"We fight for each other here."

Perspective

AMONG THE MARINES I'll remember most from my recent reporting trip to Iraq are two I never met.

Both were young and dedicated to the men in their command. Both defied the stereotype about young men enlisting in the Marine Corps only because they lack economic options.

And both were killed in the weeks before I arrived.

Corporal Nicholas Rapavi, 22, of Springfield, Virginia, was killed November 24 by a sniper's bullet while leading his men on a resupply mission to a police station in Saqlawiyah. First Lieutenant Nathan Krissoff, 25, of Truckee, Nevada, was killed December 9 by a roadside bomb while riding in a Humvee outside Fallouja.

After four extended trips, I am less sure about how the U.S. mission in Iraq will end. But I am more sure than ever about the special bond among Marines, and that the use of Shakespeare's line about a "band of brothers" is not unjustified.

If a man can be measured by the impact his passing has on those around him, Rapavi and Krissoff were giants. Weeks after his death, Rapavi's buddies could speak of him only in hushed tones. Krissoff's memorial service, which I attended, was filled with tears and a uniquely Marine ritual: Marines who wanted to hug, but instead slapped each other on the back and shoulders.

"They need to touch each other," said Navy Commander Mark Smith, a Presbyterian chaplain. "I've heard them talk about 'hugging it out.' But they want to do it in a manly way."

Krisssoff, a college swimmer and kayaker, was an intelligence officer with the 3rd Reconnaissance Battalion. His father is a physician. Hundreds of grim-faced Marines, soldiers and sailors filed into the auditorium at Camp Fallouja that day to mourn. Lieutenant Colonel William Seely called Krissoff a "modern-day knight" who felt a moral need to rid Iraq of "oppression, tyranny and extremism."

Rapavi, with the 2nd Battalion, 8th Marine Regiment, was the kind of infantry that Marine officers want desperately to retain. But he was adamant that he wanted to leave at the end of his enlistment and attend college, maybe to become a doctor. His father is a dentist. Even as his enlistment dwindled to a few weeks, Rapavi refused to become a "short-timer" by offloading dangerous assignments.

He had a rare knack for earning the respect of his subordinates and his superiors. As a squad leader, he barked at Marines with authority. But he also stood up for his men in the face of unrelenting demands from officers.

"He never took his pack off," said Gunnery Sergeant Darrell Rowe, using Marine jargon to describe a hard worker.

Rapavi led from the front, Marine style. He took his men through the sniper alley to the police station. He could have given the job to someone else. Once inside the wall, a sniper shot felled him.

I'll also remember Corporal Ryan Kozera, 22, of California's Central Valley, who was on his fourth deployment to Iraq and is prepared to make a fifth if called. And Lieutenant Colonel Scott Shuster, a battalion commander on the Syrian border, who told me, "I will never forget the faces of my dead."

And Corporal Ryan Cavey, 22, of Baltimore, who immediately extended his tour of duty so he could take Rapavi's place as squad leader and ease the pain felt by other squad members after Rapavi's death. "I'm just not into leaving my guys-not when they're hurting like that," said Cavey. "We fight for each other here."

I'm home now, enjoying the delights of San Diego, looking forward to Padres games and Old Globe productions. But in Iraq, Marines from Camp Pendleton and other bases are still on duty, adjusting to an enemy that is relentless, adaptive and given to hiding behind women and children.

One day, Rowe briefed other sergeants on the insurgents' latest tactics: less use of suicide vehicles, but more snipers and more putting bombs inside dead animals. Rowe told the sergeants to watch for any signs that Marines are easing up.

"We're still pushing like it's day one," he said.

I'll remember that, too.

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Tony Perry is the San Diego bureau chief for the Los Angeles Times.

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