Crandall, while recognized for his heroism, will be best remembered for the “warmth of his wit, the depth of his humility and the fierce loyalty he gave to the people and communities he loved,” according to a Congressional Medal of Honor Society release.

Born in February 1933, Olympia, Washington, the All-American athlete had dreams of being drafted by the New York Yankees and earned a scholarship to the University of Washington. That dream was deferred, however, when Crandall was drafted by the U.S. Army in 1953.

Crandall would subsequently receive the nation’s highest honor for valor during the Nov. 14, 1965, Battle of Ia Drang — the first major clash of the Vietnam War, made famous by the book We Were Soldiers Once … and Young: Ia Drang–The Battle That Changed the War in Vietnam and the subsequent movie of the same name.

On that day, Crandall led 16 helicopters carrying soldiers into Landing Zone X-Ray in the Ia Drang Valley, but as the fighting intensified, orders came down for follow-on aircraft to abort their mission, meaning all medevac assistance had been cut off to the men of the 1/7 Cav.

“The medevac pilots were all great pilots, but they weren’t allowed to land on a landing zone until it was ‘green’ for a period of five minutes,” meaning it wasn’t being relentlessly attacked, Crandall later recalled.

Crandall recognized that the men he had shuttled into Ia Drang were trapped, in desperate need of ammunition and, for some, medical evacuation.

Contacted on the radio by Col. Ramon Antonio “Tony” Nadal, Crandall recalled that Nadal was yelling, “I got to have — get my wounded out of here. I’ve got 12 guys that are — and they’re collected, and I have a hole where a helicopter can get in, but they won’t come.”

In response, Crandall refueled, kicked off his door gunner and weaponry to lighten his load.

“If you have infantry on the ground, you can’t shoot up their backside,” Crandall said, calling the M60 guns “worthless.”

Ignoring the heavy enemy fire, Crandall, alongside his friend Maj. Ed Freeman, voluntarily flew 22 missions into the valley to deliver ammunition and evacuate some 70 wounded soldiers.

“While medical evacuation was not his mission,” reads his Medal of Honor citation, “he immediately sought volunteers and with complete disregard for his own personal safety, led the two aircraft to Landing Zone X-Ray. Despite the fact that the landing zone was still under relentless enemy fire, Major Crandall landed and proceeded to supervise the loading of seriously wounded soldiers aboard the aircraft.

“Major Crandall’s voluntary decision to land under the most extreme fire instilled in the other pilots the will and spirit to continue to land their own aircraft, and in the ground forces the realization that they would be resupplied and that friendly wounded would be promptly evacuated,” the citation continues. “This greatly enhanced morale and the will to fight at a critical time.”

Crandall would ultimately fly nearly 1,000 combat missions and was further commended for rescuing 12 wounded soldiers during a dense jungle operation in January 1966, according to the Department of Defense.

In 1968, four months into his second tour in Vietnam flying Huey gunships in support of the 1st Cavalry Division, Crandall’s helicopter crashed, breaking the pilot’s back among other severe injuries that left him hospitalized for five months.

The broken back didn’t deter Crandall from flying, but a subsequent stroke in the early 1970s ended his flying career. He retired from the Army in 1977.

Crandall, who initially received the Distinguished Service Cross for his actions at Ia Drang, was awarded the Medal of Honor on Feb. 26, 2007, by President George W. Bush.

With Crandall’s passing there are now only 63 living Medal of Honor recipients.

Capts. Steven Maire and Joseph Carey were traveling home to California from the Marine Aviation Readiness and Operations Summit in Dallas on May 23 when they noticed a man collapse near the ticket counter, the pair shared in a Marine release.

“I was checking in for my ticket and I saw him on the ground and realized something wasn’t right,” said Maire, an AH-1Z Viper pilot and a Cleveland native. “That’s when [Carey] saw him and started heading over to him, then I followed.”

Carey, an MV22B Osprey pilot, didn’t see any medical or emergency personnel. The Hanover, New Hampshire, native realized he and his fellow Marine captain were the closest people who could help the man.

