.

I went out to face him,

but my brothers were already beating on that poor kid.

You didn't have to do that for me!

I can take care of myself.

The Powerful and resourceful gangsters

who have banded together...

Krauts are just bullies.

We didn't want to get in it, but we are in it.

and we're going to fight it with everything we've got.

Because of his actions,

his men forgot about being hungry, forgot about being tired,

forgot about the horrible night they had prior,

and instead, remembered that they had

an incredible leader in Sergeant Antolak.

Somehow, he had the ability to really understand the situation.

And that's something that really is special in an individual.

He's weaving, trying to be a hard target for them to hit.

And he's shooting while he's doing this as well.

He's gotta try to keep the enemy's head down.

He's at least gotta try to make them less accurate...

...all while he's allowing his men

to seek cover, to return fire.

Antolak was now attacking into German heavy machine guns,

the Spandau heavy machine gun,

a machine gun that's firing 600 rounds a minute.

Sergeant Antolak's got a Thompson submachine gun, 45-caliber shells.

He's definitely bringing a butter knife to a gunfight.

This is a massive blow.

I've actually taken a round, an M16 round,

a smaller caliber than the one that he was hit with multiple times,

right through the chest.

And it is like the biggest blow to the solar plexus

that you can possibly imagine.

And it sort of explodes out of the back of your body,

you almost feel as if you've been hit from behind.

Move!

Let's be honest.

He was scared. He had to be. I... everybody's scared in combat.

If you're not scared, then there's something really wrong with you.

That is why fear is actually one of our biggest allies,

because fear keeps us sane...

keeps us accurate.

It reminds you that you have to do your job.

Antolak was shot multiple times.

He's losing blood.

His humerus is shattered...

...but there's that drive to continue moving forward.

Now he's got an arm that doesn't work.

He's gotta tuck that gun underneath his good arm, under his left arm,

and that's gotta be incredibly painful.

But he still had guys that were in danger.

It's that bond that you have with your fellow soldier,

to make sure that I'm there for you, you're there for me.

And, if I can still go, I'm gonna go.

Nothing motivated troops quite so much as watching

one of their buddies move toward the enemy

and they would feel compelled to support him.

I mean, this is something that all studies of units in World War II

and World War I pointed to, that the allegiance was

not so much to the higher command, the allegiance was to the unit.

And that these troops would do anything for each other

because they had bonded so much.

So, because of Sergeant Antolak's madcap sprint toward the enemy,

they would come forward in support.

I am a German soldier,

and I just shot this human being

three times.

And three times, he gets back up and sprints towards me?

I'm thinking, like, "This guy's possessed."

Drop your weapons!

"Hey, he wants it more than I do today!"

- Get your hands up! - Please.

What's he saying?

They're asking us for food.

The German Army endured five years of war,

five years of intense privations.

You know, short rations,

you know, insufficient fuel, ammunition, everything else.

There's a feeling in the German Army that you're just gonna

keep going until you're killed.

Hey watch him. Keep an eye on them.

We'll get a medic out here.

- We'll patch you up. - Just give me a cigarette.

I found something. Check this out.

Keep your hands up.

They're so stunned

by Antolak's apparition in their midst.

I mean this guy crosses 200 yards of ground,

swept by fire, survives,

gets to the lip of their trench,

you know, with a Tommy gun under his left arm.

I mean, game over!

Down! Down! Down! Now!

Sarge! Sarge! Sarge!

Sarge!

One thing that you're gonna learn in combat, which is ironic,

you learn a lot about love.

When you're willing to put yourself in front of that bullet,

in front of that suicide bomber, in front of that mortar,

in front of anything that is gonna pretty much kill you,

for your men, that's love.

Sylvester is one of the few that's been able to go out there

and really, truly showcase his love for his brothers.

And by that, he did the impossible.

Let's go!

One man against a machine gun nest

that blocked the road to Rome,

and three times he was cut down by fire,

three times he got back up,

tucking his gun under his shattered arm,

and by the time he disabled the gunners,

ten enemy soldiers surrendered to this man

whom their bullets could not stop.

