Thank You

Image courtesy: Staff Sgt. Joseph Swafford

The sight of a fallen hero's flag-draped casket returning to American soil. The sound of a grieving loved one's anguish. The indelible memory of meeting a young man or woman who lost one or more limbs on the battlefield.

Since February 2011, when my first newspaper column was released, these devastating moments have echoed through every facet of my life. The last three and a half years have been difficult and emotional, but what I've endured is nothing compared to what a U.S. service member, veteran or military family sacrifices on a daily basis.

The Americans I've met and spoken to while writing this weekly column are some of the most extraordinary people on the planet. They are brave, selfless, and strong. They are husbands, wives, dads, moms, brothers and sisters. They are, without a doubt, the best our nation can offer to a troubled world that is in dire need of America's leadership and compassion.

Even though I had worked at CNN and blogged about the military before launching this column, I came into this effort with little understanding of the Armed Forces. I knew our troops were courageous, but didn't realize just how much is required of service members and their families. I knew that families of the fallen suffered, but failed to grasp that for them, the war will never end.

I knew that many combat veterans came home from war with harrowing memories, but didn't have a handle on what witnessing the evil of America's enemies could do to a young man or woman. I knew that suicide in the military was a problem, but couldn't have possibly understood its gravity before speaking to family members suffering from the permanent grief and confusion of a loved one taking their own life.

In short, I knew almost nothing about military life. I started writing the column because I thought that millions of Americans probably felt the same way: They respected our Armed Forces, but didn't fully comprehend the depth of the military community's sacrifice.

Image courtesy: Cpl. Reece Lodder

Less than 1 percent of Americans serve in uniform. While many of my relatives served in previous wars, I only knew one person who had deployed to Iraq or Afghanistan before I started interviewing troops and veterans. My guess is that many people reading this column have a similar connection, or lack thereof, to the America's post-9/11 conflicts.

It is absolutely critical that every single one of us makes a concerted effort to learn more about the men and women who protect us. We can't help solve the many challenges that our heroes face if we have no understanding of their sacrifices.

Whether it's been a story about a fallen hero, veteran or service member, I hope this column has given you a better appreciation of this new Greatest Generation, as some now rightfully refer to our nation's volunteer warriors. For me, the way I look at our military will never be the same. Our men and women in uniform are even more heroic than I thought they were.

My daughter is 3 years old. Someday, I will ask her to read the stories of the men and women who stepped forward to defend our nation after it was attacked. Rather than trying to follow in the footsteps of so-called celebrities, I hope she will grow up wanting to be like our nation's real stars: those who are willing to fight for freedom.

A new career opportunity is forcing me to end this column. From the bottom of my heart, thank you to Creators Syndicate and my editor, Simone Slykhous, for your graciousness and guidance. Thank you to each newspaper for running these weekly stories, and to you for reading them.

Most of all, thank you to the troops, veterans and military families who trusted me to help tell your incredible stories. I am in awe of your kindness, integrity, and valor.

I conclude this journey with a quote from "Brothers Forever," which I co-authored with the father of a fallen Marine. The short passage was written to describe thousands of headstones at Arlington National Cemetery, where so many American heroes rest.

"There is no inscription to define the meaning of their sacrifice. That mission is ours."

COPYRIGHT 2014 CREATORS.COM

Image courtesy: Matthew Sileo Photography

Brothers Forever: 'Loon-Dog'

Images courtesy: Da Capo Press

The following is an excerpt from "Brothers Forever," which I co-authored with retired U.S. Marine Col. Tom Manion. The book will be released on May 13.

In this scene, U.S. Navy LT (SEAL) Brendan Looney is serving in Afghanistan three years after his friend and Naval Academy roommate, Marine 1st Lt. Travis Manion, was killed in Iraq.

"With the Taliban launching its annual spring offensive, Brendan and his platoon started to see more action in May [2010], just as he had predicted in his email to Tom and Janet [Manion]. Surrounded by jagged cliffs, extreme poverty, and acute desolation, which many of the younger SEALs had never experienced, it was Brendan's responsibility to keep them optimistic, focused, and sharp. But considering that the SEALs were sleeping on a [base] 'in the middle of nowhere,' thousands of miles from home, setting a positive tone was never an easy task.

"Rather than barking out orders to the SEALs under his command, Brendan was 'Loon-Dog.' The enlisted SEALs, or 'E-Dogs,' as they were nicknamed, loved working for the 29-year-old lieutenant, because even though Brendan was an officer, he still thought of himself as just one of the guys.

"During his deployment, Brendan spent roughly the equivalent of two full weeks on 'over watch' missions above three districts in northern Zabul province, where the lieutenant and SEALs under his command would look down from the cliffs to make sure their brothers in arms operating below were safe from lurking Taliban and al Qaeda fighters. But after only a day or two on the high ground, Brendan was concerned that his primary responsibilities as an officer and squad commander weren't enough of a contribution to his platoon. Upon returning to base, he started training on a .50 caliber sniper rifle so he could directly help his teammates blunt the enemy threat.

"After only limited training, Brendan was a consistent shot from a thousand yards. Over the next few months he made some of the most accurate shots his teammates had ever seen to protect Americans and Afghans in the villages below.

"Wearing a half-shell helmet and carrying heavy gear and the .50 cal sniper rifle in his huge backpack, the bearded warrior patrolled, exercised, ate and hung out with his entire platoon.

"When there was extra gear to carry, the officer threw it on his back instead of ordering enlisted SEALs to carry it. Regardless of the command structure or rank, Loon-Dog treated everyone with the same respect.

"When things got dicey on the battlefield, however, there was no mistaking who was in charge, like one day when gunfire rang out beneath the over watch position Brendan's SEAL team had established above a small, Taliban-controlled Afghan village.

"'Incoming!' Brendan yelled.

"As bullets pounded the mountain rocks that were shielding his team, who took cover as soon as they heard their leader's unmistakable voice, Brendan's commanding officer (CO) asked for a status report over the radio.

"'We've got enemy fire coming from just outside the village,' Brendan said. 'Nobody's been hit, and we're prepping the counterattack.'

"'Lieutenant?' the CO asked.

"'Sir?' Brendan repeated what he had said a few times before realizing the signal was dropping in and out, as it had been for most of the day.

"'Lieutenant,' the CO repeated. 'If you copy, call me on the SAT [satellite] phone.'

"As soon as Brendan heard the order, he broke his crouch and stood up. The SAT phone was a few yards in front of the boulder that was protecting him.

