AH-64 gun cameras capture a grueling air rescue:

The Crew Chief operates the hoist, as he pulls a casualty into the aircraft. This is a one person operation that is difficult to perform when the casualty is in a SKED, especially when the casualty has the added weight of body armor and equipment. The Medic rides the hoist to the ground and back up, time and time again.

Imagine performing this operation 20-25 continuous times wearing Night Vision Goggles (NVGs), the Crew Chief continuing to advise the pilots of aircraft drift and rotor clearance as the mountain side is dangerously close. He ensures the hoist is ready for the next lift and watches the Medics hand and arm signals as he also directs the positioning of the aircraft. It becomes apparent this task is physically exhausting and difficult to master in routine conditions, let alone this punishing-unforgiving terrain at night.

The cabin of the aircraft becomes crowded, and the difficulty the Crew Chief and the Medic have maneuvering recovered personnel inside becomes increasingly challenging.

Dust-off has a crew of 4: Pilot, Copilot, Crew Chief, and Medic. During one of the earlier MEDEVAC missions the previous night, Dust-off, with its normal crew of 4, extracted 8 casualties, and 1 non-injured soldier in a single lift for a total of 13 on board. That operation was conducted under zero-lunar-illumination NVG conditions with no supplemental lighting used in the rear of the aircraft due to the tactical situation, adding dramatically to the level of difficulty.

Dust-off departed the pick-up (PZ) zone after 31 combined hours of medical evacuation, and without further incident.

The six men who were killed:

1st Lt. Matthew C. Ferrara, 24, of Torrance, Calif.
Sgt. Jeffery S. Mersman, 23, of Parker, Kan
Spc. Sean K.A. Langevin, 23, of Walnut Creek, Calif.
Spc. Lester G. Roque, 23, of Torrance, Calif.
Pfc. Joseph M. Lancour, 21, of Swartz Creek, Mich.
Marine Sgt. Phillip A. Bocks, 28, of Troy, Mich.

And back home a young man learns his best friend will not be coming home:

At a Pentagon ceremony this month, 1st Lt. Walter Bryan Jackson became one of a handful of soldiers since 2001 to receive the Distinguished Service Cross, the military's second-highest medal, for saving another soldier's life while himself wounded and under heavy fire in Iraq.

Jackson's award was overshadowed a week later, though, when he learned that his closest friend and West Point roommate, 1st Lt. Matthew C. Ferrara, had been killed in a mountain ambush in Afghanistan. Last weekend, Jackson was on stage in Los Angeles for his friend's eulogy. And on Friday, after a quiet Thanksgiving with his parents in Fairfax, Jackson packed his bag for another yearlong deployment, this time to lead a rocket platoon along South Korea's demilitarized zone.

"It's kind of hard to explain" how it feels to be part of a small segment of the U.S. population that is "bearing the brunt of the responsibilities" from today's conflicts, Jackson said as he waited for his flight at Dulles International Airport. "It doesn't affect society at large in the slightest. Life just goes on, and a lot of people . . . are more concerned about the price of gas than about soldiers fighting and dying," said Jackson, who has lost several comrades in the wars.

As young as he is, Lieutenant Jackson has already seen more than his share of action:

"We are a lot more serious," said the fresh-faced artillery officer, who turns 25 today, "because we know how short life is."

Within a few months of his graduation [from West Point], Jackson, the son of a naval officer, was sent to Iraq as an artillery officer for the 1st Battalion, 36th Infantry Regiment. Based in the town of Hit in Iraq's western Anbar province, Jackson and his company commander were checking on Iraqis detained after a mortar attack when their Humvee almost rolled over, getting stuck in a ditch.

Standing guard with three other soldiers in an exposed area, Jackson spotted a few Iraqi men drive slowly by on scooters, apparently surveying the soldiers' location. A minute later, machine-gun fire tore into the soldiers from two directions, bringing down Jackson's commander, Capt. Eric Stainbrook, and 1st Sgt. David Sapp.

"A round hit me in the leg and kicked my leg out real hard," recalled Sapp, of Metter, Ga. "I fell over, and I felt another round hit my head, and my eyesight went out. Everything was black."

