The Last Stop

Images courtesy: Bob Bagosy

Bob Bagosy will always remember the day his 19-year-old son, Tommy, told him he was joining the United States Marine Corps.

"I said okay, let's talk about this," Bob, who was living in Delaware, recalled.

When Bob said he wanted to talk, he meant it. Not only would he drive down to Florida, where Tommy was living, but the father and son would also make two key stops during a subsequent drive up the east coast.

The first was South Carolina's Parris Island, where thousands of Marine recruits endure boot camp each year.

"I dropped him off and left for an hour," Bob said. "He got back in the car and said 'I can do this.'"

Before endorsing Tommy's decision, Bob had something else to show him.

"The second stop was Arlington National Cemetery, because I wanted him to see the other half of the military," Bob said.

After seeing the majestic white headstones that mark the hallowed resting spots of so many American heroes, Tommy turned to his father.

"If I die, I want to have the biggest tombstone available," the teenager said.

"Tommy, you won't get any bigger than Arlington," his dad replied.

In 2006, Sgt. Tommy Bagosy deployed to Iraq, where he helped find enemy improvised explosive devices (IEDs) outside the besieged city of Fallujah. It was a tough deployment.

"A best friend took his patrol one night," Bob said. "The guy hit an IED and died.

"Tommy blamed himself and said it should have been him."

During their first visit after Sgt. Bagosy's return, the Marine's parents realized why their son's wife, Katie, was insisting that Iraq's horrors had changed her husband.

"He turned to me in a restaurant and said 'you know dad, I killed people over there,'" Bob said.

Tommy was suffering from headaches, flashbacks, and insomnia. According to his father, traumatic brain injury (TBI) and post-traumatic stress (PTS) from his Iraq deployment caused the symptoms. The Marine was prescribed medication and tried to live a normal life with his wife and two children.

In 2009, Tommy deployed to Afghanistan after renewing his military contract. While admiring his son's bravery, Bob was also concerned about the lingering effects of TBI and PTS. But Tommy served honorably in Afghanistan, particularly while taking enemy fire during an ambush.

"He got his second combat action ribbon for that," Bob said. "He never mentioned a word about it."

Not long after Tommy's November 2009 return, Bob learned his son was again overwhelmed by violent headaches and nightmares, prompting more psychological treatment. When Tommy called home on May 9, 2010, the Marine was at a tragic crossroads.

"He was in absolute tears and told his mother he didn't know what was going on," Bob said. "He was all jumbled up in his head."

The next day, Sgt. Bagosy, 25, fled a hospital at North Carolina's Camp Lejeune, where he was being held for treatment. After a brief pursuit by military police, Tommy shot himself in the head.

"We don't know if he felt like he was being chased by the Taliban," Bob said. "But in that one moment of insanity, he just pulled the trigger."

For Tommy's loved ones, the last two-plus years have been filled with painful questions.

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

Bob, who served in the Marine Corps Reserve, doesn't blame the military for his son's suicide. While searching for answers about Tommy's death, the grieving father is proud of his son's life, and particularly his service in Afghanistan and Iraq.

On Memorial Day, Bob visited Tommy's grave in Section 59 of Arlington National Cemetery, one section over from many of America's most celebrated post-9/11 heroes.

"I looked over (at Section 60) and there were people on lawn chairs ... it was like a community there," Bob said. "Tommy's buried with a lot of honored people, but there's nobody there from Iraq and Afghanistan."

While Bob supports his daughter-in-law's efforts to move Tommy's grave to Section 60, he also remembers the wisdom he once imparted to his son. When it comes to a final place of rest, it doesn't get any bigger than Arlington.

"He wanted a big tombstone," Bob said. "And he got one."

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No Regrets

Images courtesy: Nick Vogt Family

If you lost both your legs, would you be smiling less than a year later?

For me, the answer to that question is no. That's why meeting a seriously wounded U.S. Army soldier named 1st Lt. Nick Vogt is an experience I will always cherish.

What struck me most during my Oct. 12 visit with the 24-year-old Afghanistan war veteran at the Walter Reed National Military Medical Center wasn't seeing a handsome young man with no legs. It was 1st Lt. Vogt's bright, optimistic smile.

When the soldier's mother, Sheila Vogt, introduced me to her son, Nick was lying on his couch beneath an American flag decoration and photos of his little niece and nephew. While a beautiful fall day shined outside his window, stark reminders of our military's continuing sacrifices filled his apartment.

"Thank you for your service, Lieutenant," I said while shaking Nick's hand.

"No problem," the wounded warrior replied with a warm grin.

While the Army Ranger's mom and I sat comfortably, Nick spent most of the hour-long visit on his back. Even though it's been eleven months since an enemy improvised explosive device took his legs, one stubbornly healing wound forces Nick to avoid the sitting position. The quicker the wound heals, the faster the Crestline, Ohio, soldier can finally be fitted with prosthetics.

Nick's left hand is missing its pinky finger, and a large scar engulfs his arm. Both legs are missing entirely. The soldier has no memory of the Nov. 12, 2011, terrorist attack that nearly killed him, and said that in the weeks after the explosion, his mind underwent a full "reboot."

Still, as his mom described before we went upstairs to see Nick, there is no bitterness inside her son's heart. There is only the desire to live, heal and serve.

"I'm staying in," Nick said about his military future. "And mom, someday, I'm going back."

As Nick looked up at his mother, all she could do is smile back, look in my direction and crack a joke.

"Do you see what I have to deal with?" Sheila said with an affectionate smirk.

Before spending time with the Vogts, it was impossible to comprehend the sacrifices made by a wounded warrior's loved ones.

