The Fourth Day

Image courtesy: Crystal Tumey

As he boarded a helicopter in a volatile war zone, Spc. Cody Tumey sent his mom a heartfelt text message:

"I'm on the bird, takin' off," the young soldier wrote. "I love you. Don't worry."

Not worrying is impossible for this mother, especially as her son battles terrorists in Afghanistan's Paktika province, which has been called one of the most dangerous places in the world for an American. Yet for Crystal Tumey, the instinct to stand behind her son and his fellow troops overrides her worst fears.

"Our whole family tries to be the kind of supporters that Cody needs us to be through this, his first deployment," she said in an e-mail to The Unknown Soldiers.

Spc. Tumey's maternal grandmother, Dee Dover, said the most difficult part of the deployment for her daughter is the frustrating reality of sporadic communication. While the soldier always tries to warn his family when he expects to be out of contact during a mission, the waiting, wondering and worrying would wear on even the strongest military mom.

"She gets very anxious on that third day or fourth day," Dover said. "I tell her it's going to be OK, because every time it's the fourth day, he gets back and he calls."

As Tom Petty once wrote in his ode to the Hoosier State, Cody "grew up tall and (he) grew up right with them Indiana boys on them Indiana nights." While always good-natured, the future soldier struggled at times in high school and, according to his grandma, "bummed around" for about a year after graduation as he pondered life's next step.

"His paternal grandpa pointed him in the direction of the military," Crystal said. "Cody also had a great deal of respect for his maternal great-grandpa. Both of them were veterans, and they clearly had a big impact on him and his decision to join the Army."

As soon as basic training started, everything changed.

"The truth is, the Army has truly brought out the best in Cody," the soldier's mom explained. "Cody has become a young man with purpose, bravery and commitment."

The soldier's forward operating base recently withstood a "direct hit" by enemy fighters, an incident that greatly concerned Spc. Tumey's loved ones. When the soldier's dad, Chuck, asked his son about the attack, Cody had a simple response.

"The attempt happens every day here, Dad," the soldier said, according to his grandma. "It's not something isolated."

As day-to-day combat operations heat up during another volatile summer at war in Afghanistan and Iraq, patriotic Americans are praying for our troops, especially in small rural communities outside Indianapolis.

"We pray during the day, we pray at night, we pray every time we think about him," Dover said. "Cody has prayers beside him, over him and under him."

While faith sustains the soldier's family, the unknown is still terrifying.

"We have absolutely zero control over his safety," Cody's grandma said. "He has a job to do, and he's dependent on other soldiers to do their jobs right, too."

Awarded a leadership medal before he could legally be served a beer, the young specialist was serving with the Army's 1st Battalion, 16th Infantry Regiment, known as the "Iron Rangers," when he turned 21 years old on June 15.

"I wish we could be together to celebrate this milestone birthday," Crystal wrote on June 14. "But I know that he is where he wants to be right now."

As another dreaded fourth day without hearing from her son approached, the military mom was again comforted by her son's poignant words:

"This was my dream and my choice," Spc. Tumey's text message continued. "If something happens, don't ever forget that."

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The Dogs of War

Images courtesy: Sgt. Jason Cartwright

The temperature hit 110 degrees as Sgt. Jason Cartwright and his specialized search dog hunted for improvised explosive devices buried beneath some of the world's deadliest terrain. During a perilous nine-hour search in the southern Afghanistan heat, the soldier tried to cool down Isaac, a 4-year-old black Labrador he trained to save lives.

With Taliban spotters looking down from mountaintops and radioing back American positions to fellow terrorists, the Army dog handler knew his patrol was a prime target as he and Isaac searched for bombs in a dry waterway, with a platoon depending on them following closely behind. That's when all hell broke loose.

"The gunfire started, and it was just everywhere. You could hear the echoes of it," Cartwright told The Unknown Soldiers. "All you can hear is the sound of automatic machine guns — you can hear the bullets whizzing by your head."

Immediately upon hitting the ground, the 28-year-old soldier, who went through five months of intense training to become a dog handler after returning from Iraq, screamed for Isaac. The dog was searching for IEDs about 35 feet ahead when the chaos erupted.

"I saw bullets hit right in front of him, and he flinched a little bit and hesitated," Cartwright said. "But once the dog was back to me, I told him to stay, very loudly, of course, but he wasn't shaking. He laid down right beside me."