Lying on the ground, Sapp recalled, he began praying he wouldn't get shot again. "I was completely helpless, and I wanted to see my wife and daughters again."

Help came in the form of Jackson, who rushed to give Sapp first aid. But within seconds Jackson, too, was shot, in the left leg and hand. Slumped down, he nevertheless managed to return fire with his M-16 rifle.

Jackson tried to reload, but found the blood loss had left him too weak. "I didn't have the strength to pull the loading chamber back," he recalled. But he managed to stand up and help other soldiers carry Sapp to a Bradley Fighting Vehicle 30 feet away. "I knew how dire the situation was," he said. "If I didn't help out, someone else might get killed or wounded."

Sapp, whose arm and leg bones were shattered by bullets, was screaming in pain, both men recalled. In the Bradley, Jackson grasped Sapp's hand to comfort him, refusing medical aid for himself until they reached their base and he could no longer stand.

Sapp's wounds were life-threatening, and he was at risk of losing his limbs, doctors told him later.

"I don't think I would have lived" without the help of Jackson and another soldier, Sapp said in an interview this week as he underwent physical therapy at Walter Reed Army Medical Center. "I'm forever grateful to both of those guys," said Sapp, who is now legally blind in one eye but hopes to remain in the Army unless he is medically discharged.

Jackson was also evacuated to Walter Reed, where he has undergone more than a dozen surgeries, the latest four months ago. Still, he has gradually made almost a full recovery, and considers himself lucky.

So he was devastated to learn last week that such fortune had eluded his roommate, Ferrara.

Ferrara, 24, of the 173rd Airborne Brigade, was returning from a meeting with tribal leaders in a remote border region in eastern Afghanistan when his foot patrol of about 30 soldiers was ambushed along a narrow mountain path, Jackson said. Insurgents fired AK-47 assault rifles on the patrol from different directions, killing six American and three Afghan soldiers, and wounding 19, the most U.S. casualties of any single incident this year. Without room to maneuver, Ferrara, a nephew of New Zealand Defense Minister Phil Goff, and the rest were trapped.

"Matt was killed instantly," Jackson said of his roommate, who was posthumously awarded the Bronze Star and promoted to captain. "The reason they didn't take more killed in action was a lot of the casualties rolled down the hill."

Jackson said he plans to stay on active duty, at least until his obligation ends in 2 1/2 years. "I feel I kind of owe it to the people who have already sacrificed," he said. Still, he said he wishes more Americans would appreciate how soldiers continue to volunteer and put their lives at risk. "We don't ask for very much," he said.

Sometimes when I see the lunacy in Berkeley, or that fool of a mayor in Toledo playing at being a human being, I wonder why anyone would step forward to defend this nation? But then I read stories like this one:

I am a Marine Corps dad who picked up my son from the U.S. Marine Corps Recruit Training Depot at Parris Island on Jan. 25. I had no idea what was in store for him when he came home to Columbus.

Upon our return, we have witnessed a gratitude from the people of Columbus that we did not expect. Last Sunday, my son, Pvt. Tyler Allen Leavitt, put on his dress-blue uniform for church to visit those who have prayed for him during the tough training that Marines must endure for the honor of being called a United States Marine.

During this "victory tour," Tyler has witnessed a grateful nation through the awesome, intimate hand of fellowship from the people of Columbus.

Read how the good people of Columbus, Ohio honored the service of a newly minted young Marine. It's a day brightener.

They get it. They really get it. This nation will never fail so long as we have people like the citizens of Columbus, Ohio and like Linda Ferrara, mother to four soldiers serving this country in the United States Army.

And First Lieutenant Matthew C. Ferrara. Killed November 9th, in Nurastan Province, Afghanistan. May light perpetual shine upon him.

Some people don't think that we have to fight just yet,
that we can wait and the crazies will go away
and not harm our little tribe.

They are already harming our little tribe.
All of humanity is our tribe.

- Linda Ferrara
Mother of 1LT Matthew C. Ferrara