I think this weekend it is important to remember the hard things. It is what we owe our fallen, and we owe the nation as it's the most precious of treasures we spend in our profession. I'd encourage others here to write their remembrances of those who are not coming back, and what we lost in their deaths. I think by remembering them, we can assure ourselves and their memories that they did not pass unnoticed, and that we honor their sacrifice.
Our pastor, as I'm sure many pastors across the United States did this Sunday, started off his sermon with recognition of those whose service to our freedom cost them their lives. It got me thinking about how we memorialize our fallen and who we memorialize and why. When this war started, the first person I knew who was killed was a former IOBC instructor working at the Pentagon. Ironically it was at IOBC in 1996 where a visiting speaker on leadership stated with finality that as we progress through our careers we will see some of our friends and peers killed in service to the nation. Up until 2001, there were few serious injuries, and no deaths that I was aware of.
When 1-24th deployed to Mosul, I had finished my command time and was moving on to whatever it is that you do after command -- mainly clear out for the next guy. I'd had a rifle company and a HHC, and I had thoroughly enjoyed my time as a CDR -- up until that time it was the high point of my time as an officer. I had helped to build two very good teams, and as such to build the larger teams of the BN and BDE. I say helped because there were so many truly good officers and men, but it was time to move on and after almost 4 years at Fort Lewis the face of the organization was changing.
You don't invest a large part of yourself in people and an organization though without having concerns. One of the last things I remember there was the BN CSM Tom Adams opening up one of the first deployment briefings explaining why getting your personal life in order was so important before deploying to war. There was silence and a few nervous laughs when the CSM reminded the men that some of them and their buddies would not return -- they would die in combat.
From my follow on job, I kept tabs on the BN and most important to me, those I had special bonds with -- the ones who I had sat on a range with and talked about shooting, knew where they were from, had shared coffee with, discussed some personal problem I might help them solve, or just BS'd with on the stairs to the company or in their platoon CP. I had friends and my old boss, who when they found time could shoot me an email with news.
It was not too long before the first deaths occurred. The first occurred when a suicide bomber infiltrated the Mosul Dining Facility. From my job in Fort Knox I tried to imagine how it happened, even with some details from friends I could not wrap my mind around it. I thought of the families that were left behind, the potential that was lost and I was empty about how to feel. Just too many lost at once. Over the year there were more. Some came about in two way engagements to a cunning enemy, some the result of sudden and violent ambush where the enemy probably withdrew quickly, not even waiting to see what he'd accomplished. All were people I would not have expected to be killed, they were all at the top of their game, and all were professional soldiers.
Almost a year after 1-24th returned home, I found myself headed to Mosul, in the same exact area where my old BN had served. I was working with many of the same Iraqi soldiers the 1-24 had served with when it was just the ING. As I wrote my buddies from the BN they were able to provide me some insights to the area, and even joke about things such as the COP I was living in -- my old XO told me to be on the look out for an ASIP radio that one of my old SFCs had lost there -- but not to worry since he'd already been charged for it. In turn I would tell them how things were there going -- they were much better then when the BN had been there -- their efforts and sacrifices were paying off for Mosul. Another thing was interesting; many of the IA officers and senior NCOs knew many of the same people I did. They had a high reputation of the BN and the 1/25th Lancer BDE. Their impression of the leadership shown by the men of 1-24th had provided them the means by which they persevered through the hardest times. Even now they could look back on the American examples and find the moral fiber to see it through.
This IA BN and our MiTT grew to be the family you hear about when men & women share combat together. We were risking our lives together, sharing our thoughts, hopes and expectations. We ate, drank tea, smoked cigarettes, patrolled, got shot at, mortared, etc. all together -- just like any other unit. I lost some good Iraqi friends over that year, and of course I expect to lose more friends. While many of my friends and I myself will rotate back through somewhere in this long war, the people who live in these places must contest it day in and day out, they don't rotate back. Their families are there, so that is what they must do. They are pragmatic and resigned to struggle. I memorialize those dead in that family as well -- we all fight for the same thing.
It is important to grieve. Its may be more important on a national level that we remember and acknowledge. It provides the perspective of ice water in regards to the cost of war and the knowledge that war is a gamble and the stakes are often higher then we concede. War is about people, and it entails sacrifice. We should not approach it lightly, and we should always be prepared so that sacrifice is minimized when the object of war dictates violence. For most of us here, war is our business. We will remember our friends and family who have fallen. It is probably not coincidence that our pastor followed his thoughts on Memorial Day with a sermon on the Mustard Seed. One man or woman can make a difference -- Good bye to our friends, they did not die for naught.
Comments
And God bless <em>you</em>, Ms. TJsMom.
Received this comment via other means:
"God, it breaks your heart to know the depths we feel for each other and the heartache that accompanies loss. Since I've had kids I've come to fear both their deaths and the effect my death would have on them far more then I fear my own. Leaders carry around much the same burden, it's an awful lot to ask, and yet we do - those outside the culture rarely understand it, they just don't have to deal with it, so it's foreign. They think it's about numbers generally, but it's so much more."
I'm the mother of SPC Rafael Carrillo - TJ as we called him. Thanks for the wonderful story. I never tire of hearing and reading about TJ. We miss him so much, his laughter was infectious and I would give anything to hear him one more time on the phone saying "hi mom, it's TJ". God Bless all of our soldiers, their families and our country.