"'Whoa, Loon-Dog,' exclaimed a surprised fellow SEAL. 'Be careful, sir.'

"Brendan knew his CO wouldn't ask him to call unless it was extremely important, and for all he knew, retrieving the satellite phone could be a matter of life and death. Without blinking, Brendan hustled toward the phone, picked it up, and returned to his position as bullets whizzed by.

"'Loon-Dog ... you all right?' [Brendan's teammate] said.

"'I'm OK,' said Brendan, acting more like he was taking an afternoon stroll than engaging in an intense firefight.

"Brendan then told his CO that his men were ready to strike back at the enemy. Moments later he aimed his sniper rifle at the enemy position. When the day was over, the Navy SEALs had once again disrupted the Taliban's plans."

COPYRIGHT 2014 CREATORS.COM

"Brothers Forever" will be released on May 13 and is available now for pre-order at brothersforeverbook.com

Never Complain

Images courtesy: Kantor family

Navy SEALs are known for their bravery, toughness and physical prowess. But as I've met, interviewed and written about these American heroes, the trait that's impressed me most is the one Mary Jane Kantor emphasized about her son during our recent phone interview.

"He never complained," she said repeatedly.

Long before U.S. Navy Petty Officer 2nd Class Matthew Kantor became one of our nation's elite warriors, he was thinking about serving his country while growing up about 30 miles from Manhattan in Gillette, N.J.

"He always wanted to go into the military ... since the day he was born, really," Mary Jane said.

When Matt was in high school, military recruiters started calling the Kantor home. His mother would usually hang up on them, fearing that the horror her community had felt on 9/11 — when Matt was 11 years old — would someday put her son's life at risk. But no matter how much she tried to dissuade him, Matt was on a mission.

"He was training for something," Matt's mom said. "He wasn't joining the swim team for fun ... he would be swimming lap after lap."

Following high school, Matt received a full scholarship to the New Jersey Institute of Technology. He returned home to his parents after four days.

"Your dream is college," Matt said to his mom. "My dream is to become a Navy SEAL."

Each year, hundreds of the nation's strongest and bravest try to become SEALs. Most fail. Matt, who trained in New York with former SEALs before heading to Coronado, Calif., was unwavering in his quest to graduate from Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL (BUD/S) training.

"He was determined," Mary Jane said. "Things were going pretty well ... he never complained about it."

In May 2010, after making it through "Hell Week" and more than five additional months of one of the world's most rigorous training programs, Matt completed BUD/S. He wasn't old enough to buy a beer, but Matt had earned his Navy SEAL trident.

Soon after he was stationed near Virginia Beach, Matt called his mom with big news: He would soon deploy to Afghanistan with SEAL Team Four.

"To him, and to all those guys, I think, that's where they want to go," the SEAL's mom said. "You train for it for three years."

Matt had been in Afghanistan for about six weeks when Superstorm Sandy began ravaging his home state. On Nov. 1, 2012, Matt's parents had just returned home from their daughter's college, Rutgers University, where they took their first hot showers in days after losing electricity.

Then, at about 11 p.m., their doorbell rang. When Matt's father, Kenneth, answered, he saw something just as terrible as the surrounding aftermath of a deadly hurricane. Outside in the dark were two Navy sailors tasked with sharing dreadful news about their son.

"I really did not believe it," Matt's mom said of the harrowing moments that followed.

A few days later, the devastated Kantors received a letter from SEAL Team Four in Afghanistan.

"While on patrol, several insurgents mounted a complex machine gun attack on Matt and his team," it read in part. "Without fear or hesitation, Matt moved to protect his teammates and was mortally wounded by the heavy machine gun fire.

"He was the first line of defense for his team and his actions were directly responsible for saving the lives of his element and protecting the main body of the patrol," the letter continued. "Matt was true to form in his last moments, a gallant and noble warrior who put his team above himself."

Petty Officer 2nd Class (SEAL) Matthew Kantor, 22, would posthumously receive the Bronze Star with Valor. When Kenneth eulogized his son in a packed church operating on generator power, he captured the feelings of the fallen warrior's loved ones, friends and teammates.

"I am so, so proud of you," Matt's dad said. "You died a hero."

Even after losing their oldest son, Kenneth and Mary Jane Kantor exemplify the trait that Matt shared with his fellow Navy SEALs. They never complain, and are also grateful to everyone who continues to surround their family with love and support.

"As hard as it is, it's nice that people aren't forgetting him," Matt's mom said.

COPYRIGHT 2014 CREATORS.COM

Tom Sileo is a nationally syndicated columnist and co-author of BROTHERS FOREVER: The Enduring Bond Between a Marine and a Navy SEAL that Transcended Their Ultimate Sacrifice. Written with Col. Tom Manion (Ret.) and published by Da Capo Press, BROTHERS FOREVER will be released in May. To find out more about Tom Sileo, or to read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators website.

Brothers Forever: 'If Not Me, Then Who...'

Image courtesy: Travis Manion Foundation

Every week, I write a column about America's heroes and their families that your newspaper is kind enough to publish. I am eternally grateful for the support of readers like you, who are eager to read the personal stories of our nation's brave men and women in uniform.

On Feb. 6, 2011, my first column — "Closer to You" — marked the beginning of this series, which was aimed at increasing awareness about the sacrifices still being made by our military community. It told the story of U.S. Marine 1st Lt. Travis Manion, 26, who was killed in Iraq on Apr. 29, 2007, and U.S. Navy LT (SEAL) Brendan Looney, 29, who made the ultimate sacrifice in Afghanistan on Sept. 21, 2010. These close friends and U.S. Naval Academy roommates are buried side-by-side at Arlington National Cemetery.

Nine months later, I started writing a book with 1st Lt. Manion's father, U.S. Marine Col. Tom Manion (Ret.). "Brothers Forever," which will be published by Da Capo Press in May, chronicles not only the enduring bond of Travis and Brendan, who met just before 9/11, but salutes their courageous families and all the heroes who have stepped forward since our country was attacked.

The following excerpt is adapted from the fourth chapter of "Brothers Forever." In December 2006, Travis was attending a Monday Night Football game with his brother-in-law while preparing for his second deployment to Fallujah, Iraq. The five words Travis uttered that night — "if not me, then who ... " — deeply inspired his friend and former roommate, Brendan, as he subsequently trained to become a U.S. Navy SEAL. It also sparked a national movement and motivated people outside the military community, like me, to help tell this powerful story.

