CALL TO DUTY

"I'm not sure I'm willing to give up my son," she says.

This surprises Blake. He listens to her talk one evening. They are at a Mexican restaurant after baseball practice, and he is wolfing down quesadillas and guzzling sweet tea as his mother explains her reversal. She makes a case for another option besides the Marines. They could trade in his gas-guzzling truck and buy a smaller car so he could commute to classes at Meridian Community College, and he could work part time.

Unsettled by her own feelings, she calls a friend later that night to talk. She finds out the woman's son has signed with the National Guard. "I feel guilty, not wanting Blake to serve," she says. ""I want freedom, but I'm not willing to do anything for it. I'm sorry if that's two-faced."

A few days later, she is in her living room folding laundry. A light rain falls on the roof. Her son is getting his baseball uniform ready. "Mama, did you dry my pants?" he shouts.

"He's a good kid," Diane says, of her middle son, the high achiever who somehow transcends his overheated trailer with a cologne called Fierce and button-down shirts that suggest he is a legacy from Ole Miss, and not these hills that are covered in green and loss.

"Two houses down from where we live there's Glenn Pugh," Diane says. "His son got the Silver Star on Saturday. Another mile down the road is a young man who died in Iraq, Chris Mabry. I used to give him a ride home from football practice. I don't want a flag. I don't want a star. I want my child."

She is cautious making such a declaration in public. One afternoon she's at a family gathering at her sister's place. Her son is out in the yard tossing a football. Some of the other boys are buttoning on camouflage to hunt turkey. Several of the women are in the kitchen talking. Johnson expresses relief that Blake is leaning toward community college instead of joining the Marines while the country is at war.

One mother says how good she'd feel if her son enlisted.

"Wouldn't you be upset?" Johnson asks.

"I would be upset," says Wendy Stephens. "But I would just be so proud. Bo has such a big love for America."

Johnson is quiet. What she wants to say is, "Bo is only 10 years old. Your attitude might change when he gets a little closer to joining time." But she says nothing.

One Family's Loss

A Marine sent to the front line

Sweet gums and pine trees lead the way to the Mabry place. Everyone knows it by the Marine Corps flag flying in front. Inside the mobile home is Frances Mabry and the china cabinet she carefully pulls open.