A while back I sat in my truck and had a discussion with my daughters high school friend who was leaving the next morning. He had gone to the recruiters to become a Navy Seal so of course he was leaving the next day to report to the Army and become a combat medic. He had always intended to be a fire fighter but when my daughter entered West Point's class of 2015 he enlisted instead. He and my daughter stay in touch as much as possible. When he deployed to Afghanistan she was concerned but had faith in his ability to overcome. She missed many phone calls from him and he missed hers also. He made it back from Afghanistan a few days ago and got in touch with her. He told her his platoon had been in a firefight and soldiers had become separated from each other. He was alone at one point and heard radio traffic that soldiers had been hit by gunfire. He searched for the injured and found them. Two were not seriously injured but a third was not doing well. The firefight was still in progress but he provided medical care and kept the soldier alive. I think back to the young man in my truck the day before he left for basic training, the guy who loved playing high school football but had one too many concussions and a blown out knee, the guy who is just like so many other young men and women in our military, just reporting for duty every day doing their jobs and going home. They wouldn't want it any other way.