With Isaac safe, his handler frantically shot back before the firefight ended and the brave tandem finished a "hasty search" for IEDs. There were no American casualties in the battle.

Cartwright and Isaac are part of the Engineer Canine Company of the 5th Engineer Battalion, a unique company of valiant soldiers stationed at Missouri's Fort Leonard Wood. Along with their dogs, handlers deploy individually to combat theaters to support units across the military that are deemed to be at high risk of IED attacks.

"It's pretty much just you and your dog," the Alabama native said of deploying overseas. "You go by yourself and you don't know anybody."

While training Isaac was "fun," knowing the risks they would face together in battle heightened the stakes.

"I have no issues going to work every day because I love my job, but when you are deployed, it changes things up a little bit," the soldier explained.

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

Cartwright said he and Isaac found 28 improvised explosive devices during their year together in Afghanistan, saving countless Americans and Afghans from being killed or wounded. Today, one 40-pound homemade bomb, which was wired to a mortar round, sticks out in the sergeant's mind.

"The Taliban (plants) IEDs around schools and hospitals so villagers can't access them," Cartwright said. "There was a school, and we went to check it.

"Within 20 minutes, we get to a bridge, and Isaac lets me know that there is some kind of explosive that he detected," he continued. "I told everyone behind us to stop and get down."

Isaac was closest to the bomb, and the dog's odds of living were probably about 50-50.

"The dangerous part about calling your dog off is that I'm thinking he's going to step on a pressure plate," Cartwright said. "But I called him back to me, took care of him and secured him."

A heroic explosive ordnance disposal team was called to the area and subsequently disabled the device. Without this soldier and his dog, though, they never would have known where to look.

"You have guys coming up to you and patting you on the back and wanting to play with Isaac," Cartwright said. "They are saying, 'We appreciate it, we've lost so many guys from IEDs — you probably saved my life or someone else in my platoon.'

"It's a good feeling."

Seizing the chance to save even more fellow troops from the biggest post-9/11 threat to their safety, Sgt. Jason Cartwright will soon head back to Afghanistan. But he won't be alone.

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

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Wide Awake

Image courtesy: Cpl. Adam Leyendecker

As millions of Americans drink coffee and wake up for another week at work, or another week trying to find a job, thousands of U.S. troops are on patrol in the dangerous heat of Afghanistan and Iraq.

Tuesday's high in Kandahar is expected to reach 109 degrees, while Baghdad's forecasted high is 104. To many service members apart from their families in post-9/11 war zones, the day of the week simply doesn't matter; it's just another brutally hot day in a strange land.

Outside of base facilities and USO centers, troops in Afghanistan are not enjoying air conditioning and cold lemonade. They are wearing uniforms and carrying heavy gear, as enemy fighters look down from mountaintops, hide in caves, or use women and children as human shields.

Despite challenging conditions that are unimaginable to someone like myself, who hasn't served in the military, our forces are doing a spectacular job every day, night, and weekend. A successful Special Operations Forces mission to secure a village in Afghanistan's Badghis province is a perfect, albeit tough, example. Upon being attacked while arriving at the Panerak village, heroic American forces and their Afghan counterparts killed 23 terrorists, making the area much more secure for civilians caught in the hellish triangle of war.

These types of missions carry significant risk. The first of three U.S. Marines listed below to recently die in combat in Afghanistan was reportedly killed in the Panerak village firefight.

Cpl. William Woitowicz, 23, Middlesex, Massachusetts
Cpl. Matthew Richard, 21, Acadia, Louisiana
Lance Cpl. Nicholas O'Brien, 21, Stanley, North Carolina

As the tragic death of another soldier in Iraq shows us, on the heels of five U.S. troops being killed there last week, that country remains dangerous for thousands of Americans still serving there.

Pfc. Matthew England, 22, Gainesville, Missouri

As the hot, hard sun beats down on their backs, brave American troops in Afghanistan and Iraq are wide awake. Good townsfolk in Massachusetts, Louisiana, North Carolina, and Missouri are also thinking about our men and women in uniform at this hour, as they mourn the loss of hometown heroes.

It's time for the rest of America to wake up too. Now would be an appropriate time.

All the Young Dudes

Images courtesy: Sgt. 1st Class Mark Burrell

Since arriving in Afghanistan in October, Sgt. 1st Class Mark Burrell has witnessed a lifetime's worth of tragedy and triumph. As a military journalist attached to the U.S. Army's 210th Mobile Public Affairs Detachment, his job is to carry the news.

