On Sept. 19, a contingent of Marines and infantrymen left their base for the dark streets of turbulent Ramadi. Among them was Sgt. Michael Egan, a Philadelphia Guardsman with deep South Jersey roots, who volunteered for the mission. The earnestness was fitting, considering he once told his family, "I love my job."

As Egan drove a Hummer, it passed over a remote-controlled improvised explosive device, which detonated, killing him and three comrades. Military intelligence linked the attack to Abu Musab al-Zarqawi, terrorist scourge of Iraq.

"They went back out after just finishing a mission, for another 14 hours," explains his wife, Maria, "which leads me to believe they had not rested for at least 24 hours."

Egan attended Camden Catholic High School in Cherry Hill and later Pennsauken High. Aimless after his 1987 graduation, he worked at the Pennsauken Mart before joining the Marines in 1991. (His father William had served as a Marine during Vietnam era, as did his uncle Jimmy, who remains MIA.) He specialized in piloting amphibious tracks (AmTracs), immense metal rhomboids on wheels that trudge through sand and mud.

Quiet since he was little, he was tight-lipped regarding his assignments, though he did once let slip that he often performed guard duty (including a Huey Lewis and the News concert). After eight years, including a stint in Bosnia, Egan returned to civilian life in 1999 and met Maria, with whom he had a daughter, Samantha.

"We had so many plans, especially to grow old together," Maria says. "He was one of the most honest, trusting and caring people I had ever encountered in my life."

In need of more cash and tired of civilian life, Egan re-enlisted in 2003, this time with the "Bloody Buckets," the 28th Infantry Division of the Pennsylvania National Guard. The family bought a house in Delaware, but this July, he received orders for Iraq, where his unit performed intelligence and security operations.

Egan never talked about the war but his brother Pat remembers him having a vague "bad feeling." Then, shortly before his death, Michael phoned his mother.

"He said 'I love you,'" she recalls. "Those were the last words he ever said to me."

"I pray others won't suffer this emptiness and heartache I feel. I know my prayers will not be answered as long as this war exists and our president does not know the agony we suffer," says Maria. "These men and women of our military are sacrificing not only their lives for our safety but their sanity as well. People have no idea what these guys and their families are going through."