The Game of Their Lives

File image courtesy: Sgt. Ruth Pagan

Dust filled the air as a group of U.S. soldiers kicked off a Jan. 8 pickup football game in southern Afghanistan. But unbeknownst to the deployed American troops, terror was on the horizon. 

Soldiers from the Army's 1st Stryker Brigade Combat Team, including Sgt. Stephen Stoops, 23, were tossing around the football during some downtime on their isolated base when loud noises brought the game to an abrupt halt.

"We didn't know what it was at first," Sgt. Stoops told "The Unknown Soldiers." "It sounded just like a bunch of fireworks going off."

As the Americans quickly realized, a man wearing an Afghan National Army uniform was shooting in their direction. With their weapons out of reach, all the stunned group could do was frantically take cover.

"Run away, get away ... they're shooting at us," Stoops remembers a fellow soldier yelling.

As chaos ensued, Stoops, a married father of one from Port Orchard, Wash., realized two fellow soldiers had been wounded. It then became horribly apparent that their attacker, who hadn't stopped firing, was still out for blood.

"The guy started walking over (the wounded U.S. troops) and shooting them while they were lying on the ground," Stoops said. "Then he saw me yelling at him, and he started (shooting) at me."

Stoops ran to the base's fortified entry control point, where he encountered Sgt. Jacob Lewis, who was handed a weapon by one of the guards. After Stoops managed to find a weapon of his own, he darted back toward the site of their football game, which was now a blood-soaked battlefield.

"Sgt. Lewis and I decided we were going to flank him," Stoops said.

The brave soldiers shot the gunman, who was still trying to get back up when Stoops, who said he was out of ammunition, repeatedly hit the killer with a machine gun and kicked his weapon away. Finally, the attacker lay motionless, not far from the football the soldiers dropped in the dust when they were startled by the first shots.

With the threat eliminated, Lewis and Stoops frantically turned to their wounded comrades. Lewis tended to Spc. John Bolan, while Stoops tried to stop the bleeding of Pfc. Dustin Napier, who was shot in his leg, neck, and chin.

"I couldn't find a pulse," Stoops said. "So I kind of ... just put my hands on his neck to try and keep some sort of pressure on it."

"I was screaming 'I need a medic' the whole time," he added.

Pfc. Napier, 20, of London, Ky., died from his wounds. The tragic loss of the popular, caring soldier, who was enjoying a game of football with his brothers in arms moments before he was shot, devastated the unit.

"It was really hard on the platoon when we were down there," Stoops said, while adding that a memorial service held after the soldiers returned from Afghanistan honored Napier and his family.

The other soldier initially struck by the gunman, Spc. Bolan, survived the attack.

"After the incident, when he was awake ... we got to talk to him a little bit," Stoops said. "He just wanted to come back to us."

A third soldier, who was shot in the leg, also survived. But if not for the gallantry displayed by Lewis and Stoops, more brave Americans would almost certainly have been killed.

When I asked Stoops how he mustered the courage to fight back, his answer was short and simple.

"You just treat everyone like they're your enemy," he said.

According to the Army, Sgt. Jacob Lewis will receive the Silver Star for his selfless actions on Jan. 8. Sgt. Stoops was awarded the Bronze Star with Valor.

"His heroic actions and complete disregard for his own safety during an enemy attack on Forward Operating Base Apache in Afghanistan saved the lives of his fellow soldiers," Stoops' award citation reads.

Millions of Americans play football in backyards, streets and parks. Millions more watch the sport on television.

The harrowing story told by Sgt. Stephen Stoops should remind us that our nation's real heroes aren't the men playing games in football stadiums. They are the men and women still fighting a war in Afghanistan.

COPYRIGHT 2012 CREATORS.COM
                            
Image courtesy: Sgt. Michael Blalack

Acts of Kindness

Image courtesy: Amy Looney

It's been two years since Amy Looney's husband, LT (SEAL) Brendan Looney, 29, was killed in Afghanistan.

"Before I could blink, life as I knew it had vanished," Amy recently wrote in the San Diego Union-Tribune.

It would have been understandable if this grieving Afghanistan war widow, 31, chose to spend the second anniversary of her husband's death in seclusion. Instead, the fallen Navy SEAL's wife woke up at sunrise in San Diego and spent Sept. 21 making others smile.

