Bigger Than Life

Images courtesy: John Horrigan

As twin brothers, Robert and John Horrigan did everything together. Whether it was hunting and fishing as boys or joining the U.S. Army as adults, their bond was one that could never be broken.

"The closest person to me on the face of the earth was my twin brother," John, 49, said.

From an early age, Master Sgt. Robert Horrigan displayed qualities that would lead to him becoming one of America's most respected battlefield warriors.

"He would give you the shirt off his back," the soldier's twin said. "Robert would do anything for anybody ... if he had a dollar in his pocket and you needed it, he'd give it to you."

Dollars were sometimes hard to come by as the Horrigan family endured financial struggles during parts of Robert and John's boyhood.

"You earn what you've got, and my father, my mom ... all of us were like that," John said. "It takes hard work and dedication to get where you are, and Robert was the same way."

In 1984, the Horrigan twins joined the U.S. Army. The brothers would eventually end up in the same Ranger platoon, where they served under Gen. Stanley McChrystal, the future commander of all U.S. forces in Afghanistan.

"It was phenomenal being in the Army together with my brother," John said.

Even though John had long since retired from military service by Sept. 11, 2001, he could see the impact the terrorist attacks had on his brother, who had earned a coveted spot on the Army's elite Delta Force.

"I know it affected him a lot, especially with the unit he was with," the soldier's brother said. "He went down and got the U.S. flag tattooed on his left (pectoral muscle)."

By December 2001, Robert was hunting Osama bin Laden in what would become one of the most important chapters of the entire U.S.-led war on terrorism.

"Robert was in Tora Bora," John said. "Robert told me he was running through a field not far from (Taliban leader) Mullah Omar's house."

In the years to come, Robert was part of many historic battles. His astounding bravery and heroism has been chronicled in several books, and quickly became legendary in military circles.

"Robert saw Gen. McChrystal about 15 years after we were in Ranger battalion, and Stanley remembered," John recalled. "For someone to remember your name 15 years later is pretty incredible."

Still, the burdens placed on Robert's shoulders were almost superhuman in nature.

"Robert went to Afghanistan three times and went to Iraq five times," his twin said.

Having served in the military himself, John knew that his brother was frequently in life or death situations. He remembers one particular conversation they had about preparing for the worst.

"If I get killed, you're just going to have to get over it," Robert told his twin.

"It's easier said than done," John replied.

By 2005, John was a firefighter in Austin, Texas, while Robert, who was married with one daughter, was starting to look beyond his 19-year military career.

"He wanted to get out and he wanted to make knives," John said. "He enjoyed the craft of it."

Before he retired from the Army, Robert volunteered for one last deployment with his Delta Force brothers.

"If you're going, I'm going with you," the master sergeant told his commanding officer.

As Robert fought insurgents in Iraq and John fought fires in Austin, the Horrigan twins kept in close touch via email. But one summer day, their frequent communication suddenly ceased.

On June 17, 2005, Master Sgt. Robert Horrigan, 40, was killed while raiding a suspected enemy safe house in al-Qaim, Iraq. Master Sgt. Michael McNulty, 36, who was also killed in the fierce battle, also left behind a twin brother.

"I loved my brother so much that I wouldn't want him to experience the pain I'm going through," John said. "Losing him was probably the hardest thing I've ever done in my life."

John Horrigan, who makes knives while he's not fighting fires, is proud of his twin brother's three Bronze Star medals. But to this day, he admires Robert's mettle most.

"Robert was bigger than life," he said. "He is and will always be my hero."

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.

Their Destiny

Images courtesy: Sgt. April Trent

A heavy snowstorm blanketed much of eastern Afghanistan on Dec. 13, 2012. While conditions were miserable, Sgt. April Trent and her South Carolina Army National Guard unit tried to make the best of it.

"We had a huge snowball fight," Sgt. Trent told The Unknown Soldiers. "We were having so much fun ... more fun than you'd think you could ever have in a combat zone."

For April, it was a welcome break from missing her two children and worrying about her husband, U.S. Army Sgt. 1st Class Nelson Trent, who was serving to her south in Kandahar. Since November, the husband and wife were both deployed to Afghanistan.

That night on the frigid Forward Operating Base, April awoke to someone banging on her door. It was her commanding officer.

As Sgt. Trent put down her weapon and followed her superior to his office, she wondered if life was about to change. Since the first of her husband's two Iraq deployments began in 2003, Nelson believed that his military career could only end one way.

"He would tell me 'it is my destiny to die in war,'" April said.

