This cake will go to the family of this kid, sent to Iraq by men with no capacity for learning, wisdom, or regret. It is a damned sad maddening story. I never met him but there's only two or three degrees of separation between him and me (he was the foster brother of the friend of a friend of mine's son, but I have met the friend of the son, so count that out on your fingers); it's the closest I've come to someone who's died there.
My friend went to the funeral, and stopped to thank one of the 70 person motorcycle honor guard (she said they were scruffy looking, but she's very brave and gracious), and said "You must be getting tired of doing this–almost 4,000 funerals now."
"Oh no," he said. "Only about 3,600."