Amy and a group of friends brought food to a homeless shelter, paid parking meters, bought coffee for strangers at Starbucks and even gave a hungry family a grocery store gift card. They also brought treats to firefighters and police officers to thank them for their service.

After each act was performed, the recipient was given a red, white and blue card decorated with gold stars.
"This random act of kindness has been performed in loving memory of LT (SEAL) Brendan J. Looney, KIA Afghanistan Sept. 21, 2010," it read.

In her moving Sept. 20 column, Amy challenged Americans to perform ten acts of kindness before the end of 2012 in honor of our nation's fallen heroes and their families.

"By uniting during such divided times, we can show the world that America is still the world's brightest light," she wrote.

I decided to join Amy in performing acts of kindness on Friday, Sept. 21, albeit from thousands of miles away in Atlanta.

My first visit was to a nearby barber shop. As a young female stylist started cutting my hair, she asked if I had the day off, prompting me to explain that the offices of the Travis Manion Foundation, where Amy and I both work, were closed to honor a fallen Navy SEAL.

Upon checking out, I gave the stylist a large tip before handing her a memorial card similar to the one Amy was distributing in San Diego. She paused and looked at Brendan's picture.

"This gives me chills," she said.

Next, I drove to a military recruiting station. Since Brendan was a SEAL, I visited the Navy first, and told a female sailor that I wanted to bring lunch to her office. Unfortunately, she had already eaten, but after thanking me for the offer, emphasized how much acts of kindness mean to those serving in uniform.

"A woman came up to me in a parking lot the other day and hugged me," the sailor said. "Those little things make a big difference."

Luckily, the Marines hadn't eaten, and allowed me to bring them a large order of buffalo wings. After handing lunch and Brendan's memorial card to the sergeant in charge, the Marine asked me to deliver a message to the Looney family.

"We may not have known this young man," he said. "But he was our brother."

While ordering lunch for the Marines, I asked the manager of the Buffalo Wild Wings restaurant if I could leave a pint of Guinness for Brendan. He promptly placed the full glass at the center of the bar, along with the memorial card, which included Amy's request for acts of kindness.

When I returned eight hours later, Brendan's beer was sitting beneath two American flags bought by the manager. The bartender said countless patrons had taken pictures of the noteworthy Guinness, resulting in many acts of kindness being performed right there in the restaurant. One patron, for example, bought ice cream for every child in the establishment at dinnertime.

"I had a tough week," the bartender said. "But things like this remind you there are still good people in the world."

I didn't know LT (SEAL) Brendan Looney but can write with certainty that he was a devoted husband, son, brother, friend and warrior. The small acts I performed show just how easily each of us can join together in answering Amy's call for kindness.

Amy Looney's heart will always ache for her husband, his parents, his siblings, and the families of every fallen warrior. But one thing she won't do is quit.

"Hopefully, I will honor him by carrying on his thoughtful mission," Amy wrote. "I love you, Brendan."

America loves you, Amy.

COPYRIGHT 2012 CREATORS.COM

Image courtesy: Amy Looney

The Courage to Lead

Image courtesy: Lance Cpl. Jason Morrison

Paul Sears of Apache Junction, Ariz., lost his son, Marine Lance Cpl. Niall Coti-Sears, in Afghanistan on June 23. A late-night phone conversation I had with the grieving father is haunting in its resonance, as it offered a glimpse into how the war in Afghanistan continues to affect so many.

"It's been a complete blur," Sears said about the painful weeks since his son was killed. "To me, it just happened yesterday."

To many military families, Afghanistan is a war that dictates nearly every moment of their lives. But to many politicians, Afghanistan is a war of a bygone era, launched by a previous president after the attacks of Sept. 11, 2001. With thousands of brave Americans still serving, sacrificing, and suffering in Afghanistan, many of our nation's leaders and would-be leaders are often silent.

While some political strategists justify President Barack Obama, former Massachusetts Gov. Mitt Romney and other candidates declining to frequently address Afghanistan because the war is unpopular in current polls, I ask whether past leaders like Presidents John F. Kennedy or Ronald Reagan would have shied away from frank discussions about such a crucial issue.

I am not a historian or political scientist. But the thought of Kennedy or Reagan putting popularity ahead of patriotism is almost ridiculous.

