Medal of Honor process under fire

Sgt. Rafael Peralta told his men he would die for them. Then he went out and proved it. Peralta was leading five Marines on a house-clearing mission Nov. 15, 2004, in the second week of a battle for the insurgent stronghold of Fallujah, Iraq. As he entered a room near the back of one home, gunfire hit him in the face and chest, leaving him barely breathing on the floor.

Then a grenade rolled out of the room, landing a foot away from him. Peralta pulled it to his chest so he could shield his men from the blast. He died instantly when the grenade exploded, but the other Marines lived.

“It's stuff you hear about in boot camp, about World War II and Tarawa Marines who won the Medal of Honor,” Lance Cpl. Rob Rogers, a witness to Peralta's courageous act, later told The Army Times.

Peralta's heroism has been celebrated on military blogs, in books and in a TV documentary. President Bush has praised Peralta, a 25-year-old San Diegan, for his bravery and sacrifice.

But three years after Peralta gave his life, for which he received a Purple Heart, the Pentagon has yet to acknowledge Peralta's courageous deed with any medal of valor. That he is deserving of a Medal of Honor, the nation's highest award for combat bravery, is widely accepted among his peers. What's puzzling is the delay.

“There are a lot of people scratching their heads. I hope his family is awarded what he deserves soon,” said Owen West, a Marine Reserve officer who served in Iraq in 2003 and now writes military-themed articles and books.

West and other veterans criticize the Pentagon for what they see as an awards process that has become too tough and slow. They contend that bureaucrats far from the combat zones are nitpicking the valor of real-life heroes.

“It's just ridiculous how they're playing parlor games with a guy who gave his life,” David Bellavia said of Peralta. Bellavia, a decorated former Army staff sergeant who fought in Fallujah, has been a vocal critic of the medal selection process.

Pentagon officials said a meticulous, lengthy process is essential to preserving the mystique that surrounds the Medal of Honor.

“To get it right, we've got to make sure the candidates are thoroughly investigated. In a Medal of Honor case, there is no margin for error and no room for doubt,” said Cmdr. Lesley Priest, director of the Navy Department Board of Decorations and Medals, which supervises high-level awards for the Navy and Marine Corps.

Two people have been recognized with a Medal of Honor since the Iraq war began in 2003. There has been one recipient in the six years of the Afghanistan war.

By comparison, the military awarded 465 Medals of Honor during World War II, 133 during the Korean War and 246 during the Vietnam War, said Doug Sterner of Pueblo, Colo., a Marine veteran of Vietnam. Sterner has created the nation's most comprehensive database of valor-award recipients – even more complete than the Pentagon's – at www.homeofheroes.com.

During the Iraq and Afghanistan wars, the time period between an act of valor and a Medal of Honor announcement has been two to three years. Military experts said that in previous conflicts, the interval typically was much shorter – sometimes a few days or weeks.

“The Medal of Honor was intended to recognize heroism when it happens. If we had more heroes we could celebrate, it would put a different face on this Iraq war,” said Joseph Kinney of Pinehurst, N.C., a Vietnam War veteran who has written articles and lobbied Congress for a streamlined process.

Some veterans also complain that the Pentagon has failed to recognize any living veterans of the Iraq or Afghanistan wars with Medals of Honor. The three recipients from these conflicts – Navy Lt. Michael Murphy, Marine Cpl. Jason Dunham and Army Sgt. 1st Class Paul Smith – all died during the battles that led to their awards.

In World War II, 43 percent of Medal of Honor recipients survived their combat actions. The figure was 28 percent for the Korean War and 62 percent for the Vietnam War, said U.S. Rep. John McHugh, R-N.Y., a former chairman of the House Armed Services Subcommittee on Military Personnel.

In December, the subcommittee held public hearings on the awarding of military medals. Kinney testified at length, suggesting that any posthumous valor award be granted within seven days of death, and that awards to any living service member be given within 30 days of his or her return from the war theater.

“The Pentagon has absolutely, once again, totally dropped the ball,” he said. “There's been no reform.”

Pentagon officials and some veterans point out that the Iraq and Afghanistan conflicts differ markedly from past wars. For example, they said the earlier wars involved massive armies in sustained combat.

“You were in the jungle in Vietnam, but the battle was extremely close,” said Robert Modrzejewski, 73, of Tierrasanta, a retired Marine colonel who received a Medal of Honor in 1968. “In Iraq and Afghanistan, there's a lot of distance.”

Once a service member is nominated for a high-level valor award, the judging process starts with the troops who witnessed the act of bravery. Their eyewitness statements are gathered by the unit commander, along with other supporting evidence.

Those statements pass through review boards from the service member's brigade and division headquarters. A division commander can authorize awards no higher than a Bronze Star, the fourth-highest award for combat valor.

The top three tiers of awards – the Medal of Honor, the three service crosses and the Silver Star – require Pentagon review.

The evaluation process for every medal is supposed to be confidential. The identities of the board members and the number of people serving on each board are closely guarded.

Such measures are designed to keep out politics and lobbying, said Priest, the Navy's decorations and medals director.

“It's not that we're being secretive,” she said. “We're trying to preserve the integrity of the process.”

Priest said Secretary of the Navy Donald Winter appoints senior Navy and Marine Corps officers to serve on the department's highest-level awards board. They advise Winter, who makes the final decision on Navy Crosses.

“They are very experienced. Most have served in combat,” Priest said. “It's not just a bunch of paper-pushers.”

