FORT HOOD, Texas — Pfc. Marquest Smith, on his way to Afghanistan in January, was completing routine paperwork about a bee-sting allergy when the sounds erupted.

A loud, popping noise. Moans. The sudden, urgent shout of "Gun!"

Smith poked his head over the cubicle's partition and saw an extraordinary sight: An Army officer with two guns, firing into the crowded room.

The 21-year-old Fort Worth native quickly grabbed the civilian worker who'd been helping with his paperwork and forced her under the desk. He lay low for several minutes, waiting for the shooter to run out of ammunition and wishing he, too, had a gun.

After the shooter stopped to reload, Smith made a run for it. Pushing two other soldiers in front of him, he made it out of the Soldier Readiness Processing center — only to plunge into the building twice more to help the wounded.

Smith had survived the worst mass shooting on an American military base, a rampage that left 13 dead and 30 wounded, including the alleged shooter, Army psychiatrist Maj. Nidal Malik Hasan.

It could have been much worse, but for the heroics of Smith and others — like the 19-year-old private who ignored her own wounds, and the diminutive civilian police officer who single-handedly took down Hasan.

"Unfortunately over the past eight years, our Army has been no stranger to tragedy," said a somber Gen. George Casey, Army chief of staff. "But we are an Army that draws strength from adversity. And hearing the stories of courage and heroism that I heard today makes me proud to be the leader of this great Army."

Home of the 1st Cavalry and 1st Army Division West, Fort Hood has seen more than its share of deployments and casualties in the past eight years.

As a psychiatrist, Hasan, 39, had listened to soldiers' tales of horror. Now, the American-born Muslim was facing imminent deployment to Afghanistan. In recent days, Hasan had been saying goodbye to friends. He had given away many of his possessions, including copies of the Quran.

At 2:37 a.m. Thursday and again around 5, Hasan called neighbor Willie Bell. Bell could normally hear Hasan's morning prayers through the thin apartment walls, but Hasan skipped the ritual Thursday.

Bell didn't pick up either time, but Hasan left a message.

"Nice knowing you, old friend," Hasan said. "I'm going to miss you."

About an hour later, surveillance cameras at a 7-Eleven across from the base captured images of a smiling Hasan, dressed in a long white garment and white kufi prayer cap, buying his usual breakfast — coffee and a hash brown.