Yes, anyone can scour the Internet and find quotes from Obama and Romney about Afghanistan. The president made honoring our troops a part of his acceptance speech at the Democratic National Convention in Charlotte, N.C., while his Republican challenger spoke about the military's heroism during a Sept. 11 speech in Reno, Nev.

But anyone paying even casual attention to the 2012 election cycle knows Afghanistan is mostly invisible on the campaign trail. Thousands of U.S. troops are fighting in mountains, deserts and remote forward-operating bases, yet their sacrifices are rarely highlighted by their next commander-in-chief.

Christy Meador of Columbia, S.C., lost her husband, Army National Guard Sgt. John David Meador II, on June 20 in Afghanistan when he was killed alongside two fellow soldiers. He died one week before their daughter's first birthday.

"There are so many people out there, even good friends of mine, saying, 'I can't believe he left you and that baby,' " Christy told "The Unknown Soldiers." "I say, 'You don't understand. It's something he wanted to do.' "

Some volunteer warriors return home with physical and emotional scars. Yet when I met wounded Army Staff Sgt. Travis Mills in May at the Walter Reed National Military Medical Center, the soldier expressed more concern for troops still in harm's way than sorrow over his devastating injuries. His unselfish attitude was remarkable, especially considering that Staff Sgt. Mills lost both his arms and legs in Afghanistan.

"He worries about (his fellow soldiers) constantly," the wounded warrior's wife, Kelsey Mills, said in May. "He makes me message them daily to make sure they're safe."

The stories of heroes like Lance Cpl. Niall Coti-Sears, Sgt. John David Meador II, and Staff Sgt. Travis Mills are being all but ignored during the 2012 presidential campaign, as is the war their brothers and sisters in arms still fight. Yes, there are other issues at home and abroad that also command our attention. But the most solemn duty of any president is the decision to send our military to war.

Last summer, I looked into the eyes of the 44th president during a solemn event and saw a man who cares deeply about the sacrifices of our troops. While I have never seen his election opponent up close, I have no doubt that he is also a man of compassion.

Despite being honorable men, both politicians, along with many Beltway insiders and pundits, lack the courage to make the war in Afghanistan part of our daily national consciousness. Therefore, it is up to us to challenge our national leaders to frequently remind Americans that our nation is still at war.

"Poor is the country that has no heroes, but beggared is the country that having them, forgets," goes an old, anonymous quote. Never have those words been more relevant.

COPYRIGHT 2012 CREATORS.COM

Image courtesy: Sgt. 1st Class Eric Pahon

Blood and Sand

In June 2011, this column introduced you to Sgt. Jason Cartwright and his military working dog, Isaac. Both warriors had just returned from a year of hunting for improvised explosive devices buried beneath Afghanistan's treacherous sand.

"These are real IEDs — real explosives — and everything else is out of the picture," the soldier said.

Today, Sgt. Cartwright and Isaac are once again searching for enemy bombs.

"Isaac and I left Fort Leonard Wood, Mo., on our way back to the sandbox of Afghanistan," Cartwright wrote in a September email to "The Unknown Soldiers."

The Army dog handler, who also served in Iraq, misses his wife and four-year-old son. But Isaac, a black Labrador that saved countless American and Afghans last year, has also become family. Now, the soldier and his best friend are once again risking their lives.

"Thirteen months we were on that battlefield with all the explosions, firefights, and sights of seeing the bloody, wounded, or the open-eyed stares of the dead," Cartwright wrote. "We soon hit reality, to not only put our war faces on but also knowing our country has called on us yet again to serve."

While conventional wisdom inside the United States is that the war in Afghanistan is "winding down," the image of Cartwright and his black Lab scouring the country's unforgiving terrain for bombs that kill and maim troops and civilians, including children, challenges our perception of a conflict entering its 12th year.

"The first thing I have to do is get educated on the Taliban's tactics, as I just know they have changed," Cartwright wrote. "(I'm) hoping at the age of five, (Isaac) will be as proficient and experienced to bring us home one more time."

While confronting a ruthless enemy, Cartwright admits to also battling the scars of his first deployment, which included finding bombs that terrorists intentionally buried near schools and hospitals.