“We just got down on the floor with him and started to figure out what the problem was,” Carey said.

The two pilots, currently assigned to the 15th Marine Expeditionary Unit, made their initial assessment. The Marine expeditionary unit is part of 1st Marine Division and recently participated in the bilateral U.S.–Philippines Exercise Balikatan.

“The man wasn’t responsive and was very tense, so at first I thought it was a seizure,” Maire said. “We’re pilots ― not medical professionals ― but we remembered what we’ve been trained to do and just helped.”

The pair realized the man wasn’t breathing and likely had suffered a heart attack.

“He was unresponsive and not breathing for long enough that he started turning blue,” said Carey, describing the man’s face and lips.

Carey began chest compressions, part of cardiopulmonary resuscitation while the man’s wife gave periodic rescue breaths.

An airline official brought an automated electronic defibrillator.

“He had a very weak pulse, so when they brought over the defibrillator, I immediately hooked the leads up to his chest to use it,” Maire said.

Carey cleared the area before Maire used the automated external defibrillator to administer the first shock. When there wasn’t an immediate response, he used a second shock and more chest compressions. The man slowly awakened.

“When he came back, that was a huge relief,” Carey said. “It was just great to see what we did worked.”

At about that time, paramedics arrived and took over care of the man from the Marines.

“I’m glad someone was able to be there and help him, but it was very surreal,” Maire said. “One minute we were getting our tickets, then we were reacting to this situation, and then it was over, and we were worried about getting to the gate to catch our flights.”

On June 10, in front of 200 fellow Marines of Marine Medium Tiltrotor Squadron 165 (Reinforced), 15th Marine Expeditionary Unit, at Marine Corps Air Station Miramar, California, the Marine expeditionary unit’s commanding officer, Col. Sean Dynan, presented the men with the Navy and Marine Corps Commendation Medal.

The medal is awarded for acts of heroism, meritorious achievement or service ― one notch below the Bronze Star Medal and Meritorious Service Medal when combat is not involved.

The colonel noted how the captains’ fast actions embodied what he sees as the role for the entire unit, to be ready to deploy to crisis or ready to “be somebody’s hero” by those in need.

Squadron commander Lt. Col. Drew Bossart shared his thoughts also on his Marines’ heroism at the ceremony.

“Their quick thinking, exceptional teamwork, and unwavering commitment to the safety and well-being of others epitomize the core values of our Marine Corps,” said Bossart.

“They’re true leaders who didn’t hesitate to take charge of a surprise situation and begin fighting to save someone’s life, and I’m extremely proud to serve with them and recognize their lifesaving efforts.”

But later that day, as he drove his M48 tank, rumbling through a meadow alongside two other tanks, a burst of machine-gun fire slapped its metal shell, wounding the crew’s loader who’d been standing in the turret’s hatch.

A fire team of infantrymen ― the eyes and ears of the three-tank unit — were behind him, some of them were wounded too. A corpsman rushed up. But Plank knew they’d need help getting the wounded sergeant out of the turret.

He peeked out the driver’s hatch, shoving his .45-caliber pistol out first, and only a few feet away saw a Viet Cong fighter raising his rifle toward the turret to fire on the men outside.

What the 18-year-old did next wouldn’t be recognized for 58 years.

On May 29, in Boise, Idaho, Marine Col. William Chairsell pinned the Silver Star Medal on the blue sport coat lapel of the now 77-year-old Plank.

It is the third-highest military valor decoration.

The teenage Marine was one of hundreds who participated in Operation Starlite ― the first major, solely U.S. military offensive operation of the Vietnam War.

The Marines had been the first ground troops sent to South Vietnam in March, only five months before.

From Aug. 18, 1965, to Aug. 25, 1965, infantry, artillery, armor and aircraft of the III Marine Amphibious Force swept into the land surrounding the Van Tuong village complex. It was nine miles south of the strategically vital Chu Lai Air Base and where intelligence had reported the Viet Cong’s 1st Regiment launched its operations.

