'He was just a genuine human'

When Cpl. Jason Dunham was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor in January, his family said they were both proud of his bravery and devastated by his sacrifice.

His Marine family still feels the same way.

“I think about him every day,” said Sgt. Billy Hampton, who served alongside Dunham in Iraq. “Everything reminds me about Jason. Every time I look in the mirror and see those scars, I remember what he did.”

Dunham was only the second servicemember to receive the nation’s highest military honor for the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, and the first Marine.

The process took almost three years, but his friends and family said they knew his heroism would eventually be recognized.

“A Marine’s Marine”

Dunham’s family and friends describe him as far from the stereotypical Marine. While both fit and fearless, he wasn’t an angry, hulking caricature of a military man.

“He wasn’t a yeller. He wasn’t an intimidator. He was just a genuine human,” said Maj. Trent Gibson, Dunham’s company commander.

“He knew how to be a human being. He knew how to respect people. His Marines admired him for that, and they respected him for that, and they followed him for that.

“He was a Marine’s Marine.”

Dunham’s platoon commander, 1st Lt. Brian Robinson, said that when Dunham first arrived in Iraq, the upstate New York native re-enlisted to make sure his tour would be as long as the rest of his company’s stay.

“He didn’t want to leave early if they weren’t going to be able to,” Robinson said.

Dunham would often talk to the younger Marines in the company, treating them as equals rather than lower-ranking enlisted troops.

Just a few days before his death, Dunham spent the night relaxing with several of those Marines talking about ways to stay safe in an ambush. Several wondered if a helmet could withstand a grenade blast if one landed nearby, and Dunham himself wondered whether anyone could get the Kevlar headgear off quick enough in such a scenario.

Other Marines remembered Dunham as someone who was tough but fair, listening to their side of the story before chewing them out or offering them help.

“He made you feel like a person,” Hampton said. “He made you feel like you were actually part of the brotherhood.”

“That’s Dunham’s helmet”

Hampton was beside Dunham on April 14, 2004. Dunham, 22, was supposed to be leading the squad on patrol for the first time, but that mission was scratched when another unit came under attack.

As they rushed to the scene, another attacker fired an RPG across the hood of the squad’s lead Humvee. The troops immediately began combing the area, and stopped traffic to search the cars for any other insurgents.

Hampton said he had just finished looking through a bus when he saw an Iraqi leap out of his SUV and punch Dunham. Both Hampton and then-Pfc. Kelly Miller rushed to help him.

As he reached the attacker, “I looked down, I saw Jason with his helmet off,” he said. “I couldn’t figure out why. I thought maybe during the fight the Iraqi had pulled it off or something.

“He was up on top of [the helmet]. And that’s when the grenade went off.”

Hampton said he had no idea what exploded, but suddenly found himself flat on his back and bleeding from shrapnel to his arms and legs. Miller was also blown back and suffered similar wounds.

Witnesses later said the Iraqi had dropped the live grenade as he and Dunham fought. Without hesitation, Dunham pulled off his helmet and jumped on top, hoping to shield his Marines from the blast.

The Iraqi survived the blast but was killed trying to flee. All three Marines were quickly evacuated from the scene.

Gibson said that when he arrived, the other Marines had gathered all of Dunham’s equipment but couldn’t find his helmet. Someone suggested he may have used it to try and contain the grenade.

“I’m looking around and there are tiny scraps of Kevlar all over the road,” he said. “I told the Marines, ‘Start picking it up; that’s Dunham’s helmet.’ ”

Both Miller and Hampton had severe injuries, but nothing life-threatening. Dunham absorbed most of the blast and shrapnel.

Hampton said after he was stabilized he rushed to find Dunham and see what support he could offer, but “every time I tried talking to him, I broke down.”

Dunham died eight days later at the National Naval Medical Center in Bethesda, Md.

“I wouldn’t be alive”

At the White House ceremony where Dunham’s family was presented with his Medal of Honor, President Bush praised him as the ultimate example of a hero.

“On a dusty road in western Iraq, Cpl. Dunham gave his own life so that the men under his command might live,” he said.

Gibson said that was no surprise.

“None of it surprised me the day it happened,” he said. “It just seemed perfectly natural for him to do it.

“A reporter asked me how someone could decide to jump on a live grenade. It’s not a decision. It’s your instinct as a Marine to confront a threat and protect your other Marines.”

Hampton said every time he hears the story about another Marine receiving a medal or some sort of heroic act in Iraq, it seems hollow to him because he compares it to Dunham’s sacrifice.

“I wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for Jason. My daughter wouldn’t have been born if it wasn’t for Jason.”