"The flashbacks and memories are strongly on my mind," he wrote. "(I know) the dangers that Isaac and I will soon be facing again."

Cartwright and Isaac serve with the Engineer Canine Company of the Army's 5th Engineer Battalion, which has consistently proved itself as one of America's elite defenses against enemy IEDs.

"My wife said, 'I am more at ease knowing that they are sending one of the best teams again,' " Cartwright wrote.

Even though they completed a previous Afghanistan deployment, the Army, which is focused on countering the evolving Taliban threat, made sure the soldier and his dog underwent months of pre-deployment training. Once they arrived in the war zone, the preparations continued.

"Two weeks have gone by of intense training," Cartwright wrote. "We now stand ready to go out and support NATO and coalition forces."

Being separated from your family by thousands of miles for months at a time is almost unimaginable to those of us who haven't served in the military. Afghanistan, in particular, is a desolate place where loneliness can creep up on even the most seasoned warrior.

"Across the airfield through the open desert and dusty air, those unforgettable mountains that I said goodbye to are standing still and bold," the soldier wrote.

Images courtesy: Sgt. Jason Cartwright

Having Isaac by his side is a source of daily comfort.

"I couldn't imagine going back without my dog," Cartwright said before his second deployment. "We have a special rapport and special bond; I know I trust that dog, and that dog trusts me."

Both the soldier and his black Lab survived close encounters with the enemy during their first go-around. This deployment will almost certainly carry the same perils.

"We are going to support the troops on the front lines of the battlefield; to seek and search for the deadliest weapon used against U.S. and NATO force — the IEDs," he wrote.

The willingness of heroes like Sgt. Jason Cartwright to serve in Afghanistan gives his fellow Americans the luxury of worrying about other things. Yet for the foreseeable future, I'll be checking my email every morning, hoping to learn that this soldier, his courageous dog and their fellow troops are safe.

"To a destination unknown, we take off into the dusty air over the mountains of Afghanistan," the soldier wrote. "To be continued."

COPYRIGHT 2012 CREATORS.COM

Stepping Forward

Sometimes, a photo says more than the written word. Thank you to Lt. Benjamin Addison for taking this picture on Sept. 11, 2012, at a Forward Operating Base in Afghanistan. While mourning the victims of the 9/11 terrorist attacks, we salute our troops, veterans, and their families for spending every day of the past eleven years defending our freedom.

Finding Beauty

Image courtesy: Laura Carothers

Before Cpl. Reece Lodder deployed to Afghanistan last fall, he agonized over leaving his beautiful wife behind.

"Preparing to say goodbye to the most important person in your life for seven months ... it hurts," the 22-year-old Marine told "The Unknown Soldiers" in 2011. "It's a struggle."

Today, after risking his life in one of the world's most dangerous places, Cpl. Lodder is home.

"It was a really good deployment," Lodder said Aug. 30 from Marine Corps Base Hawaii. "I'm thankful it's over, but sometimes I miss it."

The fact that anyone would "miss" Afghanistan's Helmand province, especially while stationed in Hawaii, speaks to the selflessness of a young generation that has consistently stepped forward since Sept. 11, 2001. But if you ask Lodder, he was simply doing his job and owes everything to his fellow Marines and his loved ones in the state of Washington.

"I had so much support from my family and church back home," he said. "God got us through this."

While some politicians and media pundits are self-proclaimed experts on the decade-plus Afghanistan conflict, the opinions of Americans like Lodder, as one of a relative handful to serve there, truly matter. From his perspective, America is making progress in Afghanistan because our nation's bravest men and women are still willing to serve and sacrifice.

"It's not a sexy story," the military journalist said. "But the (Afghan) people were very receptive to the work we've done."

Lodder, who jumped between several units while capturing images and filing reports, said a storyline pushed by some in the mainstream media — Afghan civilians universally despising American troops — is simply not accurate.

"They were thankful and kind of in awe of the fact that we were over there to help them and to serve," Lodder said. "In some respects, realistically, they're kind of used to us being there."

Still, tragic violence continues in Afghanistan, including an increase in so-called "insider attacks" against U.S. forces by terrorists wearing Afghan military or police uniforms. While Lodder's heart aches for the families of his fallen brothers and sisters in arms, the Marine believes the cowardly attacks reveal a drastically weakened enemy.

