A man of valour resides somewhere in Iraq. Resides there until he is needed elsewhere. His name, well I don't know that. He is a brave man but one of modesty. He doesn't brag about his conquest or accomplishments. He isn't boastful. He is sober and strong. He is a Green Beret. If you were to meet him on the street you would never know that he has a Bronze Metal, and a V for valour. You would not be told that he was awarded the Silver Star in recent wars. He would not mention that even as a young man he has seen death. He is a survivor. I do know this, that sometime in his career to defend our country there was a battle. A battle in which there were 15 Marines with the enemy count of 600. The fighting was fierce and this same Marine received a shot to the face and arm. Of course that would be enough to make most men run, most men lay down and give up but bravely he stood with his troop, facing death for you and me. Honoring his fellow men and helping to keep our country free. In the end 15 were left standing while 400 of the enemy perished. 200 more surrendered. Thank you sir. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. It is because of people like you that I can own a home. That I can walk safely down the streets of America. It is people like you who are there on the front line when I sleep safely at home. I salute you and feel humbled by your gift. The gift of life. The gift of freedom. Thank you for making our world a better place to live. This story was told to me by my daughter who now is somewhere in Iraq.