At the Pentagon level, evaluators are told to weigh the quality and accuracy of statements submitted on behalf of a nominee. They also analyze supplementary documents such as maps showing where the combat valor took place, post-battle reports, and autopsy and medical records.

“A big part is making sure there is harmony among the facts,” said Bill Carr, the Defense Department's deputy undersecretary for military personnel policy. “It's very, very exhaustive.”

Jay Vargas of San Diego, who received the Medal of Honor as a young Marine officer in 1968, said: “It has to be a tough process. There can't be any glitches whatsoever.”

After an awards board signs off on a Medal of Honor nomination, its recommendation must be approved by the defense secretary and ultimately the president.

“I think the system is good,” said Thomas Richards of Rancho Bernardo, a retired Marine lieutenant and the national commandant for the Legion of Valor. “I wouldn't tinker with the way the system works.”

It's unclear whether that system will result in a Medal of Honor for Peralta, a naturalized U.S. citizen who grew up in Tijuana and graduated from Morse High School. He lived in the Webster neighborhood of San Diego and is survived by his mother and three younger siblings.

Hours after Peralta's death, Cpl. Richard Mason, a member of his battalion, urged Marine combat journalist Travis Kaemmerer to forever remember him.

“You're still here; don't forget that,” Mason told Kaemmerer, an eyewitness who later wrote about the events. “Tell your kids, your grandkids, what Sgt. Peralta did for you and the other Marines today.”

How about the story of "Red" Erwin, whose act of courage was so stunning that his Medal of Honor was authorized in a matter of hours.

Master Sergeant Henry E. "Red" Erwin

Medal of Honor recipient Henry E. Erwin passed away in January 2002 at age 80. But 57 years earlier, Erwin showed dramatically how willing he was to give up his life to save the crew of his B-29 Superfortress. His heroism resulted not only in saving his crew and earning him the ultimate military honor, but also put his story on the silver screen.

Erwin was born in May 1921 in Adamsville, Ala., near Bessemer. He entered the Army Air Corps as an enlisted man, becoming a radio operator. On April 12, 1945, Erwin, then a staff sergeant, was assigned to the 52nd Bombardment Squadron, 29th Bombardment Group, based in Guam. He was a radio operator on a B-29 called the City of Los Angeles, piloted by Capt George Simeral. They were in formation in a low-level attack on a chemical plant at Koriyama, 120 miles north of Tokyo, on their 11th combat mission.

Along with their primary jobs, the 12 B-29 crew members had additional duties to perform. Erwin's was to drop phosphorus smoke bombs through a chute in the B-29's floor when the lead plane reached an assembly area over enemy territory. He was given the signal to drop the bombs when the aircraft was just off the south coast of Japan and under attack by anti-aircraft fire and enemy fighters. In his shirtsleeves, Erwin, called "Red" by his crew members, pulled the pin and released a bomb into the chute. The fuse malfunctioned, igniting the phosphorus, burning at 1,100 degrees. The canister flew back up the chute and into Erwin's face, blinding him, searing off one ear and obliterating his nose. Smoke immediately filled the aircraft, making it impossible for the pilot to see his instrument panel.

Erwin was afraid the bomb would burn through the metal floor into the bomb bay. Completely blind, he picked it up and feeling his way, crawled around the gun turret and headed for the copilot's window. His face and arms were covered with ignited phosphorous and his path was blocked by the navigator's folding table, hinged to the wall but down and locked. The navigator had left his table to make a sighting. Erwin couldn't release the table's latches with one hand, so he grabbed the white-hot bomb between his bare right arm and his ribcage. In the few seconds it took to raise the table, the phosphorus burned through his flesh to the bone. His body on fire, he stumbled into the cockpit, threw the bomb out the window and collapsed between the pilot's seats.

The smoke cleared enough for Simeral to pull the B-29 out of a dive at 300 feet above the water and turn toward Iwo Jima where Erwin could be given emergency treatment. His horrified crew members extinguished his burning clothes and administered first aid, but whenever Erwin's burns were uncovered, phosphorus embedded in his skin would begin to smolder. Although in excruciating pain, Erwin remained conscious throughout the flight. He only spoke to inquire about the safety of the crew.

Back at Iwo Jima, the medics didn't believe he could survive. Army Air Force officials, led by Maj. Gen. Curtis LeMay and Brig. Gen. Lauris Norstad, approved award of the Medal of Honor in a matter of hours, so a presentation could be made while Erwin still lived. A medal was flown to Guam and presented in the hospital there.

However, Erwin managed to survive. He was flown back to the United States, and after 30 months and 41 surgeries, his eyesight was restored and he regained use of one arm. He was given a disability discharge as a master sergeant in October 1947. For 37 years, he served as a Veterans' Benefit Counselor at the Veterans' Hospital in Birmingham, Ala. He passed away peacefully at home on Jan. 16, 2002.

In 1951, Hollywood included his story as part of the movie, "The Wild Blue Yonder," starring Forrest Tucker, Wendell Corey and Vera Ralston. Erwin was played by David Sharpe.

In 1997, the Air Force created the Henry E. Erwin Outstanding Enlisted Aircrew Member of the Year Award. It is presented annually to an airman, noncommissioned officer and senior noncommissioned officer in the active-duty or reserve forces. It goes to members of the flight engineering, loadmaster, air surveillance and related career fields. It is only the second Air Force award named for an enlisted person.

Sources compiled from Air Force News Agency and U.S. Air Force Museum.

As an interesting aside, his son, Henry E. Erwin Jr., is a Republican state senator in Alabama.

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