"The insurgents are so desperate ... that's what they're resorting to," Lodder said. "They're so weak because of all the work that we've done to push them out and cripple their insurgency."

Everyone in his unit came home from Afghanistan alive, Lodder said, although three Marines were wounded and awarded Purple Hearts.

"There was still the inherent threat of IEDs (improvised explosive devices) every time we went out," Lodder said. "We were fortunate to come back with all our guys."

While he was eager to confront the remnants of al-Qaeda and the Taliban, Lodder believes his unit saw less action because of brave American troops who served before them in the country where 9/11 was planned. Still, some terrorists remain.

"They're not completely gone," Lodder said. "They're still there ... still hiding ... they're just too nervous to attack us."

While reflecting on seven months that will remain with him for a lifetime, the Marine recalled a bitterly cold, damp evening that marked the fourth straight day out on patrol in southern Afghanistan's rugged terrain. But even amid harsh conditions that would wear down the toughest warrior, Lodder found solace.

Images courtesy: Cpl. Reece Lodder

"I remember seeing the sun go down, and it was the most round, perfect, clear sunset I'd ever seen," he said. "I remember thinking that this was the first time I'd ever seen beauty in Afghanistan."

A few months later, Lodder saw an even more beautiful sight when he stepped back onto American soil. It was his wife, Krissy, running toward him with tears in her eyes and a huge smile on her face.

"We just hugged, and I was home," he said. "It was perfect."

With Afghanistan behind them, Reece and Krissy Lodder are eagerly awaiting the birth of their first child.

"I'm so thankful that I'm here to support her," the Marine said. "My service means a lot to me, but my family and my faith is paramount."

Afghanistan is full of bloodshed, pain and heartbreak. But sometimes, even during the hell of war, there is also beauty.

COPYRIGHT 2012 CREATORS.COM

Thursday Night Bowling League

Images courtesy: Christy Meador

For Christy Meador, Thursday night is bowling night. Not only is the sport a beloved hobby but her favorite Columbia, S.C., bowling alley is also where she met her future husband, Sgt. John David Meador II, known to most as "J.D."

"He also had a nickname of 'Maverick' because my favorite movie is 'Top Gun,'" Sgt. Meador's wife, Christy Meador, told "The Unknown Soldiers." "He looked a lot like Maverick."

After meeting in 2002, Christy and her Tom Cruise look-alike, who was working part-time as a bartender at the bowling alley, fell in love. But no matter where married life took the couple, they never missed league games with friends on Thursday nights.

"We would always bowl," Christy said. "He could bring a smile to everyone."

In October 2010 — the month of J.D. and Christy's birthdays — the ex-bartender stood up on a chair and announced to the entire alley that his wife was pregnant.

"He said, 'my wife just told me we got the best birthday present ever,'" Christy recalled. "He told them I was expecting."

Eight months earlier, J.D. made another huge announcement. After previously serving in the Army, he was re-joining the military as a member of the South Carolina Army National Guard.

"There was no discussion," Christy said. "It was just ... 'I'm going.'"

On June 27, 2011, Elana Meador was born.

"Now I look back, and it was just so meant to be," Christy said while starting to cry. "Because I don't know where I would be today had we not had (Elana)."

When J.D. deployed to Afghanistan, his wife knew being alone with their little girl would be a challenge. But like thousands of military spouses across America, Christy came through for her soldier.

"All I could do was support him," she said.

J.D. came home on leave in April, which gave him the chance to share unforgettable moments with loved ones, including his older daughter. The highlight was finally spending time with baby Elana.

"He got to see her, hold her and talk to her," Christy said.

When the 36-year-old soldier returned to eastern Afghanistan's Khost Province, the first thing he did was look above his bunk. Every month, his wife sent him new sets of footprints to remind J.D. how quickly their little girl was growing.

"He had gotten his Father's Day box," she said. "I already marked it 12 months because Elana's first birthday is (June) 27."

On June 19, the couple saw each other on Skype. Things had gotten "scary" over there, J.D. explained, and he needed Christy's prayers. Their conversation was interrupted by background noise from Elana, which immediately perked the soldier up.

"Go get my baby!" he said.

