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PFLUGERVILLE, Tex. — They had no plan, really, just memories. So after a few moments of awkward indecision, the young men ambled single file up to a simple gravestone to pay their respects. Each left behind a red or pale yellow rose, a mumbled word or a salty tear. Lance Cpl. Nickalous N. Aldrich, the stone read. Born Aug. 12, 1983, in Austin. Died Aug. 27, 2004, in Iraq.


A single Marine in dress uniform, sweating under the gauzy sun, raised his sword to his nose and said a silent prayer. Then, as everyone else turned to leave, another Marine wearing cargo shorts and a T-shirt poured the last of his Budweiser onto the grass, crushed the can and laid it beside the flowers.


Every ritual starts somewhere. And for the men of the Second Battalion, Fourth Marine Regiment, which fought in Ramadi, Iraq, this one began four years ago on Memorial Day weekend, when about a dozen veterans decided on the spur of the moment to visit the grave of one of their fallen comrades in a cemetery near Houston.


Each Memorial Day weekend since, the event has grown via word of mouth, with Marines from the 2-4, most in their 20s, coming from across the country to spend a few days together near cemeteries in places like Nashville or Indianapolis. “We decided we have to do this for everyone,” said Richard Cantu, one of the event organizers.


This weekend, about three dozen men, some bringing girlfriends and wives, gathered at a campground along the Gaudalupe River in the hill country of Texas. They spent Saturday drinking beer and whiskey late into the night and telling stories, funny ones and horrible ones.


Other units may have lost more troops over 12- or 15-month deployments, but the 2-4 is widely thought to have taken more casualties — 34 dead and more than 255 wounded — than any other American unit during a six-month tour of either Iraq or Afghanistan.


Its 2004 fighting was largely drowned out by the bigger news from nearby Fallujah, where the killing of four contractors led to all-out offensives by other Marine Corps units. As battles raged in Fallujah, drawing intensive news coverage, many insurgents were slipping into Ramadi, where on April 6 they orchestrated a stunningly well-executed ambush on the Marines from the 2-4.


Though a military official told reporters that the fighting in Ramadi was over after a few hours, it continued episodically for days, with about a dozen Marines dying and scores more wounded. The situation would calm down, but the Marines of the 2-4 never really had a peaceful day for the rest of their deployment.


Gabe Henderson, one of the Memorial Day event organizers, said members of the battalion had arrived in Iraq expecting their tour to be about “winning hearts and minds” more than combat. They took unarmored Humvees bolstered anemically with sandbags and plywood. But after coming under fire on each patrol, they welded metal bars to the windows to protect drivers from being shot in the face.


“We thought we’d be shaking hands and handing out stuff and not wearing body armor,” Mr. Henderson said. “Instead, we were in a firefight every other day.”


The first man wounded that tour was Brian McPherson, who lost much of his jaw from a roadside bomb. Today, 13 facial reconstruction operations later, he raises rodeo bulls on his farm north of Austin. He came to the Memorial Day reunion this year for the first time, coaxing his best friend from the unit, Greg Coats, to come too.


Mr. Coats had gone to work in law enforcement in Oklahoma after leaving the Marine Corps, living an adrenaline-fueled life on the edge. He has crashed his motorcycle at least half a dozen times, and for years he drank to excess, he says. He also had nightmares almost nightly about death and dying in Iraq. A few months ago, he burned his diaries and photographs from Ramadi, hoping the nightmares would stop. They did not.


“I lost some good memories,” he said of the lost photographs. The reunion helped restore a few, he said, sipping water instead of beer — an indication, his wife says, that he is healing.


Also in attendance was the family of Lance Corporal Aldrich, who died when he was struck by a Marine Corps vehicle during a lights-out night patrol in Ramadi. His mother, Jonna, a long-haul truck driver, heard the news of his death while at a truck stop in Amarillo.