National Review online has two articles today that merit attention. One is on Fabrizio Quattrocchi, the hostage who showed terrorists “how an Italian dies” and therefore spoiled their al Jazeera viewing party. The writer, James Robbins, explains that Quattrocchi understood the enemy. He also cites other incidents of dying heroically as Quattrocchi, specifically the executions of William Logan Crittenden and John Andr?. (Robbins said Andr?’s execution as necessitated by desire to avenge for the execution of Nathan Hale, but strangely he didn’t mention Hale’s own bravery before the hangman.)

The other article is about Pat Tillman and recounts other NFL players who fought and died in war. The account of 1st Lt. Jack Lummus, a 29-year-old defensive lineman with the New York Giants and former All-American at Baylor University, who fought the Japanese in World War II, is especially moving:

Lummus left the Giants to join the Marine Corps in January 1942, one month after the attack on Pearl Harbor.

Like Tillman, who joined the Army Rangers after the terrorist attacks of 9/11, Lummus didn’t simply enlist in the service. He joined one of the world’s toughest military organizations ? the U.S. Marines ? because he knew by doing so he stood an excellent chance of being directly involved in the hottest action. He wanted to fight those who had attacked his country, and he got his wish.

On the morning of March 8, 1945, Lummus was leading a rifle platoon with 2nd Battalion, 27th Marines when he was knocked down by a grenade blast. Stunned, but uninjured, he leapt to his feet, charged an enemy bunker, and “killed its occupants with a single sweep of his submachine gun,” according to historian Bill D. Ross. A second grenade shattered Lummus’s shoulder. Still he attacked, destroying another enemy position.

Then leading his men in a wild charge against a third emplacement, the New York Giant stepped on a mine that detonated with a terrific blast heard across the island. When the roar subsided, Lummus’s Marines could hear their lieutenant shouting, “Forward! Keep moving!”

The Marines could hear Lummus’s voice, but they were not able to see him until the dust and smoke of the blast cleared.

At first, the Marines thought their lieutenant was standing in a hole. They then realized he was upright on two bloody stumps. His legs were gone, and much of his lower trunk had been shredded.

Several of the younger Marines, weeping like children, ran to him. For a moment they considered shooting him to put him out of his misery. But Lummus kept urging them forward. “Dammit, keep moving! You can’t stop now!”

According to the official Marine Corps report. “Their tears turned to rage. They swept an incredible 300 yards over impossible ground… There was no question that the dirty, tired men, cursing and crying and fighting, had done it for Jack Lummus.”

Lummus lingered for several hours, always conscious, managing a few smiles, at one point quipping, “Well, I guess the New York Giants have lost the services of a damned good end.”