Plank’s three-tank team with A Company, 3rd Tank Battalion, 3rd Marine Division, was part of that force.

By the end of the eight-day operation the United States would see 45 men killed in action. U.S. officials reported more than 600 enemy killed, while Viet Cong claim only 200 perished or were captured.

The lance corporal had mere seconds to react to the man raising a rifle at his comrades. He fired his pistol so close to his own face that the slide smacked it, causing him to bleed. For a moment, he thought he’d been shot himself.

The man disappeared. Plank raised further out of the hatch and saw another Viet Cong fighter and fired at him too. Then he saw a third, whom he also shot.

He then saw where they were coming from: a 6-foot-deep by 4-foot-wide trench covered in brush running parallel to his tank.

“I thought it was clear but there was still some activity in trench, could hear movement, see brush moving,” Plank said in a 2019 interview for the U.S. Marine Corps Tankers Association oral history project.

Standing atop his tank he could see down in it.

Hearing chatter and movement, he knew but couldn’t see who was in it.

“I fired my pistol up and down where I thought they were, fired all three magazines, the ruckus settled down,” Plank said.

Out of rounds he looked to the rear, where he saw fellow Marine, Cpl. Robert O’Malley, tending to the wounded in his infantry squad. The corporal’s back was to the trench, brush continued moving as the crouched Viet Cong were moving down the line and toward them.

“I screamed at him, ‘They’re coming down the trench this way,’” Plank said.

O’Malley popped up and began firing his M14 into the trench. The corporal then leapt inside the trench and continued firing.

Plank could hardly believe the man’s bravery. He hopped back inside his tank and yelled for more ammo.

His crewmate tossed a 50-round box of .45-caliber rounds up to him and he began shoving them into his three empty magazines, ready to go back out to help O’Malley, even if it meant going into the trench armed only with a pistol.

Plank could hear the M14 ripping on automatic fire and the blast of hand grenades.

But within the scant minutes it took to reload and reemerge he saw O’Malley haul himself out of the trench, carrying an armful of enemy weapons.

“He had wiped them all out, saved a lot of lives,” Plank said.

After O’Malley and his squad evacuated the fight, Plank’s tank team continued ― each of his crewmates were injured during the operation. Some were killed in action in the following days; one tank was completely disabled while others were shot up so bad they hardly were operational.

Plank would celebrate his 19th birthday on the final day of Operation Starlite.

A little more than a year later, O’Malley would receive the Medal of Honor for fighting off the enemy as his wounded squad mates were evacuated from the firefight.

Nearly six decades later, Plank received his medal for actions that saved the corporal’s life.

In the back of every veteran’s closet, you’re likely to find some old uniforms, dusty caps, a stack of medical, training, and discharge records… maybe a few ribbons or medals. But these are just a few of the typical things that separated or retired service members keep with them. Other things, they’re stuck with forever.

So we compiled a list of the more non-traditional things that veterans carry for life.

1. An incessant need to roll socks

2. Bad knees

3. The misguided idea that ibuprofen and fresh socks will cure any ailment

4. Tinnitis. ZNNNNNNNNNG.

5. The ability to sleep anywhere

6. The plight of not being able to sleep at all

7. Old combat boots. They’re great for mowing the lawn or a trip to Home Depot.

8. Fear of tape tests

9. Issues with authority figures

10. Back pain

11. T-shirts from strange events and places they don’t remember going

12. A woobie that has seen better days.

13. A swearing problem that is FUBAR

14. A love/hate relationship with acronyms

15. Total disdain for PowerPoint

16. Scars from barracks shenanigans gone awry

17, A few ugly divorces

18. A truck they bought after gaining some sense and selling that Camaro they financed at 27% APR

19. Some weird strip club stories

20. Sleep apnea

21. Bad tattoos that seemed like a really good idea at the time

22. Boxy brown t-shirts that somehow have sweat stains in a different, more gross shade of brown

23. A deeply stained, never-before-washed coffee mug that they tell everyone is “seasoned”