Holding His Hand

Images courtesy: Susan Porter

One fall day in Guthrie, Okla., Glenda Porter was preparing to call her younger sister to wish her a happy birthday. But before she could dial the number, her phone rang. It was Angie, the wife of her son, Sgt. Rusty Dunagan, who was deployed to an undisclosed location in southwest Asia.

"She asked me if I was sitting down, and I just started crying," Glenda, 55, tells The Unknown Soldiers. "I said, 'Just tell me he's alive."

This is the call that she, and every military mom with a son or daughter overseas, dreads beyond imagination.

"She said he was alive, but he lost both his legs," Glenda says. "I started to lose it, and then she said, 'He also lost his arm.'"

Glenda hung up, cried and began frantically contacting relatives. Her sister, Susan Porter, who had recently moved to Pennsylvania, was expecting some 48th birthday shenanigans from her sibling, until picking up the phone and hearing a sound she'll never forget.

"She was screaming," Susan says of Glenda. "She wasn't making any sense to me, and I thought something happened to our father, but it was about Rusty."

After realizing that there had been an explosion on Sept. 22, 2010 and that her nephew was fighting for his life in Germany, Susan asked Glenda how she could help.

"I told her that we need as many people to pray for Rusty as possible," Glenda says. "I told her to get on Facebook and put it on there, and she did."

What happened next has reinforced Glenda's unshakeable belief in God and the nation her son fought for. Thousands upon thousands of compassionate citizens began joining the page, "Hold My Hand," to send prayers to Rusty and his family.

"People have just been so kind," Glenda says about the Facebook page, which now has almost 20,000 supporters. "It really shows you how great America is."

Susan thinks her nephew's resolve caused the massive outpouring on the Facebook page she created.

"We get so busy and caught up with life, we're used to conveniences and certain things," Susan, who is planning an Aug. 6 benefit for her nephew in their hometown of Guthrie, says. "But when we hear about tragedy, and you can really put a face and name to it ... it becomes a resource for people to be encouraged and for people to do something."

In the first days following the explosion, Glenda would wait for 4:30 a.m. phone calls from a friend at the hospital in Germany. News was sometimes encouraging and sometimes grim. When I ask the soldier's mom how many surgeries Rusty has underwent since September, Glenda says she's "lost track."

"He almost bled to death during his first surgery, and it seemed like he was having surgeries and blood transfusions almost every other day," Glenda painfully recalls. "But he's really strong — Rusty is so strong."

Today, Dunagan, 30, is continuing his long recovery in San Antonio. There have been bad days, but also some good ones, like when the wounded hero got to see his three stepchildren for the first time since the explosion.

"I was concerned about how that would go," Glenda admits. "But they didn't act like anything was wrong; they went straight up to him and started hugging."

Dunagan, who has a nine-month-old baby with his wife, has gone through more uncertainty than most of us will in a lifetime. But through faith and genuine appreciation of his remaining blessings, this soldier is still fighting.

"Someone asked him why he's so positive," his mom says. "He said it's because he didn't pass out — he remembers the explosion — he looked down and saw his legs and an arm gone, and yelled for the medic."

"He thought he would die then, and thought he would die after it happened," Glenda continues. "But he didn't, and he believes it's a gift. That's his attitude."

When Glenda got that heartbreaking phone call from her daughter-in-law, she wanted to be told that Dunagan was alive. He is, with a grateful nation holding the hand he has left.

COPYRIGHT 2011 CREATORS.COM

Former Senate Majority Leader and World War II veteran Bob Dole meets with Sgt. Rusty Dunagan, who was wounded in southwest Asia.

It Is What It Is

Images courtesy: Courtney Helton Photography & Video

Moments after making the most difficult decision of her life, Crissie Carpenter thought she heard her husband's voice, softly whispering in her ear.

"It is what it is," he said.

A simple saying, it was also Lance Cpl. Andrew Carpenter's favorite. And it gave comfort to his wife, eight months pregnant, as she made the crushing choice to remove him from life support from roughly 4,500 miles away, unable to fly to Germany with her due date so near.

"I told his mom to hold his hand and that I didn't want to be on the phone when it happened," the Marine's widow told The Unknown Soldiers. "I spoke to him three different times — they put the phone up to his ear for me."