"Even so close to going back to Iraq, Travis's demeanor was calm. He was doing exactly what he wanted with his life, and instead of complaining about spending the next 12 months in a war-ravaged city that could justifiably be labeled a hell hole, he felt fortunate for the chance to put all the hard work of the last eight years to good use.

As [Travis and his brother-in-law, Dave] listened to one of Travis's favorite iPod playlists, which consisted of everything from Johnny Cash and Elton John to Ben Harper and The Roots, Dave took a sip of his beer and leaned against his car in silence as his visible breath blended with smoke from a small grill to fill the chilly air near the two-man tailgate. Dave knew young Americans were dying in Iraq almost every day, including a soldier named Pfc. Ross McGinnis, who had died the previous weekend in Baghdad. The 19-year-old Knox, Pa., native, who dove on top of a grenade to save the lives of fellow Army soldiers, would later become the fourth U.S. service member to be awarded the Medal of Honor for heroism displayed in Iraq.

Dave was an avid reader, particularly of military-themed books and magazines, and was following the war closely. He knew Travis faced severe risks in Fallujah, particularly in a unit that guided Iraqi soldiers around the city's hostile streets. Though he never mentioned the full scope of his fears to [Travis's sister] Ryan, or for that matter Travis, he was worried about whether he would see his brother-in-law again. In fact, part of him wished he could talk Travis out of leaving, even though he knew it would be an exercise in futility.

'Hey, Trav, if I tripped you right now and you fell and broke your ankle, do you think they'd let you sit this deployment out?' he asked.

Travis chuckled at Dave's joke, but didn't say much in response. A brief moment of slightly awkward silence followed. Suddenly Travis spoke up.

'You know what though, Dave?' Travis said with an unmistakably serious look on his face. 'If I don't go, they're going to send another Marine in my place who doesn't have my training.'

'If not me, then who ... you know what I mean?' he continued. 'It's either me or that other guy who isn't ready, so I'm the one who has to get the job done.'"

"Brothers Forever" will be released on May 13 and is available now for pre-order at brothersforeverbook.com.

COPYRIGHT 2014 CREATORS.COM

Always With Us

Images courtesy: Karen Eggleston

Moments after Karen Eggleston learned that her husband had been killed in Afghanistan, the couple's oldest daughter, Molly, returned from a fun day at preschool.

"She said 'Mommy, what's wrong with you?'" Karen told The Unknown Soldiers. "You look like you're going to cry."

Karen's casualty assistance officer knelt down and told Molly, 4, that her father, U.S. Army Staff Sgt. Brandon Eggleston, wouldn't be coming home from Afghanistan. The terrible news was too much for Karen's little girl to process.

"I said that Daddy was in a car accident, he hit his head, and he's in heaven," Karen painfully recounted. "And she said, 'but that means I'll never see him again.'"

Years before military messengers arrived at her Raeford, N.C., doorstep on April 26, 2012, Karen was drawn to Brandon's outgoing, unwavering personality.

"He was a person that was very determined," she said. "He was always seeking a challenge."

When the young couple began discussing marriage, Brandon told Karen that he was thinking about joining the military. Fearing for his safety, she was "totally against" the idea until Brandon explained his rationale.

"If I'm not willing to fight for this country, I'm not worthy of enjoying its freedoms," he said.

The couple married in 2007. Two years later, Brandon was heading to Afghanistan as a member of the U.S. Army's elite 4th Battalion, 3rd Special Forces Group (Airborne), based out of North Carolina's Fort Bragg. While she called the first deployment "very, very difficult," Karen credited fellow Army wives for helping her young family weather the storm.

"Molly wasn't even one year old when he deployed, so I felt like he was just missing out," she said. "(But) we had very good communication."

Brandon's second overseas combat tour was even more challenging.

"I was pregnant with our second child during that deployment, so I was extra emotional," said Karen, noting that the deployment ended happily with the birth of their youngest daughter, Avery. "He came back early in time for our child to be born."

Just before midnight on Jan. 4, 2012, with their two little girls asleep in the back seat, Karen dropped Brandon off at Fort Bragg for his third combat tour, which the couple knew would be the riskiest deployment of all.

"Everyone knew it was going to be a very, very dangerous place where they were going," she said. "He never really got upset too much before he deployed, but this time, he had a hard time going in."

After hugging his precious daughters and beloved wife, Brandon vanished into the darkness. For months, he would be running perilous combat missions to find high-value targets.

"Daddy's got to go over there and get the bad guys so they don't come over here and hurt you," the soldier told his daughters before he left.

Karen talked to Brandon as often as possible during what tragically wound up being the last four months of his life. After one particularly difficult phone call, during which the soldier said how much he missed home, Karen sat down and wrote him a two-page letter.

"It was just telling him exactly how I felt — how proud I was of him — about how the girls were proud of him," she said.

On April 26, 2012, U.S. Army Staff Sgt. Brandon Eggleston, 29, was killed in Afghanistan's Ghazni province alongside Navy LT Chris Mosko, 28, Army Staff Sgt. Dick Lee Jr., 31, and a military working dog, Fibi. The Pentagon said their vehicle struck an enemy improvised explosive device.

Speaking two years after Brandon left for his final deployment, Karen recalled several poignant moments during the difficult days following his death.

"I met so many people telling me stories," Karen, 30, said. "He just touched so many peoples' lives, and I had no idea."

The day after her father's death, young Molly sat alone in her family's front yard. As relatives tended to her youngest daughter, Karen went outside and asked the 4-year-old how she was coping.

"Mommy, I'm happy," the little girl said, prompting her surprised mother to ask why.

"I'm happy because daddy is in heaven," Molly continued. "He can see everything that we do, and he'll always be with us."

COPYRIGHT 2014 CREATORS.COM

Tom Sileo is a nationally syndicated columnist and author of BROTHERS FOREVER: The Enduring Bond Between a Marine and a Navy SEAL that Transcended Their Ultimate Sacrifice. Written with Col. Tom Manion (Ret.) and published by Da Capo Press, BROTHERS FOREVER will be released in May. To find out more about Tom Sileo, or to read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators website.

A Soldier's Heart

Images courtesy: Volker family

Ever since he was a boy growing up in West Texas, U.S. Army Spc. Robert "RJ" Volker wore his heart on his sleeve.

"He had a smile that was true from his heart," the soldier's mother, Melissa Volker, told The Unknown Soldiers via email. "You could tell how he felt by the size of his smile."

From a young age, it was obvious that RJ would one day put his heart and soul into serving his country.

"As far back as I can remember, he wanted to be an 'Army man,'" Melissa wrote. "He was doing that Army crawl thing (at) about 2 years old."

