Anya Klibor wrote:

As some people know, my friend Jennifer is in the States for the summer from Australia. She's a professional cosplayer who helps promote Star Wars The Old Republic, among other things, at conventions, and she's supposed to be at Boston Comicon this coming weekend. She's up for a week, and HM3 Torrino and I decided to stop being lazy and take her out to see the town. And of course, because yesterday was the Marathon, we figured we'd take her up to Boylston Street and Copley. It also gave us a reason to be social. Her father had run in the Marathon a few times before but she'd never seen it. There's some nice shops up that way, and it'sclose to public transportation.

We were a block away when the first explosion happened. It was omnidirectional, and we couldn't tell where it came from. Doc was sure it was a manhole cover. He'd lived in New York City most of his life and heard them happen. The second explosion hit, and we looked at each other.

"No...no no no," I said as I started running.

"Here we go," he said as he ran to catch up with me.

I'm a Marine. I act like it many times, and people think I'm trying to be a badass. But there's that mentality you will have, always, when you're true to what you are. You will always run headfirst into danger. Sane people run from explosions and gunfire--Marines and soldiers, airmen and sailors run towards it. It's our job. We are indoctrinated since Day 1 to do this, because we want to be there, in the midst of chaos, to protect people. This was no different.

Officers were running everywhere, guns drawn. The first thing I noticed was the blood. The second was the people hurt, and the bodyparts on the ground. There are no words to describe this kind of carnage the first time you see it. But HM3 and I were there. Both he and I vaulted one of the metal barricades while police were trying to get it down. We were there, triaging people almost immediately. Two National Guardsmen were behind us. I'm not a doctor, nor a corpsman. I know the basic stuff. The one thing I knew how to make was a tourniquet. It's not easy to do it right, but it saves lives.

I didn't see anyone who died. I'm happy for this. But there was one person I helped. The father was holding his leg, a stump where his leg had been blown off. The limb was ten feet away, standing upright. It sickened me. As I ran to him, I saw his son, not more ten eight years old holding his father's arm, crying. Balling his eyes out. I was next to him, trying to comfort the boy while the father screamed in agony. I used my belt to make t-shirt to make the man a tourniquet. A cop was on us immediately. He grabbed the kid, carrying him while I threw the father over my shoulders, fireman-carrying him to paramedics.

That vision of the child crying while his father is in agony will be with me for the rest of my life. As I write this, I'm crying just remembering it.

I want to say that it was a moment to be proud of myself for stepping up to the challenge. Maybe at a later point pride will take me over. But right now, I can't feel that. I feel nothing but anger and hatred for the people who did this. More than anything, I want to find these sons of bitches, and kill them. I want them dead. I want to cry as I think about that child and his father.

This is the first time I have been in the midst of chaos like this. I never want to see it again. But that doesn't mean I won't.

People are complaining about a lack of security at the Marathon. They are saying there is a severe lack of intelligence. Governor Patrick asked a simple question, "How did we miss this?" No one had an answer until I spoke up.

"Sir, we have to be right 100% of the time to prevent this. They only need to be right once to win."

A somber thought. But I am proud of the first responders I worked with. They were professional. They knew what to do. With those officers and paramedics, those members of the National Guard present, lives were saved. Had they been slacking, more could have been lost.

Don't ******* give them ****. They did their jobs spectacularly. Two explosions and they ran in. I ran in. We didn't know if there was a third, or a fourth. We put people before us, something that most people will not do. We put our lives on the line, because at the end of the day, my brothers in blue, white and red knew what to do. We all did. I am proud to stand beside people like that.

I'm at HM3's house right now, cooling down. Jennifer has been terrified all day because we left her. She hugged me and wouldn't let go last night, thinking I was going to die. And then she slapped me for making her worried and cry in public.

Aussie women. I'll never understand'em.

Semper fidelis has a new meaning.

Amy Langfield and Bill Briggs wrote:

Others were reluctant to step into the spotlight. One is simply being referred to as “the man who gave the shirt off his back.”

An active-duty service member, he was at the finish line as the bombs exploded Monday. He was photographed wrapping the red shirt he wore during the Boston Marathon around the bloody leg of a man at the blast site. He does not want to be recognized. He wants only prayers for the victims.

“That’s him: ‘This is not about me. Focus on what’s important.’ That’s just who he is,” said Larry Olson, spokesman for Team Red, White & Blue, a veterans advocacy group who had 17 participants in the marathon, including the man who offered his shirt to stop the man’s bleeding.