Twelve days later,

the Allies would liberate the Italian capital.

One man's extraordinary act,

a prism for an entire fighting force's heroism,

and the critical victory it secured.

Rome falls.

Past the ancient Colosseum,

the first American armored column enters the eternal city.

The infantry passes through on the heels of the fleeing Nazis.

The first Axis capital to fall.

It gives you a sense of how a small unit is part

of a much larger unit action,

which is larger and larger,

and that's what it takes, this individual initiative,

individual courage,

and in some cases, individual sacrifice.

This is the ultimate commitment.

Sergeant Sylvester Antolak rests here

beneath the pines of Nettuno with nearly 8,000 other soldiers.

But only Antolak's gravestone and one other,

bear the designation of the Medal of Honor,

the U.S. Military's highest commendation for valor,

reserved for an act of personal bravery

involving risk of life above and beyond the call of duty.

Though his grave lies thousands of miles away,

the Antolaks don't have to look far to be reminded of their family's history

and how it formed a young boy named Sylvester in the twenties and thirties.

...but it's the one from May of 13,

where he replies he just got to Italy.

- Right? - Yeah.

Sylvester, "S." He didn't even spell his name, just put "S."

And another one to Aunt Anne, so he wrote home quite a bit.

I guess they were real close, weren't they?

My uncle was 25 years old when he went in the military,

and he was still on the farm.

And he was the second to the youngest.

He wanted to be a farmer.

Help his family when he come back from the service.

The farm you see behind us is the Antolak family farm,

where Sylvester grew up. That's been in our family since 1923.

Our parents all grew up on the farm the same way. Life was...

Life was hard. It was tough.

And this is depression-era time.

So, my uncle and my father, they worked very hard just to survive.

My Uncle Sylvester was, I believe, nine of eleven.

It's a big family.

My grandmother, with two young children, you know...

setting off for a new life,

not knowing what she's going to encounter when she gets here.

If that's not an example of courage and determination, then nothing is.

We're very proud of the Polish heritage that we're a part of,

and I'm sure that, you know, Sylvester was as well.

When the army officer showed up to notify of my great-uncle's death,

his mother didn't speak English at all.

She had to go out into the field to bring in the boys

to be able to communicate with the officers that showed up.

The Antolaks would hear of Sylvester's unfathomable bravery,

and later learned that the Secretary of Defense

deemed it worthy of the military's highest award.

The military vehicle picked up my grandmother at the farm

and my Aunt Anne and my Uncle Alec also accompanied her.

And she went to Fort Hayes in Columbus.

Major General James Collins placed the Medal of Honor

around the neck of Sylvester's grieving mother, Mary.

She didn't speak about it.

It was just, you know, it was her son that had died.

The Medal of Honor is such a fabulous, you know, honor

to be bestowed upon any family.

And here in Ohio, our children learn about this in Ohio history.

And when you're an "Antolak," with the last name of Antolak,

you're very proud.

Sergeant Antolak's actions unquestionably

merited the Medal of Honor.

The Medal of Honor is the ultimate form of recognition

for courage on the battlefield. And, in fact,

in many cases, the individual who earns the Medal of Honor

is killed in the course of that action.

The Medal of Honor is held in a kind of awe

because the standards...

are so high to be a recipient.

Anybody who receives it is immediately hailed as a hero like none other.

It is so rare and so distinguished that it has to be witnessed

and people have to write reports about why this person deserves it.

And in this case, there were lots of witnesses

who probably never forgot this to their dying day.

The road to recognition for a Medal of Honor,

long and painstaking, starts with eyewitness statements,

documents, and maps.

All of it used to build a compelling case,

which is submitted up the entire chain of command to the Secretary of War.

And finally, the President.

The medal's design for the Army is intricate and symbolic.

A five-pointed gold star inside a cluster of laurel leaves,

symbolizing victory.

Each point topped with an oak leaf for strength.