To the two comrades I lost:
PFC Ryan McCauley, 20 y/o, KIA 5 Sept 04 - McCauley was one of my Bradley drivers in Korea, 2ndPLT, D Co., 1-9IN. Goofy as hell, with one of those loud laughs that allowed you to know where he was without having to see him. A real pro with the Bradley (and a deck of cards), both operating it and maintaining it. He completed his time in Korea and rotated home for some brief leave, then strait to Baghdad with the 1st Cav. Less than 2 months after he left us, he was killed. One of the hardest things I ever had to do was break that news to my guys, especially SSG Morway and SPC Meredith, the commander and gunner from his Bradley. Im neither a religious nor a superstitious person, but I wore a memorial bracelet with McCauley's name on it every day during my tour in Baghdad. I like to think he kept an eye on me.
SPC Rafael Carrillo, 21 y/o, KIA 28 June 05 - Carrillo was one of my HMMWV gunners in Iraq, Mortar PLT, 1-64AR, 3ID. A ballsy kid who could do an amazing impression of almost anyone, he actually impersonated our 1SG on one occasion and got away with it because it was so accurate and got a laugh out of the 1SG. I thought of him as my back up interpreter. Couldnt really speak Arabic, except for some curse words, but he was a master of "Arablish" as he called it, which was the broken English we heard from the Iraqis all the time ("Bebsi" instead of "Pepsi"). One of the funniest soldiers Ive ever known, he was never the less a tireless professional at the M240B in his HMMWV. He was always doing the right thing, right up to the moment he was killed. He had been using the gunner's shield for cover while he scanned the area when a mortar round landed right next to his truck and a fragment snuck in through the two inch gap between the shield and the machine gun. He died on the MEDEVAC chopper. Worst day of my life. My HMMWV driver, SPC Ghani, lost his best friend that day, and was never the same. One was too young to die, and the other too young to lose his best friend.
From Band of Brothers: "We wondered if the people would ever know what it cost the soldiers in terror, bloodshed, and hideous, agonizing deaths to win the war."
<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2007/05/28/opinion/28kondor.html" rel="nofollow nofollow">Living on Iraq Time</a> by Mike Kondor.
<i>Every evening at 10, beeps emanate from the top drawer of my dresser. The sound comes from a watch that has resided there for just over three years. The 20 beeps signify that another day is dawning in Iraq. The watch belonged to my son, Specialist Martin Kondor, who was killed in action with the Army on the morning of April 29, 2004, in the city of Baquba, north of Baghdad. Martin was 20 years old.</i>
<i>Since his death, three Memorial Days have come and gone, and while most people think of Memorial Day as just a day off from work, an occasion for a backyard cookout or a chance to score a good deal at a spectacular sale, for families like mine, Memorial Day has a more somber meaning. For us, the day is a further reminder that our loved one is gone forever...</i>
A must read from the Washington Post.
<a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/05/25/AR20070…; rel="nofollow nofollow">I Lost My Son to a War I Oppose. We Were Both Doing Our Duty.</a>
There are many, Ill mention three in memory of all...
<b>Staff Sergeant Thomas P. Thorstad, USMC.</b> Killed in the bombing of the Marine Barracks, Beirut, Lebanon, 23 October 1983. Tom worked for me as a SGT - bright, great sense of humor and everything a young lieutenant could ever hope for in a NCO. You are not forgotten.
<b>Colonel William Richard "Rich" Higgins, USMC.</b> Killed by pro-Iranian terrorist cowards in Lebanon, 6 July 1990. Then Major Higgins was the S-3 (OpsO) when I reported in to 3/2 as the S-2 (IntelO). He was a mentor - told me that when we were in front of the 6 (Bn Cmdr) we were equals and not to let the rank difference inhibit my assessments or recommendations to the Battalion Commander. You are not forgotten.
<b>Private First Class Roger Charles Nesbit, USMC.</b> My cousin. KIA 13 February 1969, Quang Tri Province - RVN. College was well within his sights but he opted to serve his country instead. His mother, Mary Jane Nesbit, wrote a poem on the first anniversary of Roger's passing:
<center><i>Just a year ago today, my son, you left this lowly earth
So far from perfect - yet who can judge her worth
Beset with inner turmoil - so torn apart with strife
I only hope that in the end, dear, she's worthy of your life
You gave your life so gallantly - standing on that hill
You and thousands like you - was it God's will?
My country, right or wrong, was your philosophy
If that was good enough for you son, then it has to be for me</i></center>
Roger, you are not forgotten.
Semper Fi, God Speed, Fair Winds and Following Seas to all...
Rob,
Thanks for that. Your are correct in saying you must allow yourself to grieve because you are human.
It is nearly 20 years since I lost two friends in Lebanon and I remember them every year. I keep Rich Higgins picture on my wall next to the brochure for the commissioning of the U.S.S. Higgins. I dedicated my memoirs to Rich and Peter McCarthy, both of whom died serving peace, armed with a UN beret and a smile.
But I also dedicated my memoirs to anyone who puts themselves at risk in the servive of their fellow man because to me service to mankind was at the center of my belief system when I wore a uniform. Cops, firemen, statesmen, and spies to name a few find motivation in serving something beyond themselves and they bet their lives in so doing.
Finally I would point out to you, Rob, that in remembering your unit and its losses in Mosul, you can be proud that you provided leadership along the way that helped them minimize those losses.