In the eleven months since their son was wounded, Sheila said she and Nick's father have been simultaneously inside in their Ohio home just three times. They alternate weeks at Walter Reed to help Nick, who nearly died in January after a crisis with his lung.

The morning after our visit, Sheila was scheduled to fly home and spend an evening with her husband, Steve. The couple was so excited that they both accidentally made reservations at the same restaurant. Still, before arranging the special trip, Nick's mom and dad had to make sure their son was ready to be alone until Steve arrived in Bethesda, Md., the next day.

"Cleaning a wound is not easy, especially when you can't see it," Sheila said. "He had to prove to me that he could do it."

Looking into Sheila's eyes, I could see the same optimism her son projects. But I could also see exhaustion. Few parents could imagine what Sheila and Steve have endured, yet through faith and unconditional love, they are still smiling.

As we sat with Nick, I asked the wounded warrior what it meant to recently travel to Fort Wainwright to see his fellow soldiers return from Afghanistan.

"It meant everything," he said.

Nick's mom said it took a grueling 12-hour flight from the nation's capital to Alaska in order for the platoon leader to see his fellow troops. He was in pain during the flight, and his parents worried one of his wounds would become infected. But nothing could stop Nick from greeting his brothers in arms.

First lieutenant Vogt is a young man with no regrets. He chose to attend West Point despite knowing he was joining the Army during a time of war. He was accepted to medical school upon graduation, yet chose to deploy to Afghanistan with an infantry platoon. Even though it cost him his legs, Nick would undoubtedly choose the same path all over again.

When I asked the wounded soldier how he was doing, he responded with his trademark smile.

"I'm doing great," he said.

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Women of Courage

Image courtesy: Nick Rozanski Memorial Foundation

As I drove Jenny Rozanski to the airport in September, she said something that underscores the courage of a young generation of war widows.

"I want something good to come out of this," said the wife of fallen Ohio National Guard Capt. Nick Rozanski, who was killed on Apr. 4.

Like every grieving spouse I have spoken with, Jenny's pain is very real. Once a happily married "part-time military wife," as she jokingly called herself, she suddenly and tragically became a widowed mother of two young girls.

After losing her loved one to war, every day in Dublin, Ohio, is now a struggle for Jenny. Still, despite all the challenges she's faced since April, Jenny has spearheaded the creation of the Nick Rozanski Memorial Foundation, which will provide scholarships for children in the Buckeye State.

"I feel like it's my duty to continue on with his legacy," Capt. Rozanski's wife said.

Since the war in Afghanistan commenced after the attacks of Sept. 11, 2001, women all around America have made enormous sacrifices, both on and off the battlefield. Some are U.S. troops; some are military moms, sisters or wives.

The story of Christy Meador, with whom I recently spoke, tragically reminds us that America is still at war. Christy's husband, South Carolina National Guard Sgt. John David Meador II, was killed in Afghanistan on June 20. Christy, who lives in Columbia, S.C., has since gone back to work while raising the couple's little girl, Elana.

"Now I look back, and it was just so meant to be," Sgt. Meador's tearful widow said. "I don't know where I would be today had we not had (Elana)."

Image courtesy: Christy Meador

Linda Mills' story is different. I spoke to this energetic, enthusiastic U.S. Army wife shortly after her husband, Staff Sgt. Andrew Mills, deployed to Afghanistan in February. But in June, she received the worst phone call of her life.

"Your husband has been seriously wounded in Afghanistan," Linda was told.

Thankfully, Staff Sgt. Mills is recovering in Bethesda, Md., from the wounds he sustained to his legs and abdomen. But several others were injured on June 7, and one soldier, Pfc. Brandon Goodine, 20, was killed. Linda and Andrew, who regard themselves as lucky, still pray for the Goodine family.

Image courtesy: Linda Mills

Kelsey Mills (no relation to Linda or Andrew Mills) also considers herself fortunate. Her husband made it home from Afghanistan, even though he lost both arms and legs in an Apr. 10 terrorist attack.

"I can either curl up in a ball and cry or keep going," Kelsey said. "I choose the latter."

Kelsey's husband, Staff Sgt. Travis Mills, served in Afghanistan with Linda's husband, Staff Sgt. Andrew Mills, in the same unit. Today, Travis and Andrew are wounded Afghanistan war veterans who inspire us with their valor, as do their wives.

"I'm happy that my husband is still alive," Kelsey, who is raising a precious little girl with Travis, said. "He's still here."

Image courtesy: Travis Mills Fund

When Melissa Jarboe's husband, Sgt. Jamie Jarboe, was paralyzed by enemy sniper fire on Apr. 10, 2011, the Army wife was devastated. But like Linda and Kelsey, she was grateful her husband survived his Afghanistan deployment.

"I have an acceptance of a path that we're all chosen for," Melissa told me on Jan. 12.

Even as her husband lay in a hospital bed, Melissa did not think she was headed down the path of becoming an Afghanistan war widow. But tragically, on Mar. 21, Sgt. Jarboe died, leaving behind Melissa and her two daughters.

While Melissa surely grieves, her commitment to honoring her husband, as well as helping veterans through the Jamie Jarboe Foundation, is unflappable.

"By the grace of God we were given 11 more months to live life, and for that I can't be selfish or greedy," Melissa wrote shortly after Jamie's passing.

Image courtesy: Jamie Jarboe Foundation

As the war in Afghanistan enters its 12th year, every American has a choice. Citizens can either keep going about their daily lives while forgetting — or ignoring — military families that sacrifice so we can live in relative comfort. Or, we can heed the call of courageous women like Jenny Rozanski, who lost the love of her life and father of her children.

"I want something good to come out of this," she said.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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."

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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.

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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.

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