Variations of the medal honor recipients from the Air Force,

Navy, Marine Corps, and Coast Guard.

You know, as a soldier,

when you see someone wearing that...

blue ribbon with a Medal of Honor on it, it chokes you up.

You know a lot of 'em didn't survive it.

The ones that did, they're almost seen as super-human.

You hear the stories and they're just so amazing.

Everybody looks up to them.

And it leads you to question, "Could I do that in that situation?

Would I've had the guts to do that?"

What always impresses me, though, is that they are, almost all of them,

very reluctant to talk about it...

very quiet-spoken.

They don't brag.

It's others who tell their stories for them.

The Medal of Honor represents usually the worst day of your life.

And we are recipients of this award.

We represent our nation, our military service, and...

and really, every single one of those individuals

that didn't come home and their families by wearing this medal.

My uncle is buried over in Italy,

so we don't have a gravesite to go to.

A few years ago, my cousin, Paul, his son, Cole,

for his Eagle Scout project,

put up a memorial at the city park.

I remember growing up reading about my great-uncle

and being extremely proud.

I wanted to tell everybody.

I would... show my close friends his citation and have them read it.

And so, I wanted to do something where I could showcase Sylvester.

In 2016,

more than 70 years after Sylvester Antolak's death,

an Ohio congressman helped pass a bill that would name a local highway after him

in special tribute.

Keeping this legacy alive for each other,

and all those who pass through here,

is now a mission of the Antolak clan.

I was very proud of the dedication.

Everybody came. All the relatives came.

So, Sylvester, we thank you

for your selfless and heroic actions,

your unrelenting devotion to duty,

and for the freedoms that you helped secure for our nation.

It'll be special every time we...

um, pass the signage on I-70 and...

and know that, you know, he'll be forever memorialized.

Unfortunately, you know, all the siblings are gone.

How they would have...

How they would have loved to have been a part of it.

The Medal of Honor is more than a certificate,

more than a medal on a ribbon.

It's more even than recognition for an act of the past.

It's a living testament speaking across decades and continents

to grit and courage.

A message to all generations that come after,

saying, "This has been done.

This. is possible."

They haven't won the Medal of Honor.

Uh, this isn't a sweepstakes or a lottery.

Um, they have earned it, and they have earned it the hard way.

Again, the process by which the decision ultimately is made

to award the Medal of Honor is a very rigorous one, as it should be.

Uh, there can be debate about is this a Medal of Honor

or a Distinguished Service Cross.

Both of these are extraordinary forms of recognition

for courage on the battlefield.

Uh, it's very difficult to make that call,

although in Sergeant Antolak's case,

there is no doubt, again, in my mind,

uh, that he absolutely earned the Medal of Honor.

That would've been one that would've come through the process,

and I just have to believe that every single leader at every level

would say "strongly recommend approval" all the way to the final level,

uh, in which it is, indeed, approved.

Today, in the 15th Infantry Regiment,

we have one battalion left of the regiment

on active duty. It's at Fort Stewart, Georgia.

When you go into the Battalion Headquarters,

you come up there, on the third floor of a barracks building,

and you walk out, and the first thing you see is the Hall of Heroes,

which has the pictures of all regiment, all twenty

15th Infantry Regiment, Medal of Honor recipients,

and it's done alphabetically.

And guess who's first. Sergeant Antolak.

So, that's who you see.

He's there in a pantheon of 20 guys,

20 great American soldiers who our soldiers try to emulate

uh, in their professionalism and dedication to duty.

Everybody who serves in the 15th Infantry is fully aware

of this great tradition we have of heroism and professionalism.

And so I think in that sense,

his legacy continues to live today as part of that bigger picture,

not just as an individual, but as an example

of what non-commissioned officers are expected to do when the time gets tough.

I remember one author one time wrote that if you wanted to get a sense

of what it was to fight in World War II, in these situations,

what you needed to do was dig a trench in your front yard and...

and fill it with all your waste products for a couple weeks and then sit in it

for a while, just to get a sense of what the feel

and the smell and the filth was like.