Throughout his freshman year in high school, RJ hounded his mom to sign a permission form that would grant him access to Army recruiters.

"I was afraid to sign because I thought if I did, the Army would take him as soon as he graduated," Melissa wrote about RJ, who would turn 18 in August 2003.

One Tuesday morning before school, Melissa gave in and signed the form. The date was Sept. 11, 2001. Hours later, RJ watched in silence as the Twin Towers fell and the Pentagon burned.

"He never said any more about joining up after that day," she wrote. "He got scared ... or so I thought."

In September 2005, RJ's younger brother, Johnathan, joined the U.S. Navy. As the fourth anniversary of the 9/11 attacks approached, RJ told his parents that he, too, would be volunteering to serve.

"Why now?" Melissa asked.

RJ explained that after 9/11, he felt an obligation to stay home and protect his family during uncertain times.

"I needed to stay," he said. "But if you're strong enough for (Johnathan) to go, I know I can go, and you and Dad will be fine."

Two weeks later, RJ left for boot camp. During the next year, he would get married and accomplish his lifelong dream of becoming a soldier. Then, in October 2006, Spc. Volker deployed to Iraq.

Almost every day, the young soldier would call his wife, Martha — who'd moved in with RJ's parents while he was away — and tell his family how much he loved them.

"As the days went by, I talked to him less and less (because) it was just so hard to think about the 'what ifs'," the soldier's mom wrote.

During one video call, RJ's camera began to shake as lights flickered in the background. When Melissa heard yelling, she realized her son's base was under attack.

"I sat there, glued to the computer, not sure what was happening and fearing the worst," she wrote. "He popped back up from under his table and said 'that was close ... you still with me, (Mom)?"

A few days before Christmas 2006, RJ's wife and mother were going through boxes of decorations when someone knocked on the door. Screams filled the house when they realized that two uniformed soldiers were waiting outside. The family's worst fears had come true.

"An IED exploded under the truck (RJ) was driving," Melissa wrote. "He took the (brunt of) the explosion by turning the truck away from it and saved the other men in his truck."

Specialist RJ Volker, who made the ultimate sacrifice in Baghdad on Dec. 20, 2006, at age 21, was escorted home to Texas and saluted by his 19-year-old brother. Melissa and her husband were in a fog as the heartbreaking scene unfolded.

"You just nod your heard and keep going," she wrote about the days after RJ's death.

After receiving letters from the president and governor, support from organizations like the Patriot Guard Riders and compassion from countless mourners, the fog began to lift.

"To know that our son's death was not in vain — that most of our nation appreciated the life he gave for them — is awesome," Melissa wrote.

Like all of our nation's Gold Star families, Spc. Robert "RJ" Volker's loved ones will never stop grieving. But whenever the past begins to haunt Melissa Volker, she thinks of her son's defining characteristic.

"RJ was just a good-hearted, hard-headed boy who heard a sound not too many people hear ... a call of duty," the soldier's mom wrote. "He had a soldier's heart."

COPYRIGHT 2013 CREATORS.COM

Note: Thank you to Notes With Wings for putting the Volkers and The Unknown Soldiers in touch.

The Brave Ones

Image courtesy: Sgt. Margaret Taylor

This weekly column is about the thousands of brave men and women in uniform who selflessly serve and sacrifice. It's also about their families, who shoulder an immense burden that few outside the military community can comprehend.

I've learned many things while talking to these fine Americans. One is that every single man and woman who volunteers to defend freedom is brave. Another is that when a U.S. service member is killed, whether by hostile fire, an accident or suicide, every family member responds differently.

Kelsey Mills has been through more than most young wives could imagine. On April 10, 2012, her husband, U.S. Army Staff Sgt. Travis Mills, then 25, lost both arms and legs during an enemy improvised explosive attack in Afghanistan.

"I'm happy that my husband is still alive," Kelsey told The Unknown Soldiers less than a month after the explosion. "He's still here."

Every day since, Travis and Kelsey, who are raising a little girl, have inspired us with their dignity and courage. In my mind, it is people like these — not Miley Cyrus — who define what it means to be a true celebrity. I wish more people agreed.

Bob Bagosy, who I met through the Travis Manion Foundation, watched in agony as his son, U.S. Marine Sgt. Tommy Bagosy, drifted toward depression and despair because of traumatic brain injury and post-traumatic stress. At age 25, Tommy, who served in Afghanistan and Iraq, killed himself.

Bob was haunted by the mystery of Tommy's suicide.

Image courtesy: Bagosy family

"I know the who, what, where, when and how," Bob said. "But the 'why' has been eluding me."

Having spent time with Bob, I have seen the fortitude he has displayed while honoring his son's memory by helping other military families that have been forced to cope with tragedy. He and his wife are great parents and truly inspirational people.

Emily Feeks has served in the U.S. Navy and deployed to Afghanistan. She also watched her husband, Special Warfare Operator Petty Officer 1st Class Patrick Feeks, deploy to Afghanistan as a Navy SEAL while she was serving in the Philippines.

Image courtesy: Emily Feeks

On Aug. 16, 2012, Patrick, 28, died in a helicopter crash that killed seven Americans.

"You look around and everyone is happy go-lucky, and you wonder why you can't have that," Emily said less than three months after the crash. "Why does it have to happen to you?"

During a June trip to San Diego, I finally met Emily, along with Karlyn Deveau, who lost her fiance, Special Warfare Operator Petty Officer 2nd Class David Warsen, 27, in the same crash. While tears were shed, both of these young women showed the same brand of tenacity that their loved ones displayed as Navy SEALs. If my daughter grows up to be like Emily and Karlyn, I will be proud.

Thad Forester lost his younger brother, U.S. Air Force Senior Airman Mark Forester, 29, in Afghanistan on Sept. 29, 2010. When we spoke less than three years after Mark died while trying to save his unit's medic, Thad was in a state of proud reflection.

"We all have missions on this earth and some of them are different for each person," Thad said. "One of Mark's was to help defeat terrorism, and he did it."

Image courtesy: Forester family

On Sept. 23, Thad released a book about Mark called "My Brother In Arms," which was written with Matthew Glencoe. I hope everyone who reads this column will also take the time to read the story of this remarkable American hero.

Beth Strickland Funk, who courageously spoke with The Unknown Soldiers for last week's column, is not thinking about anything other than caring for her family and making it through the next day. Her son, U.S. Army Sgt. Joshua "Jay" Strickland, was killed in Afghanistan on Sept. 21.

"We're all going back and forth between the anger and the grieving," Beth said ten days after her son was killed by small arms fire.

