Sandstorms settled in the south of that sour place, and terror-men opened wide a mouth etched in a hate-filled face. The rifle-spit struck down Malone and he in a moment gave a life well-lived, alone, to set men free of the grave. In later days men drew down statues from on high; they struck Iraqi ground so dust and cheer could fly. What, one Irish fighting man to free millions from cold chains? Not noble words, not gracious plan could make real such gains. Or--Is our time so coy, so wild and free a thing? Not Harvey nor Kelly, boy of Killarn, not the Brian King Freedom bought at such a cost, where glory's priced so steep: Where the name of each good man lost Can memory's Herald keep. -Poem by Grim, April 10th, 2003, in honor of Ian Malone This is an annual Someone You Should Know (St. Patrick's Day Edition) post to celebrate an Irish soldier's sacrifice. Below is the story of Ian Malone - a young Irishman who bridged the divide between Ireland and England in life and death. Ian died during the invasion of Iraq in April of 2003 doing what he wanted to do - Soldiering for his country. Below is his story, told expertly by Philip Watson of the Telegraph: Ian's death brought people together By Philip Watson Lance Corporal Ian Malone died in an ambush on the streets of Basra in April last year. Throughout a long, hot Sunday, he and his armoured brigade had been pushing through the southern suburbs of Iraq's second city, flushing out enemy soldiers. While most of the regular Iraqi Army had fled, the streets and houses contained pockets of determined Fedayeen fighters, paramilitaries who remained loyal to Saddam Hussein. Having reached the edge of the old city and achieved their objective of securing a university campus, Ian Malone and his colleagues had left their Warrior armoured personnel carrier, and were regrouping. They had scoured the area and, in the dusty shade of dusk, all seemed safe. In an instant, however, two Fedayeen in civilian clothes broke cover and sprayed the crew with automatic fire. Four soldiers were hit. Ian Malone took two bullets - one through the neck, the other in the head - and died instantly, becoming one of 55 British soldiers killed in Iraq in the past year. What made the 28-year-old Lance Corporal remarkable, though, apart from the peerless qualities that all who knew him instantly recognised - he was a thinker and philosopher; courteous and religious; a talented chess player and musician; an exceptional soldier; and, as his school chaplain said at his funeral, not macho but manly - was that Ian Malone was an Irishman fighting for the British Army. Many have found in Ian Malone's life and death something profoundly symbolic: the notion that he represents the continuing spirit of progress and reconciliation between Britain and Ireland... ...Ian Malone grew up in a western suburb of Dublin not known for its pro-British allegiances: Ballyfermot is working-class, staunchly Catholic and partly republican. Known locally as the Wild West, it is an area of low-rise housing estates, high unemployment, and occasional pro-IRA graffiti - though most slogans are hastily painted over. It is the sort of marginalised city area in which expectations can be low and opportunities limited. Ballyfermot has always, however, been an area of strong family ties, resilient community spirit, good schools and committed teachers - and from an early age, Ian, the eldest of five children, did well. He began to play chess at the age of six, later joining the local chess club. In the Army, he would often beat his commanding officers, until he was told, only half-jokingly, not to do it too often because it was bad for morale. At the local Christian Brothers secondary school, he shone academically, yet his more stubborn, non-conformist nature also began to surface. For one mock exam for his Leaving Certificate, the equivalent of A-Levels, he was given zero for writing one-sentence answers, later claiming it was all a waste of time, as the teacher knew that he knew more than that. Shortly afterwards, he refused to sit his final exams, insisting that he would take them a year later, which he did, with some success. For the next three years, however, he had an assortment of manual jobs. He was mostly restless and unsettled. His waywardness was reined in by compensatory disciplines. In his teens, he briefly took up boxing, but found greater fulfilment in the controlled power of martial arts, becoming local under-16s karate champion. Although Ian Malone was tall and skinny for his age, he also had great strength and stamina. His dedication was primarily reserved, though, for the FCA, the Irish version of the Territorial Army. Having joined when he was 15, he spent one night a week and every Sunday morning training at a barracks four miles away. He also went on three-week summer camps. This experience inspired him to pursue a career in the Irish Defence Forces. His maternal grandfather had served in the Irish Army and it seemed a logical progression from the Reserves. He was to be disappointed: in the mid-1990s, Ireland's defence forces were only recruiting school-leavers up to the age of 18. Ian was 21. Undeterred, he researched careers in the French Foreign Legion and the British Army and discussed opportunities with his former school chaplain, Father David Lumsden. "I remember that we'd both seen the Laurel and Hardy films, in which they go off and join the French Foreign Legion, so we instantly rejected that option," says Fr Lumsden. "We knew how tough it would be." In 1997, Ian Malone applied to the Irish Guards, a regiment with a long and proud history within the British Army. Formed in 1900 by order of Queen Victoria to mark the conspicuous bravery of the Irish soldiers who fought in the Boer War, the Micks, as the Guards are universally known, played an...
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