"Late in the afternoon of March 24, 2003, I was digging a hole by a bridge over the Euphrates River in Iraq. I was a reporter embedded with a platoon of Marines in the elite 1st Reconnaissance Battalion. We had been under rocket and machine-gun fire for several hours. The bridge was a key crossing point for the American invasion and was hotly contested by several thousand Iraqi paramilitaries firing on our position from three sides. More than a dozen Americans had already paid for this bridge crossing with their lives. The Recon Marines I accompanied- the Special Forces of the Corps- had been ordered to hold a position beside the bridge and wait. An armored assault across the Euphrates was due any time now, and the Recon Marines were standing by to rescue the crews of any armored vehicles disabled by enemy fire. In classic military tradition, the assault had been repeatedly delayed. Now, as night approached, the Recon Marines were ordered to dig in. Machine-gun fire raked the palm trees overhead. To avoid the bullets I excavated my hole from a kneeling position. Weighted down with forty pounds of body armor and gear, I felt myself wheeze each time I pitched by shovel into the earth and scratched out more clay. I was midway through this exhausting task when I felt a steely hand grip my arm, then heard a voice: "That's it, brother. Work those biceps." Sergeant Rudy Reyes stood over me, offering an encouraging smile. It seemed Rudy had chosen this moment to continue the fitness instruction program he had begun- without my ever asking- when we had met a couple of weeks earlier, prior to the invasion. Eyeing the progress of my excavation on this combat-filled afternoon, Rudy pounded my back and added, "You see, brother. Just a little bit of fitness every day is all you need." Pausing to allow an enemy mortar to explode in the field to our rear, Rudy concluded, "Keep this up, you'll be in shape in no time.""