O Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side.
The summer's gone and all the roses falling;
It's you, it's you must go and I must bide.

But come ye back when summer's in the meadow,
Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow.
Yes, I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow;
Oh Danny Boy, oh Danny Boy, I love you so!

But when ye come, and all the flow'rs are dying,
If I am dead, as dead I well may be.
Ye'll come and find the place where I am lying,
And kneel and say an Ave there for me.

And I shall hear, though soft you tread above me;
And oh my grave will warmer, sweeter be,
For you will bend and tell me that you love me;
And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me!

Marine Down!

Not all casualties fall on the battle field... but they are born there... few can comprehend the death that springs to life in the heart... covered by the life of a friend.

What horror holds a day?

45 men walk away... then... just hours later... 4 remain... alive... yet not really... and... that was just one day... there were hundreds of days...

Can you know what it is to die... in your heart... yet live?

First there is the rage that captures the soul like a bandit... rage that lusts for... I'm sorry... but lusts for blood... "By god... they will pay!"

Yet... you soon learn... the more you kill... the more you die... and sooner than later you are repulsed by your lust.

Then you enter a fate worse than death... you try not to care.

How do you not care when another one falls... and another one dies... and another one's down...

...so then you hate... you hate the one who kills and you hate the one who dies... "DON'T YOU DIE ON ME YOU SORRY BASTARD!"

And you can never go home... yet one day you wake up to once familiar faces... but they don't know you... and you determine that they never will.

Then comes a dawn.... you remember the death that was born in your heart... buried in the life of another... and another... and another... and you grit your teeth... and you suck your gut... and you decide that by every ounce of being that might reside in your sorry excuse for breathing air... someone out there needs a marine.

He's a kid with no dad. She's a girl that's marked by... well... you know.

In the night you hear a thousand cries and thunder and lightening and... you can't stop the drive to do all you can to save that one lost soul... that one desperate whimper in the dark...

So... you decide to live until you die... and when death comes you spit in his face.

But by god... others now live... because you died a thousand times over.

Thanks Danny Boy,

It was an honor knowing you.

xtnyoda, shalomed