When I go to sleep at night, I think of people like Beth Strickland Funk and everyone else mentioned above. They've been through more pain than most of us will in a lifetime.

Our men and women in uniform are incredibly brave. Hopefully, everyone will join me in realizing that their families are, too.

COPYRIGHT 2013 CREATORS.COM

Adapt and Overcome

Images courtesy: Terri Dunn-Campbell

Nearly a decade before Lance Cpl. Kielin Dunn raised his right hand and swore to defend the United States, he knew which uniform he wanted to wear.

"He chose the Marine Corps — that path — when there wasn't a war going on," Lance Cpl. Dunn's mother, Terri Dunn-Campbell, told The Unknown Soldiers. "After 9/11, he maintained that position."

Kielin was an 11-year-old elementary school student when the Twin Towers fell. But rather than change his goal of becoming a Marine, he followed the lead of his mom, who was serving in the U.S. Army, and her husband, who was serving in the U.S. Navy.

"As a military family, we adapt and overcome," Terri said.

Kielin joined the JROTC program at his Chesapeake, Va., high school and began studying the culture of Afghanistan.

"He definitely wanted to serve first, prior to any other endeavors," Kielin's mom said.

As always, Kielin was smiling when he finished boot camp.

"I knew first-hand what would happen if Kielin joined the infantry," Terri said. "I knew there was a great chance that he would (get) his orders and be sent to a war zone, whether it was Afghanistan or Iraq."

Terri asked her son about the possibility of going into harm's way.

"He looked at me at the age of 18 and said, 'Mom, I'm not afraid ... I'm not afraid of dying,'" she recounted.

"Should I die, Mom, just remember this," Kielin continued. "(Remember) that I died with honor."

The young Marine soon deployed to Afghanistan, where he quickly became close with his unit.

"He was their source of energy and entertainment as well," Terri said. "He was a fantastic break-dancer."

While Kielin was smaller than some fellow Marines, he excelled in his daily duties.

"Kielin was the sort of guy that if he was good at something, he didn't gloat," his mom said.

Kielin's unit patrolled Afghanistan's volatile Helmand Province, which sometimes prevented him from calling home. Adding to the challenge for Terri and her two younger children was that her husband deployed to Africa just a week after Kielin left for Afghanistan.

When Kielin called home in February 2010, he hesitated to talk about a recent, very violent encounter with the enemy.

"I know that you're in harm's way, and you know that we all love you and that we are thinking of you," Terri told her son. "Your father is also standing up for America, and we're standing up as a family, as we always have."

Before hanging up, Kielin told his mom he loved her.

"It was a somber conversation," Terri said. "I understood in the tone of his voice that he was concerned ... not for him, but more for me."

A few days later, Terri heard from Kielin again on Facebook.

"It's rough over here," the Marine wrote. "But I've got to stay strong for my boys."

On Feb. 18, 2010, Lance Cpl. Kielin Dunn, 19, was killed while supporting combat operations in southern Afghanistan, according to the Pentagon. Terri would later learn what her son chose to do during his final moments.

"He died fighting next to another Marine who was hit," she said. "He could have retreated, but Kielin kept fighting. He went down defending his fellow Marine."

With her husband traveling home from Africa, it was up to Terri to fly to Dover, Del., and meet her son's flag-draped casket. While Kielin's death was devastating and tragic, Terri was determined to adapt and overcome.

"A mom has a job to do," she said.

When Terri takes her family to Section 60 of Arlington National Cemetery to visit Kielin, she sees the resting place of a courageous young man who sacrificed his life for others.

"He gave," Terri said. "And when I say he gave, I mean that he gave in every sense of the word. "He was selfless."

Every day, Terri Dunn-Campbell is inspired to know that there are others still willing to give.

"It is a choice for anyone to raise their right hand and swear to serve this country and to understand they're doing it in a time of war," she said. "It speaks volumes, and it should to any of us as Americans."

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Here Among Us

Image courtesy: Sgt. Corine Lombardo

"I'm not sure what all the hubbub is all about," New York Army National Guard Sgt. Joshua Young reportedly said after receiving the Bronze Star with Valor on July 19. "It happened a long time ago, and I would do it again."

According to his award citation, Sgt. Young's actions on March 16, 2012, were anything but ordinary. Surrounded by about 50 Taliban fighters after a huge explosion in southern Afghanistan, Young braved enemy gunfire to save the life of his badly wounded platoon sergeant, who lost both legs but ultimately survived the attack.

Young, who is from Perinton, N.Y., is just 26 years old. His modesty represents the most remarkable percentage point of our population: the courageous men and women who volunteer to serve in a dangerous post-9/11 world.

"We're extremely proud of Josh and his accomplishments," the hero soldier's mother, Kim Young, told Sgt. Corine Lombardo. "He never really told us a lot about the incident, so we are learning about his actions today."

U.S. Marine Sgt. Matthew Woodall, now 28, did not have to spend two days dodging bullets and crawling through cornfields in July 2011. Instead of fighting the Taliban on their turf, he could have been home enjoying a summer in Paducah, Ky. He chose to serve.

"I was doing my job; I don't think I did anything different than anyone else would," Woodall, who recently left the Marine Corps, told Sgt. Alfred Lopez.

Image courtesy: Cpl. Benjamin Crilly

Woodall's humility became even more apparent after reading his citation for the Silver Star, which he was awarded on Aug. 2.

"(Then-Corporal) Woodall rushed his squad forward when enemy fire wounded the Marine directly in front of him," the citation reads. "Exposed and under a hail of enemy fire, he laid down suppressive fires and shielded the wounded Marine with his body until a (Navy Hospital) Corpsman arrived."

Even though the citation credits Woodall with defeating an enemy attack, the hero Marine is quick to shift attention elsewhere.

"I know that the citation that was read says my name on it, but I'm just an individual Marine," Woodall told the military reporter. "My squad was just amazing."

On Apr. 23, 2011, U.S. Air Force Staff Sgt. Zachary Kline spent about six hours taking enemy gunfire near Bagram Airfield in Afghanistan while helping rescue two Army pilots involved in a helicopter crash. On July 14, the Albuquerque, N.M., airman received the Silver Star for saving the soldiers' lives.

Image courtesy: Airman 1st Class Christine Griffiths

"It's an honor being recognized for just doing my job," Kline, 33, told Airman 1st Class Christine Griffiths. "I worked with some awesome guys, and (it) was nice being a part of it."