Five days earlier, on Valentine's Day 2011, the love of Crissie's life was shot through the neck by an enemy sniper in Afghanistan. It was a tragic moment that her husband knew was coming, as evidenced by their final conscious phone call, which occurred three weeks before he was shot.

"We said 'I love you' 20 times before hanging up on that last phone call because I wouldn't say goodbye," Crissie said. "I have a feeling that he knew."

Andrew, 27, told his wife that he was often at the front of combat patrols while serving in Afghanistan's volatile Helmand province with the 3rd Battalion, 8th Marine Regiment. He fought valiantly, but was also deeply worried about what would happen to his wife and unborn son, Landon, after he was killed.

I hope the events of Feb. 28 in Columbia, Tenn., put the fallen hero's fears to rest. On that gray, somber Monday, I witnessed a city of 38,000 stand shoulder to shoulder with the Carpenters in a seminal display of genuine compassion and resounding patriotism. The funeral home's chapel and overflow room were packed beyond capacity. Thousands of citizens, including children and the elderly, stood in the cold mist to salute the hometown Marine's funeral procession.

"It means so much to me," Crissie wants her fellow Tennesseans to know. "Andy was a hero — he is a hero. Having everyone's support, even people I don't know, it makes you stronger. It's indescribable."

In a memorial service full of touching moments, I learned about how Andrew, himself a child at heart, adored kids. He still collected action figures, even keeping the harmless secret from his wife. He loved to play soccer with his nephew, Caleb, an activity he missed deeply in Afghanistan, where millions of children still suffer in the shadows of terrorism.

"He loved kids, and I really liked that about him," Crissie said. "He had a great, awesome personality — a very nice, genuine person. I never heard him say anything mean about anyone."

The only comforting aspect of the last three weeks' devastating events is that Andrew got a head start on meeting his little boy.

"He isn't here yet," Crissie poignantly wrote of baby Landon in his father's funeral program. "Right now he's still in heaven with Andrew."

I asked Crissie what she would tell Landon about his dad.

"I want him to know how excited (Andrew) was about him, what happened in Afghanistan and why his father is a hero," she responded. "When he writes a school paper about who his hero is, I want him to write 'my dad.'

"The simple fact of knowing what type of person Andy was, I think, will make Landon a better person, too," Crissie continued.

The last song played at the celebration of Andrew's life was Sarah McLachlan's 'Angel,' which brought about 500 people, from battle-tested Marines to funeral home employees, to an authentic moment of reflection.

"You are pulled from the wreckage
Of your silent reverie
You're in the arms of the angel
May you find some comfort here."

"Prayer and God are the main things getting me through this," Crissie said. "I feel at peace with the way it was supposed to be."

To sum up this overwhelming post-9/11 ordeal of tragedy, selflessness, bravery and sacrifice, Crissie Carpenter returned to her husband's motto.

"It is what it is."

COPYRIGHT 2011 CREATORS.COM


Note: Contributions to "Landon's Fund" can be made at any Regions Bank in middle Tennessee.

The Cutting Edge

Image courtesy: Lance Cpl. Cindy Alejandrez

"A nation which forgets its defenders will itself be forgotten," actor Gary Sinise, quoting President Calvin Coolidge, recently wrote to U.S. troops in a poignant letter. "I hope these 'Letters from Hollywood' will help to let you know that your nation has not forgotten."

Sinise, of course, is instantly recognizable around the world for his unforgettable portrayal of Lt. Dan in "Forrest Gump." He is also one of America's most determined supporters of our armed forces, as his fine work with the USO demonstrates.

Sinise wrote the letter because a fellow actor, D.B. Sweeney, asked for his help after noticing a glaring void of enthusiasm for the military in Tinseltown. It led Sweeney to launch "Letters from Hollywood," which gives celebrities a unique chance to reach out to men and women in uniform.

Sweeney, who starred in films such as "Eight Men Out," "Memphis Belle" and "The Cutting Edge," told The Unknown Soldiers that he believes a substantial number of Hollywood actors are oblivious to the daily sacrifices being made by thousands of fellow Americans in Afghanistan, Iraq and around the world.

"I don't think the majority really have views except what they've been handed," the actor said.