Before Christy could bring Elana downstairs, J.D. disappeared from the screen after his base lost power. The last text message Christy received from her husband was later that afternoon.

"Please kiss my baby for me," it read.

Christy was at work on June 20 when a strange car approached. As soon as she saw an Army officer's dress blues, she knew J.D. was dead.

"I am so sorry to tell you, but your husband was killed in action," the soldier said as Christy dropped to the floor.

The Pentagon said J.D. was killed when terrorists attacked his unit with small arms fire and an improvised explosive device. First Lt. Ryan Rawl, 30, and Sgt. 1st Class Matthew Thomas, 30, also lost their lives.

Before J.D. left for Afghanistan, his wife asked him to record two audiobooks for his little girl.

"We read them every night," Elana's tearful mom said.

Christy Meador is one of numerous military spouses to lose a loved one during the violent summer of 2012. This column exists to keep the military community's heroism in the spotlight.

"There are so many people out there, even good friends of mine, saying, 'I can't believe he left you and that baby,'" Christy said. "I say, 'You don't understand. It's something he wanted to do.'"

The Thursday night bowling league in Columbia, S.C., will always be missing a star player. But from the mountains of Afghanistan to the hearts of his loving wife and daughters, the selfless legacy of Sgt. John David Meador II rolls on.

COPYRIGHT 2012 CREATORS.COM

The Unexpected

Images courtesy: Laura Monk

When Spc. Austin Monk deployed to Iraq in August 2009, the soldier's wife expected the worst.

"When your loved one deploys to Iraq, you expect them to come home injured ... (physically or emotionally) wounded, or you expect them to come back dead," Laura Monk told "The Unknown Soldiers."

She never thought her 20-year-old husband's combat deployment would end with a shocking diagnosis of leukemia.

"You never expect them to come back with cancer," she said.

Laura met Austin on an early morning bus ride from her native Philadelphia to New York City in December 2007. After initially being too nervous to talk to the "cute soldier" from Texas as the bus made the short trip up Interstate 95, they struck up a conversation.

"Everything else that wound up happening in our lives showed we were meant to meet," Laura said.

Austin and Laura got married in March 2009, shortly after the soldier returned from Korea.

"It was awesome because we got to build our relationship through conversations, learn about each other over the phone and have an emotional connection," Laura said. "We just fell in love."

Less than five months after their wedding, Spc. Monk deployed to Iraq's Al Anbar Province with an 82nd Airborne Division personal security detachment.

"This is what I signed up to do," Austin said to his wife. Austin first complained about a terrible headache during one of the couple's Skype conversations. Then, on Halloween 2009, Austin wrote Laura a MySpace message saying he had a 104-degree fever.

"Don't worry about me," Austin added.

A few weeks later, fellow soldiers found Austin lying on the floor of his barracks. The ordeal that followed, which took the soldier from hospitals in Iraq to Germany, left Laura feeling helpless as she agonized over her husband's condition from thousands of miles away.

"They initially thought he had mono or tuberculosis and that the headache could have been from his wisdom teeth," Austin's wife said.

When Laura was informed her husband was suffering from leukemia, all she wanted was to be by his side.

"I'll be there soon," she said.

After the Army flew Laura to Germany, she would rarely be separated from Austin again, except for one special week.

"He told me to go to Paris," Laura said. "Even though he was stuck in the hospital, he wanted to make it enjoyable for me."

Austin and Laura eventually ended up at a top cancer hospital in Houston. With Austin's cancer in remission after a May 2011 bone marrow transplant, the Monks were preparing to head home to North Carolina, where the soldier was stationed, with a renewed sense of optimism.

"We thought we were good," Laura said. "It was normalcy ... normalcy for us."

Austin collapsed just hours before the couple's flight. A few hours later, the soldier learned his cancer had returned.

"That was the last time he was ever outside a hospital," Laura said.

The Monks eventually returned to North Carolina, where Austin, 22, would spent his last days in a hospice facility. In the early morning hours of Oct. 5, 2011, Laura, who met the love of her life by chance on a bus, told her husband it was time for his next trip.

"It's okay for you to go," she whispered in Austin's ear. "I love you."

Even after three years of pain, Laura feels deeply inspired by the courage displayed by her husband, both as an American soldier and young cancer patient.

