“Colonel James Mason, United States Army,” he said, saluting briefly before being sworn in.
“Proceed,” Carmichael said.
Mason faced the court, voice steady. “I served with Staff Sergeant Walter Grady in Iraq, 2003. I’m here because this man saved my life—and the lives of seventeen others.”
He paused, letting the words sink in.
“During an ambush near Fallujah, our convoy was hit. A fuel truck caught fire. Staff Sergeant Grady drove it away from the rest of us while bullets tore through the cab. He was burned, bleeding, but he stayed behind the wheel until he crashed the vehicle clear of our position.”
A murmur swept through the gallery—half disbelief, half awe.
Mason continued, voice thickening. “When we regrouped, he went back—on foot—to pull out a wounded medic. Carried him two miles through the desert under fire.”
He turned toward the bench. “That medic’s name was Private First Class Michael Carmichael.”