U.S. Navy Petty Officer 1st Class Benny Flores, 30, is from the U.S. territory of Guam. On April 28, 2012, the Navy Hospital Corpsman was in remote southwestern Afghanistan when an improvised explosive device blew up under the vehicle he was riding in.

"With shrapnel wounds to his arms and neck, Hospital Corpsman First Class Flores treated the nearest wounded Marine while he was engaged by enemy small arms fire," Flores' Silver Star citation reads. "He assisted the wounded Marine in maneuvering to a covered position and without hesitation, ran back into the street, exposed to enemy fire, and quickly provided medical assistance to a severely wounded Afghan Uniform Police Officer."

Image courtesy: Petty Officer 3rd Class Monique LaRouche

When Flores received his award on May 3, his thoughts were with the family of a Marine who didn't survive the harrowing attack.

"We lost one guy, Master Sgt. Scott Pruitt, and to this day he's always in my thoughts and prayers," the hero sailor told Cpl. Mark Garcia. "I really wish he were here, maybe not for the ceremony, but just to see his face and him being with his family — his two daughters that he left behind."

I wish some of our nation's so-called celebrities could read the words of Sgt. Joshua Young, Sgt. Matthew Woodall, Staff Sgt. Zachary Kline and Petty Officer 1st Class Benny Flores. Instead of being consumed with their own popularity, their first instinct is to salute others.

You won't find most of America's true celebrities in Hollywood. They're in communities all around us. The next time you see a U.S. service member or veteran, shake their hand and say thanks.

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The Gentle SEAL

Images courtesy: Ursula Ebbert

When Petty Officer 1st Class Kevin Ebbert deployed to Afghanistan in 2012, it wasn't only as a battle-hardened Navy SEAL. It was also as a compassionate U.S. Navy Corpsman who wanted to save as many lives as possible.

"He really didn't talk much about what he was doing over there in terms of being a SEAL," Petty Officer 1st Class Ebbert's wife, Ursula, told The Unknown Soldiers. "He's also a medic, and he was volunteering to work in the clinics on his free time."

Kevin, who planned to leave the Navy and study to become a doctor upon returning from Afghanistan, believed helping injured troops and civilians on the battlefield would eventually help him become a better physician.

"A lot of the calls were 'I got to help with this procedure' or 'I got to help save somebody's legs today,'" Ursula said. "He was really excited."

Ursula first met Kevin in 2002 near their hometown of Arcata, Calif. They got to know each other on a hiking trip arranged by their mothers, who are close friends.

"He's not a big talker, so I did most of the talking, but he's a very good listener," she said. "After four days of backpacking, we got very close."

Kevin, who studied music before eventually becoming a Navy SEAL, proposed to Ursula while away on a previous combat deployment.

"I got an email from Afghanistan with a PowerPoint presentation of different ring options," Ursula said. "We knew (our relationship) was serious, but I think he just wanted to see if I could handle a deployment."

After getting married on New Year's Eve, the new bride rapidly adjusted to life as a military spouse when Kevin left for Afghanistan on Sept. 25, 2012, the day after Ursula's birthday.

"On the second deployment, we were thinking about what comes after the Navy, which made it a lot harder," Ursula, 31, said. "It made it a lot harder to say goodbye this time."

On Thanksgiving, Kevin called his wife from Afghanistan to share some exciting news.

"He had just found out that it was likely that he was going to be back in mid-January (2013)," Ursula said. "It was the first I heard that he was going to be back in six weeks."

The next day, Kevin and his fellow SEALs left for a perilous combat mission.

"They were hiking into hostile territory," Ursula said. "The terrain they were moving through was a lot rougher than anticipated."

A decade after Kevin and Ursula started falling in love while hiking the California mountains, four Navy sailors rang the doorbell of their Virginia Beach home.

"They said 'we have some bad news ... Kevin was killed last night,'" she said.

According to the Pentagon, Petty Officer 1st Class Kevin Ebbert, 32, was killed on Nov. 24, 2012, while supporting stability operations in Afghanistan's Uruzgan Province. The fallen SEAL's wife said her husband was shot by the enemy during an ambush.

"These things happen," the grieving widow said. "You just think it won't happen to you."

As soon as news of the SEAL's death began to spread, mourners from Virginia to California surrounded Ursula and all of Kevin's loved ones with support.

"Gratitude is the number one thing that really struck me," Ursula said. "Kevin was a really quiet person and wasn't easy to get to know in that respect, but the chapel was standing room only."

For Ursula, seeing how many lives her husband touched turned initial feelings of anger into an overwhelming sense of pride.

"I was so proud of everything he'd done," she said. "I just wish he had more time."

During the funeral services, one college buddy summed up Kevin's legacy in a way that moved his wife.

"A gentle soul who was tough as nails," the friend said.

As Ursula Ebbert puts her life back together after an unimaginable tragedy, she is inspired by what Kevin left behind.

"He didn't lecture (people), he just lived his life according to his ideals," Ursula said. "That's an amazing legacy to leave, to push others to want to be better."

Hopefully, the legacy of fallen heroes like Petty Officer 1st Class Kevin Ebbert will push each of us toward being better, too.

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Don't Forget

Image courtesy: Spc. Robert Porter

During a June trip to San Diego, I met the wife of a U.S. Navy bomb specialist who was recently killed while serving in Afghanistan. Still devastated and overwhelmed by grief, she shared a concern that is paramount, both now and in the difficult years to come.

"I just want to make sure people don't forget," she said.

The grieving widow's poignant words are similar to what I've heard from many Gold Star spouses, parents and siblings during almost three years of authoring this weekly column. While their loss hurts in a way very few can understand, they are comforted by knowing people remember their loved ones.

This is hard to write and probably even harder for many families of fallen service members to read. In 2013, most Americans are not only forgetting the sacrifices of the brave men and women who preserve their freedom; they're not noticing in the first place.

As of the month's 26th day, 15 U.S. troops had been killed in Afghanistan in June 2013. The fallen heroes are from small towns like Evans Mills, N.Y., Moseley, Va., and Panama, Okla., and large cities like Houston, Phoenix and Sacramento.

Aside from honorable ceremonies in their hometowns and on various military bases, where was the national outpouring for these fallen warriors and their families? Where were the candlelight vigils, celebrity-filled telethons and emotional speeches by national leaders on both sides of the political aisle?

Maybe some Americans were too busy at the beach, at the movies or watching the NBA and Stanley Cup Finals. Maybe some politicians on Capitol Hill, in particular, were too busy enjoying their annual Memorial Day Recess to remember what the holiday actually means.

