(...) The young marine lit a cigarette and let it dangle. White smoke wafted around his helmet. His face was smeared with war paint. Blood trickled from his right ear and the bridge of his nose. Momentarily deafened by cannon blasts, he didn't know the shooting had stopped. He stared at the sunrise. His expression caught my eye. To me, it said terrified, exhausted and glad just to be alive. I recognised that look because that's how I felt too. I raised my camera and snapped a few shots. (...)we read it again and again - these stories of boys in wars. they follow the journalists and the journalists follow them. they are part of the war and war is in them, forever. this time its the so called marlboro-man. read his story in the observer (via 3quarksdaily)