"I want him to be remembered as the smiling Austin, the guy who loved the Dallas Cowboys, the guy that no matter what the consequences, signed up and joined the Army," she said.

Spc. Austin Monk will always be with his wife. And due to the wonders of medical technology, Laura still hopes to bear his children.

"He would have been a great dad," she said. "But he'll be looking down on us."

Laura Monk expected the worst when her husband went to Iraq. But even after the unimaginable ordeal that followed, her outlook has changed for the better.

"I have to make the best of it because it's all I've got," she said.

COPYRIGHT 2012 CREATORS.COM

The Chosen Few

Image courtesy: Susan Coti

When Lance Cpl. Niall Coti-Sears decided to join the United States Marine Corps, he was emulating a hero.

"He wanted to follow in his grandfather's footsteps," Lance Cpl. Coti-Sears' mother, Susan Coti, told The Unknown Soldiers.

Niall's grandfather, Col. William Coti (Ret.), served in the Marines for more than 30 years. Before two tours in Vietnam, he fought in the bloody 1950 Battle of Chosin Reservoir — one of the Korean War's defining struggles. The heroes who clashed with Communist Chinese forces for 17 days in freezing conditions are known as "The Chosin Few."

Niall, who was home-schooled by his grandparents for two years, spent many hours learning in their basement, which his parents said resembles a Marine Corps museum. While Col. Coti never told his grandson to join the military, young Niall would often put on old uniforms and pretend he was in combat.

"One time I said, 'Niall, the gun jammed and the enemy is getting close, what are you going to do?'" Col. Coti recalled. "He picked up a grenade and threw it."

One day, Niall decided to become a Marine.

"Poppy, I want to be like you," he said.

When the teenager told his parents, both feared for his safety.

"My initial reaction was that I was completely against it," Niall's father, Paul Sears, said. "Not because of the Marines Corps or the military, but because of the way the world is today."

But when the aspiring Arlington, Va., warrior paid a visit to his father in Baltimore, Paul could see the focus in his son's eyes.

"I was 100 percent behind him," the Marine's father, who now lives in Arizona, said.

Image courtesy: Paul Sears

Still, both parents hoped Niall could avoid Afghanistan or Iraq's front lines.

"We begged him not to choose infantry," Niall's mother said. "We said, you could do anything; why would you want to go to Afghanistan as an infantryman?"

But that's exactly the path Niall, who grew up hearing his grandfather's war stories, chose.

"He was just ... a really fearless guy," Susan said.

"I believe that he needed to be part of something that was a lot larger than he was," Paul said.

Before leaving for Afghanistan, Niall spoke to 4th graders at the Washington, D.C., school where his mom teaches.

"One of the boys asked him if he was afraid," Susan said. "He said no ... he really believed it was something he needed to do."

Niall deployed to southern Afghanistan with the 1st Battalion, 7th Marine Regiment in March. He was in frequent communication with his family until around Father's Day, when he went behind Taliban lines for a dangerous mission.

"That's when I got worried," his father said. "And when his birthday came, I got really worried."

On June 21 — Niall's 23rd birthday — his mother got a box of flowers.

"Just because you're always here for me, mom," Niall's card read.

Two days later, Niall was killed in Afghanistan's Helmand Province. His mom, dad, and grandfather said he stepped on an enemy improvised explosive device.

Commanders informed the Marine's parents that not long before his death, Niall was in a ferocious firefight. Just like the pretend battle in his grandpa's basement, Niall picked up grenades and fearlessly hurled them toward the enemy.

"Everyone who knew Niall knew his greatness," Niall's platoon commander, 2nd Lt. Kenneth Conover, wrote to the family.

Col. Coti is immensely proud of his grandson. But pride doesn't erase the pain he and other members of Niall's family are experiencing.

Image courtesy: U.S. Air Force/Adrian Rowan

"It's been a complete blur," Niall's dad said six weeks after his son was killed. "To me, it just happened yesterday."

"It's hard to believe he's gone," the Marine's mother said.

Niall was laid to rest at Arlington National Cemetery, where he is surrounded by heroes of the battles in which his grandfather once fought.

"He was always looking out for other people's welfare," Col. Coti said.

While delivering Niall's eulogy, Paul read a Buddhist quotation that inspired his son.

"The greatest achievement is selflessness," it begins.