Since 1999, when Nelson and April met while stationed at Georgia's Fort Gordon, she admired the Texas soldier's sense of humor.

"(Nelson) was just funny ... all the time," she said. "There was never a dull moment when he was around."

Nelson and April got married on Nov. 21, 2000. On Mar. 19, 2003 — the day U.S. forces invaded Iraq — April found out she was pregnant with the couple's first child. Her husband deployed the next day.

"He was on the phone with me when my son was born and got to hear his first cry," April said. "During his second deployment in '05-'06, he got to come home for his son's 2nd birthday."

April took a break in service to care for their son and later gave birth to a daughter. But even while sacrificing as a military spouse, April decided it was time to resume her career in uniform.

Before the Texas couple knew it, both April and Trent faced deployments to Afghanistan. With two Iraq tours under his belt, young children at home, and a wife headed overseas, Nelson was in agony.

"He said 'you know it's my destiny,'" April recalled. "And I said 'I'll see you when we get back.'"

When April stepped inside her commander's office in the early morning hours of Dec. 14, 2012, her heart sank when she saw an Army Chaplain.

"We regret to inform you that your husband, Nelson Trent, has been killed in action ... " April's commander began. Those words are the last she remembers from that terrible night.

After several agonizing days on her snowed-in base, April was flown out of Afghanistan. She arrived in Germany just in time to meet her husband's flag-draped casket.

"I was able to fly home with Nelson," she said.

April would soon learn that her 37-year-old husband was killed in a bombing carried out by terrorists near a military base that was just visited by then-Defense Secretary Leon Panetta.

"You can't be scared," April said Nelson told his fellow soldiers just hours before his death. "You have to put your faith in God."

Sergeant 1st Class Nelson Trent was buried at Arlington National Cemetery on Jan. 8. Just ten days later, his wife was back in Afghanistan. But as her children struggled to understand their father's death, especially with their mom still in harm's way, the Army let April return to South Carolina, where she and her kids would eventually move.

On Valentine's Day 2013 — April's 32nd birthday — the tearful soldier surprised her children at school.

"It was like winning the lottery," she said. "It felt so good to feel my kids' arms around my neck."

As they grow up, the Trent children will always know that their father was an American hero.

"Everyone has their calling — whatever it is they're supposed to do — and Nelson was supposed to be a soldier," April said. "He died doing what he loved."

Shortly before our phone call concluded, Sgt. April Trent, who was shopping for groceries, paused to thank a passing soldier for his service. Hopefully, both of April's kids already know that their remarkable mother is an American hero, too.

COPYRIGHT 2013 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 2014. To find out more about Tom Sileo, or to read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate website.

The Man He Became

Images courtesy: Funcheon family

Before Alex Funcheon became a soldier, he was a high school dropout.

"He was a handful," Alex's father, Bob Funcheon, told The Unknown Soldiers. "He got involved with drugs ... it messed him up."

After quitting school, Alex, who grew up in Wichita, Kan., quickly found himself broke and in trouble with the law. That's when he turned to a lifelong source of inspiration.

"He was always interested in the Army ever since he was a little boy," Alex's mother, Karen Funcheon, said. "His grandfather served in World War II ... he landed at Normandy."

Alex "didn't enlist because of 9/11," according to his dad, but because he recognized that when it came to turning his life around, time was running out.

"He wanted to earn his spurs," Bob said. "He wanted to live up to the expectations of a professional soldier."

After initially struggling with the rigors of boot camp, Alex surprised his parents by earning the reputation of a serious young warrior, rather than the irresponsible partier of his youth.

"It just showed that he was really starting to figure things out," Alex's dad said. "(The military) allowed him to start becoming the man he was meant to be."

On the eve of the military's troop surge in Iraq, U.S. Army Sgt. Alex Funcheon spent a night with his parents before deploying in the fall of 2006.

"I'm not scared of dying," Alex told his dad. "I'm scared of letting my friends down."

Alex was always extremely popular.

"He was very loyal ... he would never 'rat' on anyone," his mom said. "Everybody just loved him."

"He always took care of his friends, and that carried over to the military," Alex's dad added.

As a soldier, Sgt. Funcheon made sure to keep in touch with his parents, who worried every day about his physical safety and emotional well-being. Their fears escalated around the 2006 holiday season, when Alex didn't contact them for almost three weeks.

"Then we found out that there was a Humvee that had blown up in his area, and he was part of the detail that was there to clean up after it," Bob said. "I can only imagine how that affected him."