I used to blame the media for a disturbing, dishonorable national trend. After all, the press has fostered a culture in which names of sex-tape performers are more recognizable to most than names like Sgt. Dakota Meyer, Sgt. 1st Class Leroy Petry, and Staff Sgt. Clinton Romesha, the most recent Afghanistan war heroes to receive the Medal of Honor.

In truth, we have nobody to blame but ourselves. Even after countless polls showing the national media is one of America's least respected, most mistrusted institutions, more journalists would report on the sacrifices on U.S. troops and their families if readers, viewers and web users pressured them to do so.

On June 18, 2013, terrorists attacked Bagram Airfield in Afghanistan with mortar fire. According to the Pentagon, four U.S. Army soldiers — Sgt. Justin Johnson, 25, of Hobe Sound, Fla., Spc. Ember Alt, 21, of Beech Island, S.C., Spc. Robert Ellis, 21, of Kennewick, Wash., and Spc. William Moody, 30, of Burleson, Texas — were killed in the attack.

Image courtesy: U.S. Air Force/Greg Davis

I first heard about the battle at Bagram while watching CNN at San Antonio International Airport. Many national media outlets did report news of the attack, even if some didn't subsequently report the names of the American heroes killed. After all, there were other stories to follow, like the name of Kanye West and Kim Kardashian's baby.

The media is an easy target. The much more difficult one to identify is the one staring at each of us in the mirror.

We are Americans. Thousands of good men and women have died and suffered physical and emotional trauma to give us the privilege of uttering those three words. What being an American will mean, long after the war in Afghanistan ends, is up to us.

The name of the fallen U.S. Navy hero whose wife I was honored to meet is Lt. Chris Mosko. A 28-year-old explosive ordnance disposal platoon commander, Lt. Mosko was born in Massachusetts before living different parts of his life in Connecticut, Delaware, Wisconsin, Pennsylvania, Florida and California.

During his years of military service, Chris disabled numerous enemy improvised explosive devices (IEDs) on post-9/11 battlefields. The elimination of these bombs saved countless lives, including those of innocent children. Chris was killed by an IED in Afghanistan on Apr. 26, 2012.

Will we remember Chris and his fallen brothers and sisters? Will we salute their honorable, voluntary service by overcoming our collective discomfort about discussing the sacrifices being made by the tiny percentage of the population that fights our nation's wars?

Hopefully, we will remember Amanda Mosko's words: "Don't forget."

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Image courtesy: Mosko family

The Rescuers

Images courtesy: Char Fontan Westfall

Shortly after word reached military commanders that four U.S. Navy SEALs were engulfed in a chaotic Afghanistan firefight, Chief Petty Officer (SEAL) Jacques Fontan boarded a helicopter to aid in their rescue.

"I was always worried about him and always praying for him," Chief Petty Officer Fontan's wife, Char, told The Unknown Soldiers. "But I never had any doubt that he was coming home."

In May 1996, nine years before he sprung to action during Operation Red Wings, Jacques was a Navy sailor stationed in Jacksonville, Fla., when he met Char, who was working as a lifeguard at several pools on base.

"He was a rescue swimmer instructor," Char said. "We shared the same pools."

Char and Jacques were instantly drawn to each other.

"We just hit it off ... we immediately clicked," she said. "We had a good time together and enjoyed a lot of the same activities."

In 1998, Jacques was about to leave the Navy when he was given a shot at Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL (BUD/S) training. After six painstaking, rigorous months at BUD/S, Jacques earned his Navy SEAL trident and quickly proposed to Char. They were married in 2000.

Everything changed for the Fontans when 9/11 jolted the entire military community. From the beginning, it was clear to Char that Navy SEALs would play a key role in hunting down the terrorists responsible for attacking America.

"I went from having a happy-go-lucky life and living in a bubble to realizing that (Jacques) was going to be much more involved," she said. "I think it just became much more real what his job was and the danger he was going to be in."

By 2003, Jacques was leaving for missions so secret that he often couldn't tell his wife which countries he'd be fighting in.

"He told me we weren't going to speak for a three month period," Char said. "To this day, I still don't know where they were."

In April 2005, Jacques was permitted to tell his wife that he was leaving for Afghanistan. It was supposed to be his final combat deployment after almost seven years as a Navy SEAL.

"We were going to start a family and enjoy some downtime," Char said of their plans upon Jacques' return.

Less than 48 hours before the June 28, 2005, rescue mission Jacques didn't know was on the horizon, Char ended a phone call with her husband as she always did.

"Be careful," she said.

"We're just flying around in helicopters," Jacques, shielding his wife from worry, said. "It's no big deal."

After a day tutoring a child with autism in Virginia Beach, where Jacques was stationed, Char was at a pizza parlor with the boy and his brother when she saw a troubling news report.

"I saw something on TV about a helicopter crash, and I remember saying a prayer right there for those families," she said. "Then I got a call from one of the (Navy SEAL) wives, and from that point on, I just had a really bad feeling thinking about what I saw on the TV."

Soon after, Char was informed that her husband, Chief Petty Officer Jacques Fontan, 36, was killed when a rocket-propelled grenade struck his helicopter. Seven fellow Navy SEALs and eight Army special operations soldiers died in the attack.

Of the four SEAL heroes fighting on the ground, three were killed and one survived. As the U.S. Navy summary of action notes, June 28, 2005, at that point, "was the single largest loss of life for Naval Special Warfare since World War II."

Eight years later, with bestselling books and a forthcoming major motion picture now telling the Operation Red Wings story, Char Fontan Westfall is remarried and raising children. To this day, when a Navy SEAL is killed in battle, Char springs to action to comfort their loved ones.

"It's my way to thank God and also make Jacques proud and also keep his memory alive," she said.

From rescue swimmer instructor and lifeguard to Navy SEAL hero and Navy SEAL widow, one American couple managed to impact countless lives.

"People say, 'do you think he would have still gone if he knew he wasn't coming back?'" Char said. "And I say he would have."

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Hot Dogs and Hamburgers

What does Memorial Day mean to you?

For some, it's about a rare weekday off to relax, spend time with family and friends, and perhaps grill some hot dogs and hamburgers. Pools are back open, baseball is on TV, and summer blockbusters have started hitting movie screens.

Of course, there is nothing wrong with enjoying a national holiday. But no matter how difficult or unpleasant, we must also remember the sacrifices that give us the freedom of enjoyment, especially in the aftermath of another terrorist attack on U.S. soil.

Duane Wittman lost his son, U.S. Army Sgt. Aaron Wittman, 28, earlier this year in Afghanistan. We exchanged emails a few days ago.

