| | He led a squad of Marines in clearing two large residences in Tarmiya, Iraq, filled with Iraqi fighters. The battle ended only after Martinez single-handedly charged an enemy bunker and used a grenade and his rifle to kill the five insurgents inside.
“The grenade blew up. I saw half-bodies flying through the air, arms flying,” he says. “I can't emphasize enough how violent and fast the close-quarter battle is.”
Most medal recipients question whether they deserved the honor. “I have my definition of a hero and names I put there. And my name doesn't fit,” says Hollenbaugh, recipient of the Distinguished Service Cross for his rooftop defense on April 26, 2004.
In a rare gesture, Marine Cpl. Dominic Esquibel declined the Navy Cross he earned on Nov. 25, 2004, as a scout sniper. On that day, he destroyed two enemy machine gun nests and saved two of five Marines who lay wounded in a Fallujah courtyard. Marine Lt. Col. Curtis Hill says Esquibel turned down the award “for personal reasons.” Hill declined to elaborate.
Some recipients say the medal can be difficult to bear, either because it begs comparison with heroes of the past, or because it reminds them of a terrible day.
“I didn't wear my medal. I didn't want to wear it,” says Marine Sgt. Jeremiah Workman, who received the Navy Cross for fighting his way up a Fallujah stairwell three different times to save fellow Marines or recover their bodies. Three Marines and 47 insurgents died there. “I looked at it (the medal), and all I had was bad memories.”
The medals don't shield recipients from the lingering emotional effects of combat. Workman, ultimately diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), had been transferred to Parris Island, S.C., to be a drill instructor when the demons of that day in 2003 caused him to suffer an emotional “meltdown” in the chow hall.
“I was in a world of (trouble). I was heading down fast,” he says.
His wife, Jessica, found him toying with a rifle in the garage of her parents' home during a visit there last June. Since then, counseling has eased his stress, she says.
“I'm not going to say I'm out of the ocean yet,” he says. “But at least my head's above water.”
Jessica Workman says the medal creates its own stress.
“In the long run, I think it caused him a lot more trouble,” she says. “Everyone kind of looks up to him, and it's hard when he hasn't even sorted out all his issues yet.”
Fonseca says his stress led him to alcohol abuse that grew worse after the Navy Cross was awarded. “I was in denial,” he says. “I was looked upon as this doc who did great things out there in Iraq. And so it was hard for me to say that I needed help, that I was having nightmares and dealing with issues I couldn't control.”
Fonseca says he was lucky his commanders intervened to see he got counseling and medication. Now Fonseca lectures on the issue of PTSD. He has come to grips with knowing that even a hero, a Navy Cross recipient, can have flaws.
“It was like Superman coming out and saying, ‘OK, Kryptonite is my weakness.' PTSD was my weakness,” he says.
Montoya, the Marine reservist and sheriff's deputy, earned his Navy Cross for heroism on April 8, 2003, when he rushed into the open on five separate occasions to rescue a civilian and Marines.
In one instance, he hoisted a Marine over his shoulder and ran 200 yards despite enemy fire. “I could feel I was going to get shot,” he says. He wasn't.
As a medal recipient, Montoya has visited with veterans groups, and the old warriors embraced him, expressed pride in his heroism and taught him that he was now part of a military legacy.
“I am just learning now to become more proud of my award,” Montoya says. “But I also want to make the distinction that it is not mine. I basically hold the Navy Cross in trust for the next generation of Marines that come aboard.”
Combat Mettle Not Exclusively Male
Men aren't the only heroes on the battlefield.
Army National Guard Sgt. Leigh Ann Hester, 24, of Nashville earned the Silver Star for her actions in Iraq. She is the first woman since World War II to receive the nation's third-highest award for battlefield valor.
Since the Sept. 11 attacks, nearly 400 Silver Stars have been awarded.
Hester and two men in her military police unit — Staff Sgt. Timothy Nein and Spc. Jason Mike — received Silver Stars for their actions March 20, 2004. Insurgents ambushed a U.S. military convoy outside Baghdad, firing rocket-propelled grenades and automatic weapons from trenches along the roadway. Hester led her troops through those trenches, killing more than two dozen of the attackers.
Pentagon policy does not allow women to serve in combat units. But the guerrilla nature of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan has exposed women in military police and transportation units to combat. Sixty-seven female troops have died in the two countries.
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