In a place like Anzio, where you really had very little freedom of movement,

especially in the daytime when everything could be seen,

uh, people were locked in their foxholes.

They were always trying to keep their heads down.

You had the smell of death all over.

You had the smell of cordite. You had the...

uh, incessant smoke. Oftentimes, the Allies themselves would use smoke

over the beachhead to try to cover it from

German observation and German aircraft, so you had the smoke of the enemy fire,

you had your own smoke in the air all the time,

the cries of the wounded, the smells of the dead.

Uh, oftentimes, in the no man's land between the two armies,

the dead would sit out there and all you could do was

run out at night with something like lime

to try to put on the bodies so they wouldn't smell.

Uh, you're just living with death all the time.

You're living with the constant threat of death all the time.

You know, I remember in the memoirs of a British officer

on the beachhead, he said, you know, "I don't know what to do.

If I lie on my stomach, they shoot me in the arse,

and if I lie on my back, they shoot me in the balls."

Um, so, you know, there was no escape from the combination of machine guns,

mortars, 88s.

Uh, so, that's another one of Antolak's, uh, ideas is to get forward, get...

The only way to rescue yourself from this German defensive fire

was to move forward, disrupt the German line, and push them back.

So, had his men been pinned down there, they would have been destroyed.

I need to recognize my mother here today.

She's 94 years old.

She also was part of World War II.

She was one of the Rosie Riveters.

She went to Detroit, worked in a factory,

became an airplane inspector, inspected airplane parts.

She was the best airplane inspector in the plant.

If you don't believe me, ask her.

There was also another eyewitness that day,

a very young sergeant at that time

who witnessed Sergeant Antolak's bravery and valor that day.

What this young sergeant saw that day definitely had a profound effect

on him throughout the rest of his military life.

This young sergeant went on to become a lieutenant in the Army,

and also the most decorated combat soldier of World War II.

The man I'm talking about is Audie Murphy.

In his best-selling autobiography titled To Hell and Back,

he mentions Sergeant Sylvester Antolak's heroic efforts that day in May.

So, as this sign is erected tomorrow along Interstate 70 near Exit 216,

our hope is that as Marion Ellis

and Audie Murphy were influenced by Sergeant Antolak's bravery,

that those who drive by,

his influence will influence their lives for the better

as he has influenced ours.

It's hard to say where that courage comes from, uh,

in moments that ultimately result in award of the Medal of Honor.

Uh, in many cases, the individuals,

uh, are not chest beaters,

they're not, you know, say, "See me." They're not trash talkers.

They're not... they're just seemingly,

um, good, competent, solid soldiers,

marines, airmen, sailors.

And, something special,

uh, is there on that particular day, in some cases it's there on many days.

But something happens to them

when the enemy engages them,

when they realize that their fellow troopers are in harm's way,

and where they decide in an instant, uh, to take action

that will not only not let down their fellow soldiers,

uh, but help them survive

by putting one's own life at risk.

I've been blown up. I haven't been shot.

Um, I've been blown up, literally, by 50 pounds of homemade explosives,

but I know plenty of individuals that have been shot.

It depends, though. It depends what you get shot with.

Some will say that adrenaline kicks in,

which obviously, in this case, had to kick in.

Sylvester Antolak is a perfect example of it.

This man... is a good old American.

Just work hard. And when his country was at war,

he served his country to the best of his ability.

So much that he put his life on the line and he died for his country.

He is one of many great examples.

In my life, I have Sergeant Major Griffin,

Major Gray, Major Kennedy, and I got Ragaei Abdelfattah.

Four men that put their lives on the line and died on the same day

that I was awarded the Medal of Honor for.

Now, those are the individuals

that the medal represents, and their families.

They don't represent me. No.

The medal, to me, is a responsibility as a courier

to remind myself and everyone around me

of those individuals who are willing to do everything that they can,

and the reason why they did it.

And that is why it is so important for us to honor

their memories,

and honor their sacrifices.

