Nothing defines a society like the individuals we elevate, praise, and emulate. The pinnacle of a society’s heritage consists of its pageant of heroes, passed from parents to children for centuries, perhaps millennia, because it embodies the values of the culture. It lights a fire in the hearts of each succeeding generation to be something more, to stand for something, to be not unworthy of their ancestors’ achievements.

The Romans called it “pietas“—piety—“a respectful and faithful attachment to gods, country, and relatives, especially parents.”

The paragon of piety in the Roman tradition is the character of Aeneas from Virgil’s epic poem “The Aeneid.” Aeneas flees the blistering, burning city of Troy when it is overrun by the Greeks, and brings with him his father (literally carried on his shoulders) along with the “lares” and “penates,” the household gods, which in Roman religion included the hero-spirits of one’s ancestors.

Part of this Roman piety showcased by Aeneas, then, is the preserving and honoring of those who have gone before. Aeneas, according to the legend, becomes the founder of Rome, but it is unthinkable that he would leave the household gods, his heritage, behind him. He brings them with him all the way to Latium, where Rome will eventually be established.

Aeneas both preserves the heroes of the past and becomes a hero himself in that he lives out the Roman ideal of piety.

Heroes embody our principles, as well as our vision for the future. This is one reason why literature and history are so important to a nation’s culture: They preserve and maintain a consensus of what a society values and aspires to.

Who today would the vast majority of Americans agree were true heroes? World War II American medic Desmond Doss may be one. The Oscar-nominated 2016 film “Hacksaw Ridge” was based on the life of Corporal Desmond Doss and received 91 percent positive reviews from audiences according to the film review aggregate, Rotten Tomatoes.

A recipient of the Medal of Honor, Doss consistently shows up on lists of the greatest American World War II heroes. Clearly, many Americans regard him very highly. For those who don’t already know his story, I will briefly recap it here.

Doss was born in Lynchburg, Virginia, in 1919. His parents were William Doss, a carpenter, and Bertha Doss, a homemaker and shoe factory worker. Doss was raised as a Seventh-day Adventist, and he firmly embraced this religion. He married Dorothy Schutte in 1942, and the same year joined the U.S. Army, despite being offered a deferment.

He registered as a conscientious objector, however, since he did not believe in using a gun or killing. He emphasized that he was really a “conscientious cooperator,” since he was willing to go on the battlefield, wear the uniform, and so on, but not carry or use a weapon. In addition, he requested a weekly pass to attend church every Saturday.

Doss’s peculiar beliefs along with his small frame made him an object of mockery and derision among his fellow soldiers. One even threatened, “Doss, as soon as we get into combat, I’ll make sure you won’t come back alive.”

The officers also persecuted him and tried to get rid of him. They eventually attempted to court-martial him for refusing the direct order to carry a gun. These efforts were unsuccessful, however, and Doss declined to leave—and declined to hold a grudge.

The full extent of Doss’s true mettle was revealed when he took part in the American attack on Okinawa in 1945. The Germans were surrendering at this time, but the Japanese fought on, trying to hold the island and its Maeda Escarpment in order to prevent an invasion of Japan itself. The soldiers referred to the Maeda Escarpment, a sheer rock face, as Hacksaw Ridge.

Doss’s company secured the top of the ridge, but the Japanese launched a devastating counterattack. Officers ordered a retreat, and the Americans rushed back down the cliff. But not Doss.

Once again, Doss disobeyed an order for the sake of what he saw as a greater good. He remained behind, answering the calls for a medic from the many wounded men still on the battlefield (less than a third had made it back down the cliff).

Completely disregarding his own safety, amidst the choking dust and smoke, shock waves of explosions, and the hiss of bullets, Doss ran from one comrade to the next, treating their wounds, dragging them to safety, and lowering them down the cliff face. He even attempted to save some Japanese soldiers. In all, he rescued at least 75 men on that day, May 5, 1945.

The American troops captured the ridge, and eventually all of Okinawa. Several days after his great act of heroism, Doss was wounded by a grenade and a sniper’s bullet. Still, he thought of others over himself: He insisted that his litter-bearers rescue a wounded comrade before they rescued him.

Doss survived the war, though he suffered from tuberculosis (likely as a result of the terrible conditions on the Pacific islands) for six years afterwards, and lived most of his life with only one lung. He died on March 23, 2006, aged 87.

So, what universally admired aspects of the American character does Doss reveal to us? In the first place, courage. At our best, we are a bold and brave people, who know what our goal is, and aim straight for it, regardless of contradictions or obstacles (even sheer cliff-faces).

This trait grows, in part, out of our individualism. Individualism is a double-edged sword, but we see in Doss something of its best form: a quiet independence and rock-solid adherence to his principles and conscience. He knew when to disobey a lower law or expectation for the sake of something higher.

Finally, Doss demonstrates the remarkable compassion and self-sacrifice valued by Americans. Care for the downtrodden, the sick, the wounded, when rightly directed, is among the best of traits of our culture. Doss gives an example of this kind of care, a care that doesn’t hesitate to suffer on a personal level—pain or even death—for one’s fellow citizens.