"It's a long war, but there's progress," Burrell told The Unknown Soldiers from Jalalabad, Afghanistan. "Just the littlest things like going out, and maybe you got shot at for a month in this one village, and then, a month or two months later, they're giving you (food) and shaking hands with you."

Getting shot at is a part of life for this 30-year-old soldier from Highland Park, Ill., who was at Forward Operating Base Fenty when we talked over Skype. Burrell, who appeared upbeat and focused, had just returned from several days in the field, two of which he spent holed up while the unit he was on patrol with took enemy fire.

"Eastern Afghanistan, in Nangarhar, Kunar and Nuristan, where I operate, is one of the — if not the most — volatile areas in Afghanistan," Burrell said. "And (the Taliban) is still here, but these guys have really good morale, and we're doing some really good stuff in terms of kicking butt."

Burrell, who spent two years in Iraq, calls recent events in eastern Afghanistan "the most ferocious fighting I've seen in all my tours." He has experienced some terrible things.

"In combat, I've seen such different reactions," the soldier said. "When bullets start flying around, people act different."

After recently meeting and bonding with Staff Sgt. Bryan Burgess, 29, and Spc. Dustin Feldhaus, 20, Burrell learned that both of his buddies had been killed, along with four other 101st Airborne Division paratroopers, during a chaotic Mar. 29 battle. Instead of meeting again and sharing some laughs with his friends, Burrell packed up his gear and traveled through the mountains to photograph their memorial service.

"I was in an eight-hour firefight with those dudes, you know?" Burrell said. "I got pretty close to them. I heard about their passing, and I really wanted to go and cover (the memorial service) for them and for their families."

Less than two weeks later, Gen. David Petraeus arrived at a remote forward operating base to award Silver Stars to Capt. Edward Bankston and Sgt. Joshua Bostic, two of the many surviving heroes who helped the 101st win the crucial battle. After the emotional ceremony, Burrell became overwhelmed when several grieving soldiers thanked him for caring enough to interview them and take their photos.

"To me, that's a better feeling than any sort of award or any sort of recognition that someone else could give me," Burrell explained. "It's the dudes that I'm actually with telling me thanks."

Like many fellow troops in Afghanistan, Burrell is frustrated that stories of sacrifice from the 10-year conflict aren't filling up television, computer and smartphone screens at home.

"That's the stuff that the media — the mass media — doesn't care about," Burrell said. "They have a 24-hour news channel that doesn't cover things as important, I think, as the soldiers and their loved ones."

Regardless of where his stories end up, Burrell will be in Afghanistan until at least the late summer, giving his countrymen a window into a war that's mostly out of the spotlight. When asked how he copes with his job emotionally, Burrell, who usually asks the questions, paused.

"It's sort of cathartic to write about it — it's cathartic to take all those photos and keep them all," he responded. "It's crazy; I've seen guys pick up their battle buddies and run through a hail of gunfire to get their guys to a medevac.

"Sometimes, I feel happy with a camera in my hand — I almost hide behind it," the humble warrior admitted. "I feel like I'm looking at (war) through a movie screen or a video."

Along with his camera and heavy backpack, Sgt. 1st Class Mark Burrell hauls scores of haunting images around the treacherous mountains of eastern Afghanistan. The news he risks his life to send home — always unpredictable, sometimes unforgiving — carries tremendous weight.

COPYRIGHT 2011 CREATORS.COM

A Family of Value

Image courtesy: McEvoy family

The scariest moment of Deb McEvoy's life came on Oct. 24, when her phone rang just after 9:30 a.m. On the other end of the line was a U.S. Army official, who said that her son had been wounded in Afghanistan.

"Which one?" the startled mother replied.

Deb's oldest son, Capt. Riley McEvoy, was serving in Kandahar with the 101st Airborne Division's 2nd Brigade Combat Team. Her youngest son, 1st Lt. Connor McEvoy, was somewhere in Kunar province. They left for Afghanistan from Kentucky's Fort Campbell just two days apart in June 2010.

"That was an overwhelming weekend," Deb told The Unknown Soldiers about seeing both her sons leave for war.

Deb's mind wandered in a thousand different directions as she learned it was Connor who had been hit. Her son's Army vehicle had been struck by a rocket-propelled grenade on a mountain road, leaving him with "non-life-threatening" injuries but still serious enough to airlift the soldier out of a dangerous war zone.

