We're fine operating in the dark; we all have night-vision goggles. But the Marines issue them only to their leadership. We own the night; the Marine… - David Bellavia

The Ramrods were part of the legendary 1st Infantry Division. Movies have been made on the Big Red One for its actions on D-Day and through Europe during World War II. The Fighting First fought in nearly every major American battle of World War I; it saw combat for five years in Vietnam before being forward deployed to Germany to face the Warsaw Pact/Soviet threat during the final decades of the Cold War. The Big Red One is the backbone of the American infantry. These days, it is sometimes overshadowed by the airborne divisions in the popular press. The 1st Infantry Division, with the Ramrods at the top of the spear, has won every battle it has fought since 1918.

The gunman on the roof was a teenaged boy, maybe sixteen years old. I could see him scanning for targets, his back to me. He held an AK-47 without a stock. Was he just a stupid kid trying to protect his family? Was he one of Muqtada al-Sadr's Shiite fanatics? I kept my eyes on him and prayed he'd put the AK down and just get back inside his own house. I didn't want to shoot him. He turned and saw me, and I could see the terror on his sweat-streaked face. I put him in my sights just as he adjusted the AK against his shoulder. I had beaten him on the draw. My own rifle was snug on my shoulder, the sight resting on him. The kid stood no chance. My weapon just needed a flick of the safety and a butterfly's kiss of pressure on the trigger.
Please don't do this. You don't need to die.
The AK went to full ready-up. Was he aiming at me? I couldn't be sure, but the barrel was trained at my level. Do I shoot? Do I risk not shooting? Was he silently trying to save me from some unseen threat? I didn't know. I had to make a decision.
Please forgive me for this.
I pulled my trigger. The kid's chin fell to his chest, and a guttural moan escaped his lips. I fired again, missed, then pulled the trigger one more time. The bullet tore his jaw and ear off. Sergeant Hall came up alongside me, saw the AK and the boy, and finished him with four shots to his chest. He slumped against the low rooftop wall. "Thanks, dude. I lost my zero," I said to Hall, explaining that my rifle sights were off-line, though that was the last thing going through my mind.

I served with some of the greatest men I've ever met in my entire life. And I truly believe that 99 percent of our military is Medal of Honor capable. Any soldier who is put in a position to bleed in order to save people would do exactly what I did. This is who we are and how we were raised in the Armed Forces. There are a million reasons why we're divided in this country, but I've never cared what your skin color was, who you worshipped, how you voted, or who you loved. Male, female, if you are willing to get shot at for me and my buddies, I will follow you, and I will lead you anywhere. We're family. That's what makes us elite American warriors. When I was younger, I thought I needed hate to win, hate and anger at my enemy to sustain myself. Now, as I look back, I recognize that we don't fight out of hate. We fight for love- love of our country, our homeland, our family, and our unit. That's stronger than anything the enemy has.