I still have my first CIB. It bent until the paint flaked off from being pounded so much. One of the pins broke off in my chest.
It’s a symbolic to being “earned in blood.”
I still hold on to it, hoping that one day I can place it on 1SG Barton’s grave in Hopkinsville.
His voice still ring in my ears, “I hope to God, that none of you ever get your CIBs”
I never understood those words until I was standing in formation at his funeral.