After more than 24 hours, which seemed like "an eternity," Deb finally spoke to her son when he arrived in Germany. The platoon leader had sustained leg injuries that would require months of recovery and rehabilitation, but he would survive.

"Our family is so fortunate," she said. "Even though Connor was injured, we came out of it OK."

While having two sons deployed at the same time was "much different" than her initial experiences as a military family member, Deb, 50, had grown to understand the sacrifices of service. Her husband, 1st Sgt. Joe McEvoy, spent 21 years on active duty. While living on Kentucky's Fort Knox, Joe was given the chance to move to Texas' Fort Hood to train for his first combat deployment. Instead of going to Iraq, Joe, now 51, retired for the sake of his children.

"We wanted to give Riley the opportunity to stay stabilized and graduate without moving again," Deb explained.

As a good big brother, Riley, 26, was trying to figure out how to lift the spirits of Connor, 23, as he continued his recovery at Georgia's Fort Gordon. The Army captain helped arrange a special ceremony in the hospital, where Connor was promoted to his current rank of first lieutenant.

"I think they're doing fine," Deb said of her two sons. "They've changed — nobody can go over there and not come back a different person — but I think they're better men and better soldiers."

The youngest McEvoy is changing right before Deb and Joe's eyes as well. On May 13, the family descended on Blacksburg, Va., for the graduation of 2nd Lt. Erin McEvoy, 22, from Virginia Tech. The day before, she graduated from the Virginia Tech Corps of Cadets and was sworn into the Army by Connor, who had been read the oath by Riley two years earlier.

Now the proud father of three American soldiers, Joe gave his little girl her first salute. Erin, a military intelligence officer with the 1st Cavalry Division, will soon head to Fort Hood, where her father would have been stationed before a deployment to Iraq.

Through trial and tribulation, the scariest moment of Deb's life gave way to the proudest.

"It was probably the happiest day of my life," she said. "I say that because both my boys were home safe and my daughter finished her college career. We're all happy, we're all healthy."

Not a day goes by that Deb isn't thankful for her family's blessings.

"It breaks my heart to hear about families that aren't able to welcome their soldier home the way they had hoped to," the military spouse and mother said poignantly. "Our family is lucky, and I am very grateful."

America is lucky, as we should all feel grateful to live in the same country as even one family like the McEvoys, let alone 1 percent of our population, which volunteers to defend us. Their commitment to service is strong, substantial and quintessentially American. As members of this family of heroes salute one another, they salute the flag with astounding vigor.

COPYRIGHT 2011 CREATORS.COM

The Day He Tried To Live

Image courtesy: Donna Walker

When Spc. Jameson Lindskog desperately tried to stay alive during a chaotic firefight in eastern Afghanistan on Mar. 29, it wasn't for personal reasons. It was his job.

"When I found out he'd be a medic in the Army, I wasn't surprised," Lindskog's mother, Donna Walker, told The Unknown Soldiers. "He had endless compassion for anyone or anything that was helpless or in need."

Shot while caring for a wounded fellow 101st Airborne Division paratrooper, Lindskog simply kept going. Life was precious to this soldier of empathy, especially when it was someone else's.

"He was just incredible," his mom said. "Every time our dog had a seizure, he'd be right there to help."

While helping a sick family pet is different than caring for a wounded soldier on the battlefield, Lindskog's lifesaving instincts kicked in amid the hellish violence of Afghanistan's Konar province.

"It was his first time in combat," Walker said. "I find it even more amazing that even though he had never experienced combat, he never hesitated."

Instead of celebrating his sister Candace's 27th birthday at home in Pleasanton, Calif., Lindskog found himself covered in the blood of a brother in arms, not to mention his own. But if he was going to make the ultimate sacrifice, he wanted it to be this way. According to his mother, the medic had a recurring nightmare of stepping on an improvised explosive device, without getting the chance to care for his fellow wounded warriors in the aftermath.

"When I first heard something had happened, I thought, 'Oh, my gosh, he must have been blown up, and his own worst fear came true,'" Walker said. "I was completely shocked to later find out the circumstances."

Those circumstances are tragic, but also the stuff of legend.

"He was so weak," the soldier's mom said, breaking down in tears. "He told the other guy who was there, 'I'm sorry I can't help you anymore, but I can't continue.'"

