Under fire...we were there within minutes of the dispatched. Lightning had hit a house and started a fire in the attic. We got there in full turnout and grabbed the preconnect for a fast attack. The visibility in the house was crystal clear and very quiet. You can feel your heart beat. Its pounding from the adrenalin. We head up the flight of stairs and can hear it over us. The fire. We pull the ceiling with the pike poles and can see a sliver of an amber glow. It grows brighter the harder we pull. The harder we pull, the louder our airpacks sing with our exertion. We're matching the tempo of the fire. Finally there is an opening and the water pushes forward from the nozzle. For a minute it blazes against us. The air whipping around us and muffled sounds from our radios report of additional units on the scene. We continue to pull ceiling and push the fire, pressing it hard because this is what we do. It is our element. Extreme heat, toxic gases, reduce oxygen and adrenalin. Doing a job. On Memorial Day.

Under fire...I've been in this desert before. This stinking hell hole that my government sent me to. To help pacify a culture that has been fighting for thousands of years. I've been drinking water to stay hydrated. The temperature of the water never really cools down. It's like drinking hot coffee during the day and having warm soup at night. Except it's water. And I cannot keep enough of it down. I had diarrhea earlier and still feel the effects. My head is spinning and the heat is sapping us all. Tomorrow we execute a mission to secure a forward area for a larger outfit. The Op order is simple enough. Get into town. Be the eyes and ears, recon and be ready to call for fire support.

The team is up and moving by 0100. Darkness will conceal our movements. There is only four of us. We moved into the first house and it too, was very quiet. So quiet, it was deafening. I can feel my heart beat. It is pounding so hard that I though that if anyone was near, could hear it. I think they did. The first rounds go ripping through the room like a crazy John Woo movie. Only difference is, I'm in this one. Shots are being placed in the direction that we are receiving it. Long bursts of fire come in at us from all directions. It's over head. The M249 sings aloud cry of anger and we toss, what I only assume is, furniture around to try and give us a little more cover. This sucks. But this is my element. I am here to fight.

Under fire...I'm dragging a friend to cover. He's got a gunshot to the belly. The blood seems like it's everywhere. At times I think it is me. It's bright red and I keep slipping on it trying to pull him. He's heavy with all this gear. I didn't know any better at the time. I just keep pulling. I can feel the surface tension break around me from the bullets trying to finish the job. I am so angry I am crying. Rage is swelling like a symphony in my ears and I want to hurt back. But when we finally get to cover, I hear him ask "am I going to die?". I pull out the pressure bandages that we have and try through trembling fingers to apply it and hold pressure. My hand presses into his stomach and he screams in pure agony. I'm too young to know what the insides of another man should feel like. They didn't teach me this. All I can say is hold on...

Under fire...I hear a slew of choice words come in my direction. I know she's angry. But why is she yelling at me? She called 911. I'm the guy that showed up. My gear is still heavy from the stench of the last fire. I am very tired and not in the mood to deal with her accusations of not being concerned about her well being. She is far off base about her tax dollars paying for my salary, because in my city, the mayor believes in a low tax based. He runs the city like a business and the companies that the city owns pays for my salary. Nevertheless, I am here as a professional to help. The call is pretty simple. Wipe up poop and wait for an ambulance. Apparently, we are not doing enough and the next day heralds a letter from her to the chief. It is riffled with claims of unprofessional conduct, taxes and upcoming elections. She is very eloquent with her words. I do not know why she lives in the slums. I expect her Lamborghinni is in the shop.

Today is Memorial Day. We have all walked paths that ultimately converge into what we are today. Me? I am here to help as best as I can. Sometimes, it is not good enough. Other times, the praises are overkill. I have realized that I will always serve humanity. In the public safety sector, the citizens dictate where I go and why. I am inserted into their chaos for a short while. In the military sector, my government chambers me in the breach, points the barrel down range and pulls the trigger. I managed to come back. Some of my friends did not.

Whether it is the firefighters than ran into the Twin Towers or the soldiers on point, I remember you. I will always. You are my brothers and sisters and I love you. For you, I continue your legacy. I hope that I will live up to the shinning example that you set. Thank you for your sacrifice.