The Feb. 27 Academy Awards broadcast reinforced Sweeney's point of view. During the marathon 185-minute telecast, our men and women in harm's way received no substantial recognition.

In addition to keeping the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq in our national consciousness, without letting politics cloud the extraordinary accomplishments of troops ordered to carry out dangerous missions, Sweeney thinks the film community has a responsibility, especially in wartime, to portray the military fairly.

"There have been some movies in Hollywood that denigrate our troops with the cliche that they're poor, stupid or have no options," Sweeney, who held a special 2008 screening of the movie "Two Tickets to Paradise" for troops in Iraq, said. "I find the opposite to be true; in fact, I know high-ranking officers who have turned down higher salaries in the private sector."

Since launching the website in partnership with the U.S. Army, Sweeney has received heartfelt letters for the troops from celebrities like Oscar-winning actor Cuba Gooding Jr., "Rudy" star Sean Astin, Tom Wilson of "Back to the Future" fame, vampire slayer Kristy Swanson, rocker Ted Nugent and "Sopranos" tough guy Tony Sirico.

"I've been involved with WWP (Wounded Warrior Project) since 2004 after going to Iraq with Jim Gandolfini and witnessing what you proud patriots do for God and your country," Sirico, who played Paulie on the hit HBO show, wrote to the troops. "And I thought I was a tough guy?!?! Fughedaboutit!"

A particularly moving letter was written by Gina Elise, who I had the pleasure of meeting at a 2010 gathering of military bloggers. Elise tirelessly travels the globe visiting injured service members and veterans, and poses for pin-up calendars to benefit the wounded.

"Your sacrifices have shown me that life is about giving to and helping others. You are my role models," Elise, whose charitable calendars can be purchased at pinupsforvets.com, said. "Please know that we on the home front are thinking of you and wish every service member a safe return home."

Elise got an overwhelming response to her letter from warriors fighting on America's post-9/11 battlefields.

"It is such a morale booster when great Americans like you stand behind and support us," a U.S. service member serving his third overseas tour wrote to Elise from Afghanistan.

Sweeney is hoping more Americans, especially celebrities earning exorbitant salaries, will reach out to the men and women protecting our way of life.

"They don't join the Army for any other reason than to serve the country," Sweeney said of America's all-volunteer force. "We live in the greatest country in the world, and we're lucky to be born here."

There was a time when supporting our military was a top priority in Hollywood, which included actors like Jimmy Stewart and Henry Fonda, who selflessly volunteered to risk their lives after Pearl Harbor. As the 10th anniversary of the 9/11 terrorist attacks approaches, a new generation of stars, led by genuine patriots like Gary Sinise and D.B. Sweeney, are ahead of their time.

COPYRIGHT 2011 CREATORS.COM

Image courtesy: Spc. Samuel Phillips

Through and through

Chilly winds rippled through the hundreds of American flags held and planted around Columbia on February 28, a few hours after severe weather had blown through middle Tennessee. Yet despite the blustery air, gray sky, and cold drizzle, thousands of citizens lined the streets, with their hands on their hearts and their minds on a grieving family struck by the storm of war.

To write a few hundred words about what I witnessed in this city does not do justice to the outpouring of love, patriotism, mourning, and support that thousands of fine folks showed to the relatives, friends, and fellow Marines of Lance Cpl. Andrew Carpenter on Monday. The fallen hero, who I will profile in an upcoming Creators Syndicate column, suffered catastrophic wounds on Valentine's Day in Afghanistan's Helmand province, and passed away on February 19.

The Heritage Funeral Home memorial service for Lance Cpl. Carpenter concluded with a beautiful, emotionally devastating moment. Sarah McLachlan's 'Angel' softly played over the chapel's speakers as mourners sat in silence, cried, and prayed. When I walked up front to pay my respects at the Marine's open casket, I said a prayer for his widow, Crissie Carpenter, and the unborn son, Landon, who will soon bring her joyous light in a time of darkness. As Mrs. Carpenter poignantly said in her husband's obituary, Landon "isn't here yet, right now he's still in heaven with Andrew."