As Lindskog succumbed to his devastating injuries, he thought of the wounded comrade in his care.

"He asked another soldier to help before he died," Walker said.

The murder of Lindskog is an outrage. Shooting at a medic on the battlefield is not only a blatant violation of international law, but a despicable act of cowardice.

In the almost 10 years since the terrorist atrocities of Sept. 11, 2001, we have come to expect only the lowest from our enemies, who, until the historic events of May 1, were led by Osama bin Laden. True to form, bin Laden acted "cowardly" at the moment of his demise, according to news reports quoting senior U.S. officials.

"I imagine I feel the same way that most Americans feel: completely ecstatic and jubilant at the thought," Walker said the week bin Laden was brought to justice by U.S. Navy SEALs. "When I heard he was living in that million-dollar compound, I hoped it would demoralize the people fighting for him."

Sgt. 1st Class Ofren Arrechaga, 28, and Staff Sgt. Frank Adamski III, 26, died in the same Mar. 29 battle as Lindskog, 23. Three more "Screaming Eagles" serving with the 2nd Battalion, 327th Regiment, 1st Brigade Combat team were also killed the same day in a separate battle nearby. Many of these fallen heroes, including Lindskog, were just weeks away from coming home.

In war, men and women who would have lived even longer lives of consequence are taken from us, a possibility his mother said Lindskog acknowledged when he made his "first adult decision" to join the military.

"He had a strong sense of right and wrong and what's fair," Walker said. "But of course, the world is never fair."

As Walker embarks on a lifetime of remembrance, she worries about remarkable human beings like her son being forgotten.

"Usually, the kind-hearted people are the ones who are unappreciated," she said.

Not today.

COPYRIGHT 2011 CREATORS.COM

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

It Still Is What It Is

On May 17, I had the honor and privilege of addressing the National Press Club about a journalism fellowship I recently completed for The Phillips Foundation, which was titled "The Unknown Soldiers: How the Media Celebrates American Idols and Ignores American Heroes."

You read the project right here on The Unknown Soldiers blog and in my weekly Creators Syndicate newspaper column, both of which continue today. While every post you read here is near and dear to my heart, one of the stories I think about most often is the emotional saga of Lance Cpl. Andrew Carpenter and his family.

From the Marine's tragic death after being shot in Afghanistan to the subsequent birth of his son, Landon, with an incredible memorial service in between, I wanted to share this story with the audience, which included former Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld and several troops, veterans, and military spouses.

Thank you for continuing to read this blog, the weekly newspaper column, and for supporting the USO, which I humbly joined on March 14. The work of spotlighting, honoring, and helping our troops, veterans, and their families continues every single day, until every one comes home.

Stairway to Heaven

The opening lyrics and chords of Led Zeppelin's "Stairway to Heaven" are among the most iconic in the history of rock. As a prolific amateur guitarist, Sgt. Sean Callahan loved the famous song and particularly enjoyed playing it with his dad and Cpl. Daniel Callahan, his big brother and fellow Marine.

"Their friends would come over, and we'd all have a barbecue, play the guitar and sing," proud father Patrick Callahan told The Unknown Soldiers. "(Sean) enjoyed playing music with his friends — that interaction with other people is what made it fun."

After Sean graduated from his Prince William County, Va., high school, he planned to spend a few years in northern Virginia, figuring out the best way to strum life's complicated strings. The one-year lease on his first apartment hadn't even run out when he enthusiastically joined the Marines. Four months later, Sean's brother made the decision to become his brother in arms.

"Honestly, Dan and Sean are two very different people," their dad explained. "But when Dan made the decision to join, he purposely set his entrance so he could see Sean graduate from boot camp."

Sean's first deployment with the 3rd Battalion, 9th Marine Regiment was to Iraq in 2009. After about two months, Sean and his fellow Marines made an early return to North Carolina's Camp Lejeune to train for a new mission to Afghanistan. Sean's father said the two deployments were vastly different, especially as far as communication back home was concerned.

"The base he was on in Iraq had frequent Internet access, and we could connect with him on Skype," Patrick said. "As bad the connection would sometimes wind up being, seeing your kid and talking to him face to face is just wonderful.

"In Afghanistan, we got a satellite phone call maybe every three or four weeks, and they were usually short," he added.

In mid-April, Patrick's wife, Janet Callahan, spoke to her youngest child for about 45 minutes, one of their longest conversations during Sean's time in Afghanistan.

