Well, about 500 yards, to be exact.

        Mr. Pacheco, Ryle High School Class of 2000, has just finished Marine boot camp, first in fitness in his platoon, fourth in his company of recruits. Sharpshooter.

        That means he can hit a paper plate at 500 yards. Five football fields.

        And on that target at the Parris Island shooting range was the face of John Walker Lindh — aka Johnny Taliban.

        “He's been our target practice,” Mr. Pacheco said.

        Both young men are 20. Both were raised by “free-spirited” parents, Mr. Pacheco said. But Johnny Taliban's infamous face is grimy and bearded; Mr. Pacheco has the scrubbed-clean look of a recruiting poster Marine. The whites of his eyes have the porcelain look of a race-tuned athlete. When he walks into a restaurant, heads turn, admiring his uniform with creases sharp enough to slice bread, and shoes like polished marble.

Pacheco

        Johnny Taliban's parents didn't care what he did. Mr. Pacheco's parents, former missionaries, taught him he could sail over any horizon — but they gave him the anchors of rock-solid Christian faith and family to keep him from drifting into trouble.

        “The youth of today is mislabeled as far as having no direction,” he told me over lunch, sprinkling his conversation with “yes sirs” and “no sirs.”

        “But I had no direction.”

        He was tired of the student life at Northern Kentucky University, so one day he went into the Marine Corps recruiting office and asked, “What do I have to do to become a Marine?”

        That day was Sept. 10.

        The next morning his father shook him awake, saying, “America is under attack!”

        “I thought he was just playing with me because he couldn't believe I would actually join the Marines.”

        He got up in time to see the second tower collapse, and has felt an “angry resolve” ever since.

        He's not alone. A fourth of his recruit class said they joined because of Sept. 11.

        As Mr. Pacheco struggled through grueling push-ups and forced marches lugging a 50-pound pack and 40 pounds of ammunition, he drew inspiration from two pictures: one of his family, and another of the World Trade Center.

        He lost 34 pounds, but gained thankfulness for family, nation, honor, pride.

        And if he is sent to Iraq, he's ready. “We're gearing up for that,” he said, home on his first leave. “I'm excited about it. The drill instructors used to say, "Don't worry, you probably won't go into combat.' They don't say that anymore.”

        Johnny Taliban's lawyers say the misunderstood, troubled boy was brainwashed by terrorists.

        “He should be judged by what he did, not the trouble he had as a kid,” says Mr. Pacheco.

        “Twenty-year-olds in the military lead a group of four men into battle. They might not be trusted to run a copy machine in the civilian world. But in the Marines, they are trusted with people's lives.”

        Students who protest the war “don't know the freedom they have,” he said. “I will fight for them even if they don't want me to.”

        PFC Pacheco is the sword point of our liberty.

        A hundred Johnny Talibans are not worth the spit shine on a Marine's shoes.

        Contact Peter Bronson at 768-8301; fax: 768-8610; e-mail: pbronson@enquirer.com. Cincinnati.Com keyword: Bronson.
       

Demands make boycott complex
Mixing neighbors, remaking communities
City West experiment tests idea of mixing incomes in neighborhood
Cow chase wields darts and decoys
Pilot's relatives hopeful
Conference coming
Displays give students peek into past
Enquirer photographer wins Best Of Show award
GOP speaker touts House record
Race lawsuit parties meeting
Theater gets break
Tristate A.M. Report
Women gather to grow in faith
BRONSON: Semper Fi
HOWARD: Some Good News
PULFER: Docs fed up
SMITH AMOS: Third Frontier
Where does buffalo roam? Monroe
Area went from 'Highland' to Heights
House passes bill limiting document access
Newport's Italianfest wins tourism society award
Redevelopment plan challenged