A Fallen Hero

I’m in a war.

As odd as it may sound there are times when I don’t realize that. I’ve fallen into a routine and I’ve grown comfortable, almost complacent, in that routine. I’m also in a relatively safe location that isn’t often impacted by the war going on around it. Days can go by when the only real reminder that we’re at war is seeing the Army troops walking around with their M-16s and seeing the Humvees with guys standing out the top in the gunner’s seat.

Today I received another, more poignant, reminder that this is an area in conflict and that I’m in the middle of a war.

One of the men from another part of my unit – conducting a different mission than me and my airmen – was killed in action a few days ago. Today we held a memorial service for him at sundown. I was honored to attend.

I have never been to a military funeral before. We’ve all seen the depictions of them before on TV, but to be at a memorial service standing in a formation with over 200 Soldiers, Sailors, Marines, and Airmen with representatives from other countries’ services paying their respects for a fallen brother-in-arms is a moving experience.

I didn’t know the man, but I knew his heart.

The Commander said some words about him and the mission he was accomplishing. I can’t go into the details of what he was doing, but he was in the thick of it, working outside the wire with Iraqis training them to take control of their country, giving them the tools to succeed. He spoke of the bravery of the young man; and the bravery of all who gathered to pay our respects.

Standing at a attention, in formation, in front of a flagpole with a small memorial before it – boots, upturned rifle with Kevlar helmet on top, and a picture of the soldier in service dress beside it – filled me with conflicting emotions. I was saddened for the soldier and his family back home. I was thankful for my own safety and that of my troops in this dangerous place. A part of me was also afraid of what it would mean for all my friends and family if it was my picture in that frame. I thought of Heather. I thought of Aidan.

After the chaplain delivered his sermon the loudspeakers on either side of the Humvee played “Green Beret”. While everyone in attendance rendered a salute, a lone bugler played Taps – the haunting melody hung in the air as the flag was lowered from half staff and folded and set reverently in front of the boots on the memorial.

That completed the service. We were invited to show our respects and dismissed. Immediately the formation of 200 turned into a line as everyone stepped up to the memorial and rendered their own salute to this fallen hero who died in service to his country. At one point, two men walked up together, in step as best they could in the gravel, placed an item beside the boots, and saluted together.

I’ll never forget the face looking back at me from that picture when I gave him my salute. I saw a man content with his choices, thankful for all that he had been given, and ready to take on the mission.

I see the same look on the faces of all my troops every day.