"I want you to wear it when you're writing your blog," instructed my active-duty Marine Corps son, a combat vet of Iraq. He had bought me a T-shirt during a visit to Tombstone, Arizona.

The words on the shirt are attributed to Wyatt Earp, but I suspect that would be the movie Wyatt Earp as opposed to the real one who was apparently pretty tough in his own right. According to the October 27, 1881 Tombstone newspaper, the Epitaph, write-up after the gunfight at the O.K. Corral, Wyatt: "stood up and fired in rapid succession, as cool as a cucumber, and was not hit."

(Though I'm partial to its description of Doc Holliday who was "calm as if at target practice.")

At any rate, the remark on my new T-shirt was supposed to have been spoken after Ike Clanton and the McLowry brothers and the "cow-boy" outlaws they ran with had repeatedly threatened the Earps and their friend Doc Holliday.

They seemed to be spoiling for a fight, all right, according to trial testimony, and in response, Wyatt testified that he did say: "You d--d dirty cur thief, you have been threatening our lives, and I know it. I think I should be justified in shooting you down any place I should meet you, but if you are anxious for a fight, I will go anywhere on earth to make a fight with you..."

It seems the O.K. Corral sufficed.

But my new T-shirt doesn't say anything about cur dogs, damned or otherwise, but I expect if ole Wyatt could read it, he'd be sorry he hadn't thought of it himself:

"You called down the thunder. Now you got it. Tell 'em I'm coming, and HELL'S coming with me."

Like many young men, my son loves that movie--the one with Kurt Russell and Sam Elliot and Val Kilmer and Bill Paxton. He loves it so much, in fact, that I got him my one and only e-bay purchase--a movie poster autographed by the whole cast.

But he doesn't love it the way some do. He loves it because the Doc Holliday played by Val Kilmer reminds him so powerfully of his best friend, who died at his own hand when they were 19. And not just that, but the close friendship between them, the way the brothers and Doc would march into the jaws of hell for one another, would risk their lives for each other.

Much like Marines do.

And that, when they felt threatened and knew their lives were in jeopardy, they stood up and fought, and were exonerated in court.

Now, I'm sure all you history buffs will be inclined to post long passages on the truth about that legendary fight, and you're welcome to do so, but if you do, you will have missed the point.

This isn't about a movie or about a wild West gunfight or about the Earp brothers and their friends.

It's about standing up and fighting for what's right when you feel threatened, not alone, however, but with a group of people you can count on.

My son knows how vehemently I have fought--in written word, which is my weapon--to end this war. He also knows how I set my objections aside during his deployments and did everything in my power to make him feel our love, support, and prayers during his time in hell.

He's sick of burying buddies. He wants it to end, too, but he's a Marine, and he knows that he might have to go back a third time.

This trip to Tombstone was a special little treat for my son. He's always wanted to go, and when his dad had some business in Arizona, they set it up ahead of time so he could take a couple days' leave and they could meet there and spend some time hanging out and doing fun things like drinking a beer at the Crystal Palace saloon.

War is far away in a place like that.

But he found this shirt at a souvenir shop and wanted to get it for me. His dad brought it back for me, and later, over the phone, Dustin said, "Wear it when you write your blog."

I laughed and said, "Well, I wear my peace-sign medallion necklace!"

And he said, "No. There is no more peace. You're in a fight now. You want to go after Bush, don't you? HE BROUGHT DOWN THE THUNDER, and now, you're coming, and all hell's coming with you."

And that's one of those moments when you get a big ole lump in your foolish mom-throat.

I supported my son when he needed it, and now he is supporting me. We have had family in Iraq almost continuously since the war began--sometimes two cousins in-country at the same time. Got another one there now. He just got there and already his tour's been extended.

Dustin knows that, in my mind, I am fighting for them, and I am speaking out on behalf of military families who feel the same way but fear speaking out because they don't want to get their loved ones in any trouble. I get e-mails from them saying, "Keep doing what you're doing."

And maybe it's not so very much, really. A blog. Attempts to publish op-eds. Comments on news websites and other blogs. This blog here and others--wherever there is a place where my voice can be heard, where I can tell the truth as I see it.

But mine is not the only voice. There is a growing chorus, getting louder, and all the voices are not necessarily civilian ones, either. We are rising up, and we are saying, "Enough."

Justice Wells Spicer, in his verdict releasing the Earps and Holliday, wrote, "As the result plainly proves (Marshall Virgil Earp) needed the assistance and support of staunch and true friends, upon whose courage, coolness and fidelity he could depend in case of an emergency."

I told my son, "If my voice is like a drop of water, but there are enough drops to make an ocean wave, then eventually, it will be enough."

Bush and his "weekend armchair warriors" as Barack Obama referred to them in 2002, may have brought down the thunder, all right.

But we're coming.

And hell's coming with us.

(cross-posted at http://www.tpmcafe.com/blog/deanie_mills)