In all the years we have been involved with our youth group, he was probably the biggest pain in the ass. A smart aleck, constantly challenging any and all authority. Often rudely to your face.

If there was trouble, he was usually close by. And things got only worse when he discovered the high flammability of coffee creamer. Could never keep him in uniform, and when he did wear it, it was with as much disrespect as he could muster. He was here just because his folks thought it would be good for him.

He straightened up a bit in his last year. Actually pleasant to be with, and showed good leadership with the younger recruits. Managed to earn the group's highest honor at the very end.

He tried community college for a year, but that didn't work out. And we heard he had joined the Marines. When I happened to visit with his mom a few months back, they weren't quite sure where he was.

Tonight was the Elks Street Dance, the usual beer and band festival in the middle of the intersection during Fair week. And as usual, our group was there selling popcorn and sodas.

Had two good visits with Rim, him stopping by with his well worn cowboy hat. Saw him coming the first time, and warned the wife I'd be gone for 30 minutes. We didn't actually go anywhere, staying there by the iced pop, but the wife timed it.

Forty-five minutes of conversation.

Almost as soon as Rim left, I was greeted by a young man, who strongly took my hand to shake.

Our young Marine. On a few weeks leave. His hair is in the same buzz cut, but he's filled out quite a bit. Muscled and hardened.

Seen quite a bit of the world now. Russia, China, Thailand, the Middle East.

He tells me the cities in Thailand are dirty, but they have the clearest, bluest lakes.

The Marines follow much the same code as we tried to teach, he says. Truth, Honor and Loyalty are no longer just words to him anymore.

And Duty. He understands duty now.

We talked about the flag raising on Iwo Jima. He knew the story of those Marines and their Flag. And seemed surprised I had read the recent book. Then his high school buddy came back, and they headed off to find other old friends.

When the first wave of Marines moved into Afghanistan I, like all Americans, was concerned for their well being. But grateful I didn't personally know any of those soldiers who had to go in.

I was wrong.