It represents us. It represents who we are as a nation.

A day after Veterans Day,

we honor this American veteran whose story,

like so many of our vets and wounded warriors,

speaks not only of gallantry on the battlefield,

but resilience here at home.

As a teenager, just up the road in Bethesda,

Flo discovered he had an incredible gift.

He could run.

Fast.

Half-mile, mile, two-mile, he'd leave his competition in the dust.

He was among the best in the state and he went on to run

track and cross-country at the University of Maryland.

Flo's college coach called him the consummate teammate.

As good as he was in individual events, somehow he always found

a little extra something when he was running on a relay with the team.

Distance running is really all about guts, and as one teammate said,

"Flo could suffer a little more than everyone else could."

So, day after day,

month after month, he pushed himself to his limit.

He knew that every long run,

every sprint, every interval, could help shave a second or two off his times.

And as he'd find out later, a few seconds can make all the difference.

Training, guts, teamwork.

What made Flo a great runner also made him a great soldier.

In the Army, Flo again took his training seriously,

hitting the books in the classroom,

paying attention to every detail in field exercises,

because he knew that he had to be prepared for any scenario.

He deployed to Afghanistan twice.

First, as a platoon leader,

and then a couple of years later when he was handpicked

to head up a security detail.

And so, it was on an August day three years ago,

that Flo found himself leading a group of American and Afghan soldiers

as they escorted their commanders to a meeting with local Afghans.

It was a journey that the team had done many times before,

a short walk on foot, including passage over a narrow bridge.

At first they passed pedestrians,

a few cars and bicycles, even some children,

but then they began to approach the bridge

and a pair of motorcycles sped toward them from the other side.

The Afghan troops shouted at the bikers to stop, and they did,

ditching their bikes in the middle of the bridge and running away.

And that's when Flo noticed something to his left,

a man dressed in dark clothing walking backwards, just some ten feet away.

The man spun around

and turned toward them and that's when Flo sprinted toward him.

He pushed him away from the formation, and as he did,

he noticed an object under the man's clothing...

a bomb.

The motorcycles had been a diversion.

And at that moment, Flo did something extraordinary.

He grabbed the bomber by his vest and kept pushing him away.

And all those years of training, on the track, in the classroom,

out in the field, all of it came together in those few seconds,

and he had the instincts and the courage

to do what was needed.

One of Flo's comrades, Sergeant Andrew Mahoney,

had joined in, too, and together they shoved the bomber, again and again,

and they pushed him so hard he fell to the ground onto his chest,

and then the bomb detonated.

Ball bearings, debris, dust exploded everywhere.

Flo was thrown some 15 or 20 feet and was knocked unconscious,

and moments later, he woke up in the middle of the road in shock.

His eardrum was blown out, his leg was broken and bleeding badly.

Still, he realized that if the enemy launched a secondary attack,

he'd be a sitting duck. And when a comrade found him in the smoke,

Flo had his pistol out, dragging his wounded body from the road.

That blast by the bridge claimed four American heroes.

Four heroes Flo wants us to remember today.

One of his mentors, a 24-year Army vet

who always found time for Flo

and any other soldier who wanted to talk,

Command Sergeant Major Kevin Griffin.

A West Pointer

who loved hockey and became a role model to cadets and troops because

he always cared more about other people than himself,

Major Tom Kennedy.

A popular Air Force leader known for smiling with his whole face,

someone who always seemed to run into a friend wherever he went,

Major David Gray.

And finally, a USAID Foreign Service Officer

who had just volunteered for a second tour in Afghanistan,

a man who moved to the United States from Egypt

and reveled in everything American,

whether it was Disneyland or chain restaurants or roadside pie,

Ragaei Abdelfattah.

These four men believed in America.

They dedicated their lives to our country.

They died serving it.

Their families, loving wives and children,

parents and siblings, bear that sacrifice most of all.

So, while Ragaei's family could not be with us today,

I'd ask three gold-star families

to please stand and accept our deepest thanks.

[audience applauds}