Zeke Walter Keith Singleton came out of Memphis with the kind of drive that did not let you walk away. In 1963 he and his brother signed up for the Marines, stepping into a world where softness died quick. Training, promotion's, Okinawa. Then Vietnam in December 1966, a place where every sunrise felt like a coin toss.
It was on March 24, 1967 when his platoon was in a raging gunfight. Men were falling left and right, a condition which makes most humans freeze up. Singleton didn't freeze. He walked out of his cover and ran headlong into the danger zone over and over again, pulling his wounded men behind him as if he didn't care for death closing in around him. But it wasn't quite enough for him to lose men. He desired combat to end.He noticed a line of bushes firing bullets at his patrol. He grabbed a machine gun and ran ahead. Alone. He fired and continued firing, killing eight enemy soldiers and making the rest flee. The bullet's struck him in any event. He was twenty-two.
His sacrifice gave others a chance. The Medal of Honor marked his name forever.

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