The Singing Marines
by Lisa Fabrizio

They stand there at attention; impossibly young, and handsome in a way that only a man who proudly wears the uniform of his country can be. Two Marines, on the eve of the battle for Fallujah, mere days away from a fierce struggle and house-to-house fighting, captured for posterity on videotape. And what do these leathernecks do in those moments leading up to their hour of peril? They sing.

In a remarkable video that I first caught at Blackfive.net, these intrepid warriors give the two most inspired renditions of our National Anthem you'll ever have the good fortune to hear. But it is heartbreaking on two counts; first in the way that your heart bursts with pride and gratitude that men of such distinction are willing to defend us, and second, that they might have been killed or wounded in that defense.

First up is Corporal Mark Sixbey, of Metlakatla, AK. Filmed from the waist up in front of an American flag duct-taped to a wall, he sings the Anthem unaccompanied in a loud, clear voice; his stance firm, his dark eyes resolute and focused on something we cannot see. His every note is sung in a determined yet passionate fashion, as if he were drawing strength from the very singing of it.

No less impressive is the rendition of Sergeant Robert Jones Jr. of Oceanside, CA who follows from the same location. Sporting a thin mustache, probably grown in an effort to make his appearance match his rank, he delivers a slower, more emotive version; his tenor voice embracing every note, using tremolo as if to add meaning to each word. Like his comrade, he ends his performance the way he began; at attention and with a look that says he is ready for whatever happens.

Neatly dressed in their fatigues, these two Marines--one from a red state, the other a blue-- represent us all in the same way: Duty, honor, country. Watching them, one wonders about their intentions: Do they sing for inspiration, to leave a remembrance, or to simply state, in their own way, what they are fighting for?

Far from domestic political clashes, these brave soldiers and Marines are laying their lives on the line every day and night; fighting bloodthirsty, inhuman savages who pray every day and night that they might one day ply their particular handiwork on the citizens of the United States.

I do not know the fate of Corporal Sixbey or Sergeant Jones, but I do know that I will never forget either of them. Credit for this goes to DVIDS (The Digital Video and Imagery Distribution System), who received the video from the 1st Marine Expeditionary Force. DVIDS is a digital clearinghouse for images and videos. It is funded by the Army but serves all military branches in the Iraq and Afghanistan theaters.

A visit to their website is a virtual treasure trove for anyone seeking information on our operations in Iraq and Afghanistan. You'll smile, weep and outright cheer as you peruse the mountain of videos, images and articles there. You'll view the costs of war, but get quite a different perspective than if you watch it on your nightly network newscast.

Like the sight of two Marines; strong enough to battle a vicious, lawless enemy, yet capable of an exquisite show of love of flag and country through an act as simple as a song. A love and a song that has sustained this nation and its military for two hundred years. May they sustain Corporal Sixbey, Sergeant Jones and their comrades still.

The appalling part of this story is that DVIDS exists mainly to supply the mainstream media with access to information at ground level from the theaters of war. You've no doubt seen the video of the shooting of an injured Iraqi 'soldier' too many times on the tube already. Ditto, the Abu Ghraib prison photos. Have you seen the singing Marines?

Note: Since the writing of this article, the good folks at DVIDS have solved at least a part of the mystery of the singing Marines: "The 'Sing the National Anthem' video was shot in-theatre specifically for openings to various sporting events across the nation."

The U.S. Marines: The gift that keeps on giving.

Lisa Fabrizio is a columnist who hails from Connecticut.

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