"He always sounded calm and very comfortable," Patrick said. "He basically just called to say he loved us."

Images courtesy: Facebook

About a week later, Patrick was cooking dinner for one of his two daughters, who, like Sean, loved to have friends over to the house. There was a knock, causing the family dog to rush toward the front door. Sean's dad was down on one knee tending to his pet when he saw two sets of polished black shoes in front of him. Something was wrong.

"I got up and I saw the service outfit greens," Patrick said. "It's like having your world transformed in an absolute instant."

According to the Pentagon, Sgt. Sean Callahan, 23, and Lance Cpl. Dominic Ciaramitaro, 19, were killed conducting combat operations in Afghanistan's volatile Helmand province on April 23. Nine days later, just hours after U.S. forces killed Osama bin Laden, the Callahans laid Sean to rest at Arlington National Cemetery.

"We've never felt like we're alone because there are so many other people who love Sean," Patrick said. "It's a horrible thing to bury a child, but if you look at the positive side, we've had the benefit and privilege as parents to see through other people's eyes what an impact he had on the world around him."

Molly's, an Irish pub in Warrenton, chartered a bus to bring a large group of veterans to Sean's funeral. Virginia Tire & Auto, where Sean once worked, is accepting donations in his memory to support Any Soldier, which sends care packages to American troops overseas.

"It's really amazing stuff," the grateful father said.

When I arrived at Sean's grave on May 17, one of his favorite songs echoed through my headphones. Above his grave marker, I pictured the stairway to heaven. At the top, Sean strummed his guitar while laughing and singing with his newest friends: a decade of men and women who have sacrificed everything in Afghanistan and Iraq.

COPYRIGHT 2011 CREATORS.COM

Note: For information on how to make a donation to our deployed troops in honor of Sgt. Sean Callahan, please click here.

Hard sun

Dark clouds loomed above Arlington National Cemetery as I arrived at the hallowed grounds on Tuesday afternoon.  Even amid heavy construction, a walk down Eisenhower Drive, with white headstones of thousands of heroes on the left and right, is one of the quietest, most reflective walks an American can ever take.

This was my fourth visit to Section 60, where many honorable patriots of America's post-9/11 battlefields rest for eternity.  Tragically, the sacred section continues to expand, as more valiant men and women make the ultimate sacrifice for our freedom.

One of those selfless patriots is Sgt. Sean Callahan, who you can read more about in this week's Creators Syndicate newspaper column, which is posted here on Saturday mornings.  The 23-year-old Marine was killed April 23 in Afghanistan's Helmand province, and I wanted to pay my respects to Sgt. Callahan and his fallen brothers and sisters in arms before the column's release.

At almost the exact same moment that I bowed my head at Sgt. Callahan's place of rest, hard rain began to fall, giving the two sets of flowers left beside the hero's temporary grave marker a much-needed drink.  As raindrops mixed with the tears welling up in my eyes, I saw two people, perhaps a mother and son, standing nearby in the steady showers.  Someone they cared about had given everything in a war zone so we could experience a peaceful day in the nation's capital which, as documents seized from Osama bin Laden's hideout reinforce, remains firmly in the crosshairs of terrorists.

Even after bin Laden's capture, his followers and enablers are still relentlessly targeted by the most highly-trained fighting force in the world.  While there are more victories for the United States in Southwest Asia than defeats, these missions come with extraordinary risk.  In the past four days, the deaths of nine American troops in Afghanistan have been announced by the Department of Defense.  

Spc. Brandon Kirton, 25, Centennial, Colorado
Staff Sgt. David Self, 29, Pearl, Mississippi
Spc. Bradley Melton, 29, Rolla, Missouri
Pvt. Lamarol Tucker, 26, Gainesville, Florida
Pvt. Cheizray Pressley, 21, N. Charleston, South Carolina
Spc. Brian Riley Jr., 24, Longwood, Florida
Sgt. Kevin Balduf, 27, Nashville, Tennessee
Lt. Col. Benjamin Palmer, 43, Modesto, California
Sgt. Robert Schlote, 26, Norfolk, Nebraska

While families of the fallen decide where their loved ones are buried, it is possible that some or all of these men could join Sgt. Callahan in Section 60 in the coming weeks.  I urge every reader of The Unknown Soldiers to visit Arlington National Cemetery, and specifically the heroes of the past decade, during your next visit to the Washington, D.C. area.  I especially believe that school-aged children should be led through Section 60, so they begin to understand why they say the pledge of allegiance as the morning bell tolls.