When it became clear to Bob and Karen that their only son was experiencing some of war's most visceral horrors, they worried he would return to Kansas with wounds, including the kind nobody can see.

"The more I learned about (post-traumatic stress), the more I realized that he probably would have come home with that," Alex's dad said. "Even though I knew he could die, I never really expected that."

Bob was out playing golf on April 29, 2007, when his wife had an encounter that every military mother was dreading during that violent spring of war in Afghanistan and Iraq.

"I heard this big old knock on the door," Karen said. "I turned the corner, saw the window and saw the two uniformed men standing there.

According to the Pentagon, Sgt. Alex Funcheon, 21, was killed when an explosion tore through his vehicle in Baghdad. Two fellow Americans died at Alex's side, along with an Iraqi interpreter. The Funcheons later learned that one U.S. soldier survived the attack.

"My initial response was disbelief," said Bob, who will always remember his wife's frantic phone call.

For Bob and Karen Funcheon, as well as their surviving daughter, the last six and a half years have been filled with surreal moments, including a funeral attended by over 1,000 people and an Air Force One meeting with President George W. Bush. They've also been haunted by painful dreams of what could have been.

"(Alex) wanted to get married; he wanted to have children," the fallen hero's mom said. "He wanted to have grandchildren."

"He started living up to his abilities," said Bob Funcheon as his voice cracked with emotion. "The toughest part for me is that I'll never meet that man he had become."

As politicians insist that America's post-9/11 conflict is "winding down," it's easy to set aside the sacrifices made in Iraq and Afghanistan. The words of a grieving family remind us to never forget.

"He wasn't a number," Karen Funcheon said. "He was our only son."

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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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Love on the Battlefield

Images courtesy: Master Sgt. Jennifer Loredo

As soon as Master Sgt. Jennifer Loredo went into labor, she wondered if her husband, Staff Sgt. Eddie Loredo, would make it to the hospital on time.

"He was on his way home from Iraq for two weeks of leave," Master Sgt. Loredo told The Unknown Soldiers. "So I basically wound up having to go to the hospital and start labor knowing he was on the airplane from Iraq."

Moments later, Staff Sgt. Loredo ran into the hospital room to witness his wife giving birth to their son.

"He literally made it just in time," Jennifer said. "That was a pretty special time."

Jennifer was introduced to Eddie by a mutual friend in 2004, while both U.S. Army soldiers were stationed in Vicenza, Italy. They quickly fell in love.

"He deployed (to Afghanistan) a month later, but we kept in touch that entire time he was gone," she said. "We wrote love letters."

Immediately after returning, Eddie told Jennifer he wanted to marry her. They tied the knot just before returning to the United States and reporting for duty at North Carolina's Fort Bragg.

Two weeks after the birth of his son, Eddie returned to Iraq for another nine months. Then, in December 2009, the soldier left for Afghanistan. This combat deployment would be much different than his previous three, however, because his wife was headed to the war zone, too.

"It was my first deployment," she said. "At times it was overwhelming, but I had a great support system of family and friends who helped me out with my kids and were always there for me."

Jennifer left their son and her 12-year-old daughter from a previous relationship with relatives when she deployed in May 2010. While Eddie fought in the volatile south with an infantry unit, Jennifer was setting up dental facilities for U.S. troops to the north.

"It was very hard to communicate when I got to Afghanistan," she said.

During a rare phone conversation on Father's Day 2010, Jennifer was surprised when Eddie didn't sound like his normally energetic, enthusiastic self.

"The unit had lost several teammates," she said. "My husband was concerned about his soldiers' well-being."

On June 24, 2010, Jennifer's commanding officer brought her to his office and asked her to sit down. After he said two words — "Sergeant Eddie," which is how soldiers referred to her husband — the anguish quickly set in.

"Tears started rolling down his face," Jennifer said.

Eddie, 34, was severely wounded in a roadside bomb attack that had already taken his left leg. A numb, dazed Jennifer immediately boarded a plane to Kandahar, where she would stay by her husband's side.

After a frantic flight, Jennifer rushed into the hospital, much like Eddie on the day their son was born. Upon entering the room, she saw her husband lying quietly and peacefully.

"I ran to him and kissed him right away," she said. "As soon as my lips touched him, I knew he didn't make it."

Hours after collapsing into an Army Chaplain's arms, Jennifer was staring at her husband's flag-draped casket during a long, excruciating journey home from Afghanistan. While their two-year-old son probably wouldn't understand that daddy was gone, Jennifer knew her 12-year-old daughter would be devastated by her stepfather's sudden death.

"I did have a huge fear of telling my children," Jennifer said. "But I got through it."

