Infantry: Army National Guard's 1st Battalion, 111th Infantry Regiment (Mechanized)
Died: Aug. 9, 2005 in Beiji, Iraq, age 24

Born and raised on the tough streets of Kensington, Frankie J. Straub Jr. signed up for the Army National Guard in 1998, during his junior year at Jules Mastbaum Vocational-Technical High School.

"My brother joined the military for his future," says younger sibling Sean. "He always wanted to feel safe and to make others, especially kids, feel safe."

Frankie planned his life with a precision befitting a man of uniform: First, he would earn an advanced degree in criminal law from Temple University; then, after marrying and having children, he hoped to simultaneously start a career as a police officer and enlist in the Coast Guard -- "hopefully in Florida, where it's warmer," recalls Sean.

But last fall, Frankie's National Guard unit was deployed to Iraq, where they were stationed in the tumultuous city of Beiji, where fellow Philadelphian Nicholas "Z" Zangara lost his life [News, Was It Worth It?, Christopher Schwartz, Oct. 13, 2005].

Frankie once described the assignment as "hell without the fire," say friends who recount an incident that deeply disturbed him. While his unit was manning a checkpoint, a large van with tinted windows barreled toward them. Fearing it was loaded with explosives, Frankie trained his rifle on the vehicle, strafed the engine and killed the driver. The soldiers then found explosives, and 12 children, in the van.

Friends say an angry Straub said that if the U.S. wants to unify Iraq, it will have to start with the children because their parents are brainwashed with hatred.

He'd never get a chance to test his theory. According to the Department of Defense, Frankie's unit was investigating an incident involving a rocket-propelled grenade when their convoy fell into a hastily dug culvert and were ambushed by insurgents with small firearms.

Since Frankie's death, the Straub family has protected their privacy and avoided media interviews. However, Sean had a few words to say before rejoining his family's silent mourning.

"I wanted to help him. He would have helped me. I wanted to, but I couldn't," Sean says. "It seems all we know here in Kensington is death. Me alone, I've been to over 60 funerals. But now I'm no longer afraid of death. Wherever my brother is, I'm not afraid to go there."