For 34 years, my Dragon kicked my ass. My Dragon was huge. He

smelled like death, he breathed fire, and last week I faced him. Oh,

he had me in the early stages of the fight, but I came back.

I went to the CAP Marines reunion in Washington. Meeting up with a

buddy from boot camp, we picked up the conversation where we left it

in 1969. If Dale hadn't gotten so damn old, I would have expected

the DI to come storming into the squad bay for some quality time.

It was good to put faces on the names I've seen on the web site. By

the second day, everyone looked and acted like I should have

expected them to.

Being in D.C. for the first time- hell, being around more than 2

Marines for the first time in a long time- we visited the memorials.

When I walked up to the Iwo memorial, I could feel the brotherhood

welcoming me back. 228 years of Marine tradition smacked me up side

the head and reminded me of what made me a Marine. As she looked

into the faces in the Iwo memorial, my wife said to me, "Their

families must be very proud of them". Just before I choked up

completely, I managed to say to her, "We are".

That is when it hit me that I am still a Marine. No matter where I

go, my brothers will be there. Somebody has my 6. And I have theirs.

That is when I knew my Dragon's ass was as good as kicked.

The first time we went to the Wall was in daylight. We were in a big

group with wives and even a few kids. Several of the guys had

prepped me for the wall, and had given me some pointers about the

Dragon's weaknesses, but it was still my Dragon, my fight; it was up

to me to face him.

As we neared the Wall, I could smell him and feel the heat from the

fire he breathed. When I got to the center, I made my stand. That

fucking Dragon was everywhere. He stood 10 feet tall and went as far

as I could see in either direction.

The Dragon drew first blood. As I stood there facing him, he cut me

deep. I thought he was just going to stomp me into the mud. Then, at

the last minute, Gunny put his arm around my shoulder. Mike was on

my other side. 36 hours earlier I had never laid eyes on either of

them, and now they were on my flanks. There was no way I could have

let them down. They had my back and gave me the stuff to fight back.

Since Gunny's always know what to do, he asked the volunteer to make

a rubbing for me. I gave her the name and location of my A-gunner.

As she was on a ladder making a rubbing at the top of a panel, I

stared at the panel in front of me, and there it was. My name jumped

out of the granite and punched me harder than my DI ever could.

Admittedly, I have a very common name and it can be found just about

anyplace. But it was right there. The only name I could see. I have

known all along that I should have been on the Wall, and there was

the proof. The Dragon had taken his best shot and I was still

standing. True, I was still standing because Gunny was holding me

up, but aren't we all? Ira Hayes and Doc Bradley are still standing

because we are holding them up. We are still standing because Ira

Hayes and Doc Bradley are holding us up. But we are standing.

I went back to the Wall the next day and killed that son of a bitch

dead. I found way too many names and made rubbings of them,

including mine.

The next time I went back was late at night. It was a very different

place. No fiery breath, no smell, just soft lights on a perfect

night. I talked with all the guys on the Wall and apologized for

being on this side while they are on that side. They told me not to

worry about it, it don't mean nothin'. The night closed around us and

it was quiet.

Fuck you, Dragon.