During my walk back down Eisenhower Drive, I saw a group of Marines getting on a bus after presumably assisting with a funeral.  At that moment, the clouds began to break.  Despite the terrible tragedies thousands of military families have experienced since September 11, 2001, there are still brave men and women willing to honor the memories of our fallen by continuing their work.

Sunlight began warming Arlington National Cemetery just before my departure.  As I left its grounds, I pivoted on the wet grass, turned around, and soaked in the patriotism one last time.  There is a reason we are free.

Note: This post was updated on May 20 at 8:26 a.m. EDT.

The Promise

Shortly after the death of Moses, God made a vow to his successor, Joshua.

"I will not fail thee, nor forsake thee," the King James Bible translation of Joshua 1:5 reads.

Capt. Joshua McClimans made a similar vow to his son, Max, before leaving for Afghanistan. Even while the Army nurse was caring for patients in a volatile war zone, his duties as a father would continue, even from thousands of miles away.

"Josh and Max were inseparable," the soldier's girlfriend, Melissa Bulebush, told The Unknown Soldiers.

Despite frequent bombings and a poor Internet connection on Forward Operating Base Salerno in eastern Afghanistan, McClimans made weekly Skype video calls to his son's first-grade class in Ohio, which he had spoken to before deploying. The 30-year-old soldier, who had previously deployed to Iraq, thought it was important for Max and his classmates to understand that our nation is at war.

"They looked up to him as a hero," Ally Wehmann, Max's teacher, told The Akron Beacon Journal.

McClimans did not think of himself as a heroic figure. In his mind, he was simply a nurse who, on occasion, had to do his job in the world's most dangerous places. When McClimans chose to re-enlist in the Army Reserve, he understood the risks.

"He knew he was going to get deployed at some point in time, and he was OK with it," Bulebush, 35, said. "He had a little bit of PTSD from the first time over there, but working with (the) company that he was with in Iraq, he actually enjoyed it. He helped a lot of soldiers."

Those who served with McClimans were in awe of his genuine bravery and medical ingenuity.

"He was such a dedicated nurse and officer who impacted so many lives," Chris Weidlich, McClimans' company commander in Iraq from 2004 to 2005, posted on Facebook. "He always brought a smile to his friends' faces."

On April 22, McClimans was killed in Khost province when terrorists attacked his unit with indirect fire, according to the Pentagon. The dedicated nurse, who served with the 848th Forward Surgical Team, died just six days before Max's 7th birthday.

"I'm not sure how much he's truly understanding," Bulebush said of young Max. "I think seeing Josh's family has really helped him, though."

In addition to his parents and a 13-year-old stepdaughter, McClimans also leaves behind two sisters.

"The best brother in the world," is how Crystal McClimans described Joshua in a Facebook post. "(We) miss you and love you."

When McClimans returned to his hometown of Jamestown, Pa., on May 3 in a flag-draped casket, everyone was his brother and sister. Word was spreading that the hateful Westboro Baptist Church was planning to protest the fallen hero's funeral. Amid their grief, friends, family members and fellow troops quickly banded together to protect their fallen hero.

"I stand guard now ... for three days," Doug Knieriem, who served with McClimans and brought him home, wrote in a dramatic Facebook post. "I will sleep beside him so he is not alone, and he will comfort me, for he loved me as I did him."

In the end, Westboro didn't dare step foot in Jamestown, where Esther McClimans, the fallen soldier's grandmother, is mayor. And despite cold, rainy conditions, hundreds turned out in full force to wave flags, shed tears and comfort a devastated family.

"People have been just unbelievably supportive," Bulebush said. "It's almost like everyone knows everyone."

As is true with thousands of families who have lost loved ones in Afghanistan and Iraq, a firm support structure will continue be critical for young Max in the years to come. To truly show our gratitude to the relatives of those who have made the ultimate sacrifice, we must make the same promise that God made to Joshua. We will not fail them, nor forsake them.

"Josh's Dad, Mike, just keeps giving Max big hugs," Bulebush said. "I think he knows everything will be OK."

In America, everything will be OK, and it's not just because Osama bin Laden can no longer harm us. It's because since a terrible September morning almost 10 years ago, heroes like Capt. Joshua McClimans have fought, and will continue to fight.

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