CALL TO DUTY

No one gathered in his living room mentions Iraq, but privately Ramos says that getting deployed there is no more perilous than normal, everyday life. "There was a young man at the mall here -- he got injured and killed on a hatrack," he says, of a recent freak accident at a hat store. "There is danger in anything you do. War is all around us. We will not send a Marine into harm's way unless they are properly trained."

The recruits -- all white except for a Native American -- gather in Ramos's back yard. Several parents have tagged along. They stand at the side, watching their sons compete in the grass with ropes and obstacles. The boys pant and sweat as the recruiters shout encouragement. One drill is called dizzy-izzy. Recruits race to a baseball bat lying 20 yards away. They stand it upright, place their foreheads down on the butt of the bat and spin 15 rotations. Then they are supposed to sprint back to the finish line, but most are so disoriented they stumble in slow motion toward a stand of pine trees or the side of the house.

One of the fathers watching is John Rue. His son is slender and pale, with scruffy chin hair and shiny blue warm-up pants. "Come on, boy, pick it up, let's go!" he yells, clapping his hands.

Rue's own dream of joining the Marines was thwarted by his mother when he was 18, and now his son is fulfilling the dream. Rue says he has tried to teach his son America's true purpose in Iraq. "We need to show honor and commitment," he says, wearing a Marine Corps T-shirt. "You always love these people. You are not ever there to destroy them. We are trying to make a point: There's a better way." Rue's son wants to be a mechanic in the Marines, but Rue has tried to explain the wider possibilities. "You are gonna have to do some killing on your own," he told his son.

After the sit-up contest, the recruits finish with their drills. They pile barbecue, rice and watermelon on paper plates, and eagerly talk about boot camp.

"I ship July 2nd," one says. "When do you ship?"

"The 10th of July."

Absent from the group is Blake Johnson, an absence that pains one of the recruiters.

"Now, that's a Marine," says Staff Sgt. Jay Wyatt, describing the first time he met Johnson. "Just how he walked into the office. He has the basic leadership qualities we are looking for. He's a quarterback, pitcher and third baseman. These are leadership positions. He is a very determined individual. His scores would qualify him for any job he wants."

Wyatt watches the other recruits chow. "It gets me personally," he says. "There's really not a whole lot of prosperous opportunities around here. We do offer opportunities."

A Mother's Struggle

Pondering other options

There is no other option in Johnson's life that offers such a full package. All he has to do is sign the papers and the next five years are paved with a job, housing, education, medical care, paid vacations, physical supremacy and honor.

His mother supports the war and has voted for George W. Bush twice. "Terrorism is scary," Diane Johnson says. "We need to protect what we have." But now that her son is almost 18 and the president is calling for more sacrifice, she's having second thoughts.