HISTORIC BERLIN CEMETERY MEDAL OF HONOR WAR MEMORIAL

First Lieutenant Rouh had been moving his mortar platoon near the top of a small coral ridge in preparation for digging in for the night, according to a field dispatch from SSgt James F. Moser Jr., a Marine Corps Combat Correspondent. 1stLt Rouh decided to inspect an apparently empty Japanese dugout before permitting his men to use it.
A few minutes before, a flame-throwing squad had blasted fire into the position. Near the entrance, two of the enemy lay dead. 1stLt Rouh could hear nothing. He stepped over the pair, and into the dark interior, his carbine ready. Creeping along the wall, he could see stores of supplies. He saw no life.
Suddenly a shot rang out, hitting the lieutenant in the left side. He stumbled back to his men outside. Several Japanese followed, throwing grenades. Fragments filled the air. One grenade landed close to the lieutenant and two of his men. There was no escape, for the Japanese had held it too long to be thrown back.
Despite his weakened condition, Rouh shoved his two comrades to the ground to save them from flying fragments. He dropped his carbine and dove for the grenade. He was down on his elbows and one knee when the grenade exploded. His abdomen and chest caught the blast, and he sank to the ground. None of his men were hit.
Still conscious, Rouh could half hear and see the rest of the fight. Tommy gun rounds rang out, killing the remaining Japanese survivors. One of his men stood over him. First Lieutenant Rouh’s body was pock-marked by the grenade blast. One steel fragment had passed through his left lung and lodged near his heart. Other fragments sprayed his chest, left side and left arm.
Still under enemy artillery and mortar fire, he was given first aid by a passing doctor, and was carried back to a casualty evacuation point. “That was a miserable trip back,” he said. “I thought they would get all the men with me. But somehow we made it.”