"I can't begin to explain the emotions that Carol and I experience every day," Aaron's dad wrote. "The grief is enormous!"

As the Taliban launches its annual spring offensive, thousands of U.S. troops are in harm's way. On May 4, five U.S. soldiers were killed by an improvised explosive device planted by terrorists in Maiwand, Afghanistan.

Image courtesy: U.S. Air Force/Roland Balik

After being flown to Dover, Del., five flag-draped caskets arrived in American towns and cities from Meridian, N.Y. to Meridian, Idaho. The fallen heroes were brought home with honor and saluted by their families, friends and neighbors.

U.S. Army Spc. Kevin Cardoza, 19, was the youngest soldier killed in the attack. Staff Sgt. Francis Phillips IV, 28, was the oldest. The other three soldiers — Spc. Thomas Murach, Spc. Brandon Prescott, and 1st Lt. Brandon Landrum — were 22, 24 and 26, respectively.

Less than two weeks after her son's death, Mary Murach wrote to his fellow soldiers still serving in Afghanistan on Facebook.

"Thank you so very much for your service to our country," she wrote. "Thank you for the sacrifices that you and your families make."

Even in their darkest, most difficult hours, the first instinct of America's Gold Star moms, dads, wives, husbands, brothers and sisters is often to thank others. While she will spend Memorial Day dealing with unimaginable pain, Spc. Murach's mother, like her son, sets a selfless example that every American should follow.

No matter what's going on in our lives, good or bad, we should always show appreciation to our men and women in uniform, veterans, fallen heroes and their families. While about one percent of our country volunteers to serve, 100 percent should be saying "thank you."

While speaking earlier this year with the mother of fallen U.S. Marine Lance Cpl. Edward Dycus, 22, she said her son was shot in the back of the head by an Afghan soldier who turned against the U.S. forces trying to help him.

"It's hard to talk about," Carol Dycus said. "It's hard."

Carol deals with grief that very few of us can comprehend. She also makes an important point.

It's hard to talk about the horrors of war and the price that so many military families have paid during almost 12 years of constant conflict. Explaining the price of freedom to our children is even more complicated.

But more than any other holiday, Memorial Day is a springboard for that discussion. Stated simply, every American child should grow up learning about our country's fallen heroes and what they were willing to sacrifice.

Just weeks before he was killed in Afghanistan, U.S. Army Spc. Douglas Green, 23, wrote a letter to his loved ones.

"I will always love and cherish all the time I was given on this earth and am thankful for this life and everyone in it," the soldier wrote.

Memorial Day is about being thankful. It's about being grateful not only for a day off work and a chance to grill hot dogs and hamburgers with family and friends, but for the opportunity to live in a nation that brave men and women are willing to step forward and protect.

To thousands of families who've lost loved ones to war, Memorial Day is one of the most meaningful dates on the calendar. It's the one day of the year that the nation officially pauses to remember the men and women who've sacrificed their futures for America's tomorrow.

What does Memorial Day mean to you?

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Image courtesy: Erin Kirk-Cuomo

Daddy Fly

Images courtesy: Budrejko family

While recently visiting with his aunt, a little boy pointed to the sky as two helicopters flew over his family's Temecula, Calif., home.

"Daddy fly," the two-year-old child said.

The little boy is Andrew Budrejko. His father, Lt. Col. Thomas Budrejko, was one of seven Marines killed on Feb. 22 when two helicopters crashed during a training exercise near Yuma, Ariz.

"He is so young and we all want to make sure he doesn't forget Tom," the fallen Marine's sister, Navy Reserve LT Catherine Alexander, wrote in an email to The Unknown Soldiers. "Andrew was the most important thing in Tom's life and I want to make sure he always knows that."

During 15 years of distinguished service, Lt. Col. Budrejko served in Afghanistan, Kosovo, and three times in Iraq. The 37-year-old AH-1W Cobra attack helicopter pilot was preparing for another deployment to Afghanistan when he was tragically killed on the home front.

"(The) first thing I thought was that it had to be a mistake," his sister wrote. "Tom was one of the best Cobra pilots in the Marine Corps, as his fellow Marines have told us so many times, so how could this happen to him?"

At age 13, after winning a history competition in his hometown of Montville, Conn., and later participating in a national contest, the future pilot decided he wanted to make some history of his own.

"Mom, I'm going to be a Marine," young Tom said.

Budrejko attended the United States Naval Academy, which inspired his little sister to later come to Annapolis and follow in his footsteps.

"I looked up to Tom as long as I can remember and always (tried) to emulate him in everything I did," LT Alexander wrote.

Despite earning several medals for his accomplishments in Afghanistan, Iraq, and Kosovo, the decorated Marine rarely spoke about his heroism in combat.

"He spoke of the huge camel spiders and the dust storms that got caught up in their computers, but never spoke much about his missions," his sister explained.

Alexander breathed a sigh of relief whenever her brother came home from a dangerous combat mission.

"When he was gone on deployment, it was always in my mind that he might not make it home," she explained. "But I never worried about him while he was stateside."

Even as her brother's Memorial Service got underway at California's Camp Pendleton, the crushing loss still didn't feel quite real to the youngest of Tom's three siblings.

"He was so accomplished and in my eyes, invincible," Alexander said.

But as Marines spoke one-by-one about the selflessness of her brother during the decade and a half he devoted to our country, confusion and despair turned to acceptance and appreciation.

"I always knew how great he was, but to hear it from so many people meant so much to our family," she said. "This is where we learned about so many accomplishments that Tom had never bragged about to us."

While adjusting to life without her brother is painful, Alexander, as a member of the military herself, is also grieving for the other six families to lose a loved one in the accident.

"We continue to pray for these families and for the squadron that lost so many good men," Alexander wrote.

Many of Budrejko's fellow Marines are now deployed overseas.

"My father stays in contact with the squadron and sends packages from time to time to support them on their deployment," she added.

The training accident, which is still under investigation, has devastated the Marine's wife, Dianna. Yet to honor her husband's memory, she is committed to carrying on his legacy through their only son.

"She is trying to make sure she stays strong for Andrew and that Andrew remembers his daddy and knows he was a hero," the fallen Marine's sister explained.

Lt. Col. Thomas Budrejko was a man of strong faith. Today, as his little boy points to heaven, it is clear that his daddy is still in flight, albeit a little higher above the clouds.

"He really did live his entire 37 years and didn't waste one minute," LT Catherine Alexander wrote. "He truly was and is the best person I know."

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