 The Medal of Honor, the highest honor a grateful nation can award its military heroes for acts of courage, self-sacrifice, and dedication above and beyond the call of duty. The history of America's survival is written in the blood of its fighting people whose devotion knew no limits. For the past 50 years fighting men who wore the silver wings came from all over America when their country called. They learned to fly, they learned to fight, and they never flinched from facing combat. Some lived through two world wars, many paid the full price. This is their story. Born in 1911 in Michigan, Maynard Smith was the only son in a family of six. He attended school in Cairo spending his final two years at Howell Military Academy in Indiana. His peacetime career as a government accountant ended abruptly on December 7th, 1941. Now 31 years old, Smith enlisted in the Air Corps. He wanted to be an aerial gunner. Following basic training he successfully completed an intensified nine-week course in aerial gunnery on the ground and in the air. Next came B-17 crew training. Smith's specialty was the ball turret, perhaps the most vulnerable spot in the aircraft, designed for one purpose only, heavy concentrated fire at attacking fighters. After that a bomber base in England where he would soon fly his first combat mission. The target was one of the most strongly defended on the continent, the Nazi U-boat bases on the northern coast of France. Early morning, May 1st, 1943, 36 four-engine B-17s took off for a daylight strike against the San Lazare submarine tank. The battle over San Lazare is a classic example of the savagery with which the air war over Europe was fought. Within minutes after bombs away Smith's plane was severely damaged by fire from anti-aircraft guns and enemy fighters. Two of the 10-man crew were seriously wounded. The oxygen system was shot out, vital control cables severed, fires raged in the radio compartment and in the waste section of the airplane. Basing an apparently hopeless situation, several crew members bailed out into the comparative safety of the sea below. But not Smith, he began to fight the fire by himself, then administered first aid to the wounded tail gun. When enemy fighters continued to attack, he manned the waste guns and fought them off. Escaping oxygen fanned the fire to such intensity that ammunition in the radio section began to explode. Smith threw the hot ammunition belts out of the plane. Then, wrapping himself in protective cloth, he completely extinguished the fire. Only a handful of our bombers returned, few without dead or wounded. One of those returning was the severely damaged B-17 carrying Smith, its remaining engines barely functioning. For the pilot and the other survivors of that plane, it was a miraculous escape. Miraculous? No doubt. But perhaps more accurately, a remarkable demonstration of dedication and raw courage of one man. His reward? The Medal of Honor, its citation read in March. This soldier's gallantry in action, undaunted bravery and loyalty to his aircraft and fellow crew members, without regard for his own personal safety, is an inspiration to the armed forces of the United States.