Semper Fidelus

The war in Iraq hit pretty close to home last week. Lance Corporal Anthony Charles Melia was killed in combat last week. I had the honor of coaching Anthony and knowing him and his family, and it breaks my heart to know the extent of their pain.

I was once told that grief is the most selfish emotion. To believe what I believe, it is true. I know Anthony was close to Jesus, and he is in heaven. I also know that this world cannot be a better place without him. He was so bright and charming. He was also the bravest person I know, and such an important part of his family and circle of friends, it is going to be tough for a lot of people for a long time.

When Tony was on my team, I nicknamed him "Captain Red Ass", because he "played angry". I know now that he simply "played bravely". He did it right to the end. I was told stories of his bravery and passion- two words that defined this young man. I remember the smile that everyone described as brightening up the room. I loved that smile too, but mostly because I know he smiled because he was always up to something. I told his dad a long time ago that he was going to keep him on his toes. His dad flashed that same smile Tony did. To compare that with the look on his father's face this week saddens me to no end.

I missed Anthony's send-off to Iraq. It was the weekend of my parents' anniversary and a couple weeks after surgery, and I was not worried that it would be the last time I would see him. Now I know better. I found out this week that when my son was born and I had to go with him to another hospital for his surgeries, Tony visited my wife in the original hospital, dressed in his uniform. That was him. Caring, respectful, and brave. While I am most sad that those closest to him have to press on without him, selfishly I know I will miss him to and wish I could see him again.

Tony's mother told the story that when he left, she asked him to promise her he wouldn't go first into danger. He promised her that he would always be the first. That summed up Tony so much. It also sums up the difficulty that a Marine's parents have to face in war time - the fact that their child's bravery could cost him or her their life.

So what do we do now? Here is how I will try and make sure his death does not fall by the wayside. I will make sure my sons and the kids I coach always know of his bravery. I will not speak negatively about the war or the soldiers (not that I ever have), and will never doubt their commitment to our country when it was clear the Marines do not question their mission. I will also realize that what I have seen this week has happened over 3,000 times, and each was equally devastating. I will always remember "Semper Fi" as well, and remember what it meant to each Marine present this last week.

I will also remember how much it hurt Tony's father to see people protesting a cause that cost him the brightest light in his sky. Protesting the war that had a mother lose her shining star. Belittling a cause that has so deeply impacted a family, a community and a corps.

Thank you Tony. Thank you for caring so much about people other than yourself. Thank you for caring so much about your country, your commitment and your corps. Thank you for being "always faithful" to your cause, even when you knew what it could cost you. Thank you for reminding me of what potential we all have. Thank you for being a leader. Thank you for being the best of the best. Thank you for being a hero.

Semper Fi.