The military and civilian communities rallied around Jennifer and the kids.

"To this day, I have so much support ... it is so overwhelming and so appreciated," she said. "The bad thing is there are many people in my situation who don't experience such a supportive environment."

Now 37, helping military families is Master Sgt. Jennifer Loredo's new mission. Stationed at the Pentagon, she supervises Master Resilience Training to assist Army families, including those who've lost loved ones, in coping with the enormous challenge of serving in a post-9/11 world.

Image courtesy: U.S. Army

"I wanted to make (Eddie) proud and my kids proud, too," she said.

When Jennifer puts her young son to bed, they talk about why daddy is a hero.

"Mommy is a soldier, daddy was a soldier, and we loved being soldiers," she said. "He gave his life for the well-being and protection of our country."

COPYRIGHT 2013 CREATORS.COM

Faces of War

Three days after the tragic combat death of Pfc. Brian Backus in Afghanistan's Kandahar province, a Facebook tribute page was launched in the 21-year-old warrior's honor.

"I have never met this soldier," the page's unidentified creator wrote on June 21. "But I felt this page was needed for this fallen hero."

More than a thousand people have since "liked" the page, including many of the Harbor Beach, Mich., soldier's relatives, friends and fellow troops. People who hadn't seen Pfc. Backus in years have also been sharing fond memories.

"I used to babysit Brian and his brother," Lisa Bain posted on June 23. "We will always remember him as a smart, energetic boy who insisted on having his back scratched during bedtime."

The heartfelt messages of support are comforting the Backus family during a time of unrelenting grief.

"It means more to us than you can imagine," the fallen hero's grieving mother, Anne Backus, posted on June 22. "To see that our son, Brian, touched so many lives helps ease the pain of loss."

Facebook communities like this one harness the staggering toll of the ongoing Afghanistan and Iraq conflicts. As the national media obsess over next year's presidential election and the Casey Anthony trial, these posts, filled with genuine compassion and raw emotion, remind us that we are still a nation at war.

Another 21-year-old fallen hero, Pfc. Josue Ibarra, made the ultimate sacrifice while conducting combat operations in Afghanistan's Helmand province on June 19. In the dark hours following the tragedy, a Facebook page was quickly, caringly created to celebrate the Marine's life.

"You wanted to protect us; you did protect us," Dennis Ly wrote on June 23. "There's no way we can thank you in person now, but what we can do is live out the rest of our lives to the fullest and to the most positive way we can for Josue.

"He will live on through us, the people he wants to protect," he continued. "We won't let you down."

After coordinating on Facebook, Pfc. Ibarra's community didn't let him down. When the Marine returned to Midland, Texas, in a flag-draped casket, city streets were lined with patriotic supporters.

When an American service member is killed in action, fellow troops are deeply affected. Facebook pages like the one memorializing Pfc. Eric Soufrine, 20, of Woodbridge, Conn., give grieving warriors a place to pour out their hearts.

"As a soldier also raised in Connecticut just returning from Afghanistan, I'd like to thank you for your service, and for making the ultimate sacrifice," Tara LaDore posted on June 17. "Though I've never met you, you are my brother in arms and you will never be forgotten."

Pfc. Soufrine, who died on June 14 in Afghanistan's Farah province when terrorists attacked his unit with an improvised explosive device, had a girlfriend who couldn't wait for him to come home. As war's harshest reality sinks in, the Facebook page is painful but also therapeutic for Paige Woodward.

"We were supposed to have such an amazing life together," she posted on June 16. "But I promise you, I will see you in heaven eventually, and we will pick up where we left off."

Pvt. Ryan Larson, 19, hailed from a tiny Wisconsin village called Friendship. Since his June 15 combat death in Afghanistan's Kandahar province, more than 2,000 people — nearly three times his town's population — have "liked" a Facebook page in tribute to their friend.

"To see men and women, old and young, rich and poor, all races, types, personalities, and positions in our community all as one yesterday for Ryan was so amazing," Izzy Jackson wrote on June 26. "God was shining his light down yesterday to welcome Ryan home."

During past conflicts, Americans could not instantly connect to wars being fought by our friends and neighbors, nor could families of the fallen visit virtual communities filled with memories of their loved ones. In the 21st century, through these interactive, invaluable tribute groups, parents can teach their children about the indelible sacrifices being made in Afghanistan and Iraq.

I never met these four fallen heroes. But today, thanks in part to four remarkable Facebook pages, they are dearly missed.

COPYRIGHT 2011 CREATORS.COM

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