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It is with deep regret that the Ministry of Defence has to confirm the death of Corporal Ian Plank, who was killed by hostile fire during a Coalition operation in Iraq late on 31 October 2003. Corporal Plank, who was 31 years old, was a member of the Royal Marines and came from Poole.
Colonel Jerry Heal, the Director Royal Marines, said:
"Ian Plank was an extremely popular and greatly admired member of the Royal Marines, widely respected for his professional excellence, commitment and determination. He was particularly well known for his resilience and robustness under pressure, when his leadership, example and sense of humour were especially valued. He embodied all the personal and professional qualities associated with the Royal Marines and he enriched the lives of those who knew him, both socially and in the work place. His positive outlook, bright disposition and zest for life will be remembered with deep pride and affection by all who knew him, and most of all by his family and those members of the Royal Marines and others with whom he served around the world."

The media are strongly asked to respect the family's privacy at this very difficult time; our thoughts and prayers are with them.

Corporal Ian Plank, Royal Marines<===click here in honour of a Royal Marine.

Thanks for the post archy, we must remember all our fallen heroes, and for the previous one on Flanders Field, one of may favorite World War I poems. I once wrote a World War I style poem myself. Tell me what you think.

Their Loved Ones Slowly Die

Brave men heard the bugle call
And soldiers made reply
And died in war but never saw
Their loved ones slowly die.

They died not on the battlefield
In attack or stern defence;
Their blood filled not the trenches
Nor flowed from the wire fence.

They died in tears of silence
As the mailman called each day;
Once more they died when the vicar cried
It is time for us to pray.

Their platforms were the graveyards
From which the trooptrains pulled away
To borderlines and guns and mines
And piles of rotting clay.

Men still hear the bugle call,
And soldiers still reply,
And leave once more to die in war
While their loved ones slowly die.