"The only hope you have is to get her to an American hospital?" Cummings asked, repeating what Izzy had just said. Izzy started to answer. The cell p… - David Finkelstein

For now, Kauzlarich though that giving soccer balls to Iraqi children who would run up to his Humvee screaming, "Mister, mister," was having a positive effect. A child would take home a soccer ball; his parents would ask where it came from; he would say, "The Americans"; the parents would be delighted; their confidence would increase; they would be more willing to make the difficult decisions of reconciliation; Baghdad would become secure; democracy in Iraq would thrive; the war would be won. Eventually, Kauzlarich would give up on soccer balls.

Most of the Soldiers he got weren't that way. A lot of them were great, some were brilliant, and almost all were unquestionably courageous: Sergeant Gietz, who was being nominated for a bronze star medal with Valor for what he had done in June. Adam Schumann, who had carried Sergeant Emory on his back. The list went on and on. Every company. Every platoon. Every soldier, really, because now, in July, as the explosions kept coming, and coming, the daily act of them jumping into Humvees to go out the wire and straight into what they knew was waiting for them began to seem the very definition of bravery.

Four of the Soldiers scrambled out a door and got out of the trench relatively dry, but the gunner was trapped inside. "He was yelling," Staff Sergeant Arthur Enriquez would remember afterward, and if there was any hesitation about what to do next, it was only because, "I didn't want to jump in the poo water." <br/k> And then? <br/k> "I jumped into the damn poo water"