Fifteen yeas ago Jeff Cooper wrote, "See, now, over the portals of our academies are engraved the words: ‘Duty. Honor. Country.’ How man y people under the age of forty can you name who can even define those words? As generation follows generation this situation degenerates. If Daddy has no idea what honor means, how can he explain it to Junior, even if circumstances lend themselves to it – which, in most cases, they no longer do."

I admit that at times I’m discouraged by the moral cesspool our culture has become. Without even trying, I’ve memorized the quote above. But Cooper ends his piece with these hopeful words: "But the latent nobility of the human soul has not vanished. It is simply buried. Let us unearth it."

At our last local match (a classifier), a young man in his twenties showed up. He’d never shot IDPA before, and came too late to take the New Shooters Class. As the Instructor for this class, I was concerned about this man shooting for safety reasons.

He had a brand new SIG 220, and had brought only two magazines. In my conversation with him, I got the impression that he was more familiar with long guns. I debated with myself whether I should strongly suggest to the MD that he just watch that day. But the young man was not cocky or arrogant – in fact was quite polite and respectful – so I held off.

As we watched the match, I said to him "If you shoot today, don’t try to be fast. Strive for safety first, then accuracy – speed will eventually come. A good match is one in which you have a good time and go home with all your body parts."

"Oh!" he said to me with a good-natured smirk. "Then I’m already having a bad time!" With that he yanked up the trouser of his right leg to expose the prosthesis that was there. "What happened to your leg?" I asked him. "IED in Iraq" he said. "Who were you there with?" I don’t remember the specifics, just that he was a Recon Marine. Thoughts of my objecting to his shooting that day evaporated.

It didn’t go smoothly. He was obviously more familiar with an M4 that with his 220. His peculiar grip on the gun, coupled with the revelation that it had not been lubricated since he got it, caused it to jam (not malfunction – jam) two or three times. The low capacity and the fact that he brought only two magazines meant a lot of time spent loading. But had it taken him into the twilight to finish, I wouldn’t have objected.

This young man did not once whine or complain - not about loosing his leg, not about being a combat veteran having to be instructed by a bunch of middle-aged desk jockeys, not about his performance or the performance of his equipment. In Iraq, in the match, and, it seemed, in all of life, he "improvised, adapted, and overcame." His good attitude had a contagious quality.

Regardless of what you may think of the operation in Iraq, there are some magnificent young men coming out of it, no matter what=2 0they may have gone into it as.

The latent nobility of the human soul has not vanished in our country, but it surely has been buried. Desperate times and situations do not create men. They simply show them up for who they truly are. "‘Duty. Honor. Country.’ How many people under the age of forty can you name who can even define those words?" Well, I can name at least one.