Like Col. William Coti in Korea and Vietnam, Lance Cpl. Niall Coti-Sears selflessly stepped forward to serve in Afghanistan. In choosing to his risk his life for others, a proud grandson didn't just emulate a hero. He became one.

COPYRIGHT 2012 CREATORS.COM

Image courtesy: Cpl. Mark Garcia

Into the Light

Image courtesy: Jon White Photography

As Amy Looney dove into cold, choppy English Channel waters in the dark of night, the faces of three people filled her thoughts during a grueling, hour-long July 14 swim. The first image she saw was her husband, LT SEAL Brendan Looney, who was killed in Afghanistan on Sept. 21, 2010.

Amy met Brendan, a stoic, driven varsity athlete at the United States Naval Academy, on Memorial Day weekend in 2003. The future Navy SEAL was so nervous that friends had to coax him into talking to the pretty girl by the bar.

"He was the shyest person I'd ever met," Amy said. "But by the end of the night, he asked for my number."

Images courtesy: Amy Looney

Brendan had just become a SEAL when he married Amy on July 12, 2008, just 48 hours before a combat deployment to Iraq. While memorable, the Annapolis, Md., ceremony also had a backdrop of profound sadness due to a groomsman's absence. Brendan's Naval Academy roommate, Marine 1st. Lt. Travis Manion, had been killed in Iraq just 14 months earlier.

Amy's thoughts shifted to Travis as the 50-degree water felt like a straitjacket around her arms, which were trying to navigate the Channel.

"I thought about Brendan a lot, but I thought about Travis too," Amy said. "I know they're probably up there laughing."

Brendan and Travis became close friends while learning how to become leaders after 9/11. It was in the Navy where both Midshipmen showed early signs of the everlasting brotherhood that makes the military America's most revered institution.

"One night when we went out, someone bumped into me so hard that I almost fell over," Amy said. "Travis went over to the guy and was like 'you need to apologize ... you don't bump into my friend's girlfriend.'

"It showed how quickly Travis was there to back Brendan up," she continued. "Brendan would have done the exact same thing for him."

Travis' Apr. 29, 2007, death at the hands of an enemy sniper in Fallujah, Iraq, devastated Brendan, who was about to start Navy SEAL training. But Travis' mom, Janet Manion, encouraged him to soldier on.

"Think about what Travis would want," the grieving mother told Brendan.

On his wedding night, Brendan, who graduated as "Honor Man" of his BUD/S class, presented his SEAL Trident to Janet.

"I need you to have this," Brendan said. "I wouldn't have gotten through it without Travis."

With the sky even darker and seasickness filling her stomach, Amy saw Janet's face. She also thought of Brendan's parents, Kevin and Maureen Looney, and her husband's five siblings. Their courage motivated Amy to keep swimming.

After Brendan's shocking death in a tragic Afghanistan helicopter crash, which killed nine American service members, Amy frequently clutched Janet's arm and told her she wanted Brendan and Travis buried side-by-side. The Manions bravely moved their son from Pennsylvania to Arlington National Cemetery, where he rests for eternity beside Brendan.

Bonded by immeasurable loss, Amy grew close with Janet, her husband, Col. Tom Manion (Ret.), and their daughter, Ryan, especially as Travis' mom suffered from cancer.

"I thought about the challenges she went through and how motivated she was by the impact she had on others," Amy said. "Janet's words echoed through my mind."

Janet Manion died on Apr. 24. Yet as Amy finally saw a boat's light in the English Channel's darkness, she heard Janet speak.

"Brendan would be so proud of you," she said.

Amy swam the English Channel relay to honor the fallen with six fellow Americans deeply impacted by war, including military widows and combat veterans. Five swimmers received funding from the Travis Manion Foundation, the organization Janet founded and Amy later joined, to complete their journeys. Each has a compelling story.

When Janet Manion was laid to rest, a silver bracelet with Travis and Brendan's names was on her wrist.

"Warriors for freedom," it reads. "Brothers forever."

In less than five years, Amy Looney, 31, saw the darkness of losing her husband and two close friends. Yet every single day, she keeps swimming toward the light.

"It's not about the goal," Amy said. "It's about the journey and the people you meet to get there."

COPYRIGHT 2012 CREATORS.COM