Memorial Day is a tough day for me. It’s not about the parades, the barbeques and fireworks. To me, Memorial Day is about remembering the 1.2 million-plus men and women who have given their lives to protect our freedoms. It is remembering the team members who died in my arms. The sadness I felt can’t be described. Did I cry when I was holding them listening to their last words? …Telling me to make sure that I wrote to their wives to tell them that they loved them? You bet I did. And I am not ashamed to admit it.
Those memories haunt me every day. As their leader did I do enough to protect them? Could I have done more? Why them and not me?
When I was stationed at Fort Dix in New Jersey I had the unenviable task of leading a notification detail for two months. We had to go notify families that their sons or husbands had been killed in action. The area we had to cover was New Jersey and eastern Pennsylvania around Philadelphia. Quite frankly, I would choose being in combat rather than facing those families.
We had to notify ten families in that time span. When we pulled up to their homes they knew why we were there. We got out of the car and they saw our uniforms which were dress blues for both myself and the Non-Commissioned Officers. As we walked up to the door, we heard screams from inside the home. Several of the wives wouldn’t open the door. They must’ve thought that if they didn’t talk to us, it didn’t happen. I had some family members slap me for bringing the bad news.
The notification that really got to me was a wife of a soldier who was in the First Cavalry Division. I gave her the news, she started crying and came up to me and just put her arms around me sobbing uncontrollably. She said, “If I hold you, it feels like my husband.” I never had training on how to handle that. Believe me when I tell you there was some alcohol consumed that night.
Yes, I do celebrate Memorial Day in the conventional way. Yet, there are so many incidents I remember that truly shaped my life.
