This Memorial Day, you could do much worse than remember John Basilone.

Eighty years ago, the U.S. military was grinding it out from one Japanese-held Pacific island to another in a brutal, costly campaign as gut-wrenching as any in American history.

Basilone has an honored place in this story. Born in Buffalo and raised in New Jersey by his Italian-American parents, he enlisted in the Army in the 1930s as a teenager. Then, after a stint as a civilian, he signed up for the Marines in 1940. During the Battle of Guadalcanal in 1942, he almost single-handedly held off a massive assault by a Japanese regiment against two machine gun sections he commanded.

Basilone’s exploits were worthy of an over-the-top scene from a war movie, or a great-hearted warrior from an ancient epic.

When the Japanese disabled one of the American gun crews, Basilone moved another machine gun into position and personally manned it, and also repaired another gun under heavy fire. When they needed more supplies, Basilone ran through Japanese lines to get the ammunition, defending himself with his Colt .45.

He fought for days and, by the end, he and his comrades had basically annihilated the Japanese attackers. Basilone lost his asbestos gloves in the chaos and still handled the searing machine gun barrels.

He’d been, as Douglas MacArthur put it later, a “one man army.” Nash Phillips, a private who was wounded in the fight, recalled, “Basilone had a machine gun on the go for three days and nights without sleep, rest or food.”

Phillips described Basilone coming to see him when he was getting medical treatment: “He was barefooted and his eyes were red as fire. His face was dirty black from gunfire and lack of sleep. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his shoulders. He had a .45 tucked into the waistband of his trousers. He’d just dropped by to see how I was making out; me and the others in the section. I’ll never forget him. He’ll never be dead in my mind!”

Basilone was awarded the Medal of Honor and afforded, appropriately, a hero’s welcome back in the States. He participated in the campaign to sell war bonds.

His conduct at Guadalcanal would be more than enough valor in one life for the rest of us, but Basilone wanted back in the fight. The Marines told him he was more valuable at home and denied his request. Basilone insisted, and the Marines eventually relented.

He was a machine gun section leader again in February 1945, on the first day of the invasion of Iwo Jima, a godforsaken hunk of volcanic rock in the middle of the Pacific. The dug-in Japanese chewed up the Americans on the beaches. Basilone flanked a Japanese blockhouse, climbed atop it, and took it out on his own. He then led a Marine tank out of a minefield, before getting fatally hit.

For this action, he posthumously received the Navy Cross. The citation refers to him as “stouthearted and indomitable,” and praises “his intrepid initiative, outstanding skill, and valiant spirit of self-sacrifice.”

We remember the likes of John Basilone to honor his sacrifice and to remind us of the blood and toil that has kept us safe and free. And also, one hopes, to inspire others to try to match his example, if and when the time of testing comes.

Bridges and Navy ships have been named after him, and Basilone was a featured character in the Steven Spielberg HBO series “The Pacific.” Raritan, New Jersey, still has an annual parade in honor of the hometown hero, and has an unabashedly heroic, larger-than-life statue of Basilone cradling a machine gun — emphatically someone not to be messed with.

Basilone had a tattoo on his arm that read, “Death before Dishonor.” He took that imperative seriously. We owe an immeasurable debt to him and all American warriors who have done the same.

© 2025 by King Features Syndicate