As soon as cars began slowly leaving the funeral home for the drive to Polk Memorial Gardens, everyone in the procession saw a city's collective arms wrapped around Crissie and Landon Carpenter. Folks of every age and background stood on streets and highways to honor Lance Cpl. Carpenter and his loved ones. Businesses, places of worship, and schools shut down in the middle of a Monday afternoon to catch a glimpse of the passing hero and wave their flags.

One of the most touching moments I witnessed during the procession was in front of a school, where children stayed several hours after the afternoon bell to learn the meaning of sacrifice.

One of many businesses to shut down was Regions Bank. Employees stood quietly outside their workplace, in front of flags at half-staff, to show their support for the Carpenter family. During my drive home on Tuesday, I stopped at a Regions branch to make a memorial contribution to "Landon's Fund," which will go toward the child's future. To contribute, you can visit any Regions Bank in middle Tennessee or ask its Columbia, Tenn., branch for information on how to donate.

Elderly people stood in the cold outside a nursing home, with one veteran, perhaps of World War II, saluting a fellow warrior. A few more miles down the rural highway, an active duty service member stood alone in the wind, saluting his brother in arms. Police officers and firemen were everywhere, going well beyond their duty to make sure the day's events went exactly as planned.

During a troubled time when the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq are mostly off the national radar, it's easy to get frustrated or even cynical about our country. But as it paid homage to a fallen volunteer warrior, the Volunteer State reminded us why our nation is still the greatest on earth.

Lance Cpl. Andrew Carpenter kissed his soulmate goodbye, served in Afghanistan, met his son in heaven, and was greeted by thousands of guardian angels in his hometown. As Columbia, Tenn., showed the world on February 28, the loved ones this Marine left behind will never be alone.

Room at the Top

Daniel Parten, Lona Parten, Anna Laura Parten, Tyler Parten

Image courtesy: Tyler Parten Foundation

As Lona Parten stared into a sunrise atop the world's tallest freestanding mountain, she reflected upon the darkest year of her life. The last 3,000 feet of her August climb to Mount Kilimanjaro's summit took seven hours, through frigid, pitch-black conditions. Yet she was determined to equal a feat that her sons, 1st Lt. Tyler Parten and 2nd Lt. Daniel Parten, once fulfilled together.

"Come hell or high water, I was going to do it myself," Lona, 48, told The Unknown Soldiers.

On Sept. 10, 2009, her eldest son's life ended on a mountain in Afghanistan's Kunar province. Tyler, 24, was leading a platoon of the Army's 3rd Squadron, 61st Cavalry Regiment toward a Taliban stronghold when he was struck by enemy sniper fire.

On that terrible day, a life devoted to faith, music and concern for children ended brutally. Lona said Tyler's body remained on the hill for nearly 10 hours after his death, with enemy bullets repeatedly striking her son as fellow troops were pinned down by sniper fire.

"It is true pain ... indescribable," a tearful Lona said after recounting the dreadful details. Her voice shook throughout our conversation, on the day after what would have been Tyler's 26th birthday.

"Every fiber of your body hurts and sometimes you can't even breathe," she added.

Her surviving son, Daniel, 24; daughter Anna Laura, 20; and ex-husband Dave, 55, all wear memorial bracelets identical to the one I noticed on Lona's right wrist in a Birmingham, Ala. restaurant. The bracelets are never removed, nor are haunting images described by still-grieving members of Tyler's platoon. Yet despite his deployment's tragic ending, fellow soldiers said Tyler embraced his time in Afghanistan.

"They said he came into his own there and truly loved it," Lona said, briefly perking up. "He was full of compassion, music and love."

Tyler's private journals, which Lona treasures and has spared no expense to copyright and possibly publish, reveal that the warrior's heart was constantly aching for Afghan children savaged by terrorism, hate and war.

"When reading his journal entries, you see the pain and anguish, but then his words would end on a positive note," she said.

The words Lona used to describe what transpired in the hours and days after her family learned of Tyler's death — anger, blame, depression, screaming, crying — pierced my heart.

But like his journals, the fallen warrior's Marianna, Ark., memorial service ended on a positive note.

"My children sang, played guitar and did everything that Tyler would have loved," Lona recalled, reminding me that her son loved to play music for kids in Afghan villages.

Few American moms face a second son deploying to war after losing their first born in combat. Lona said Daniel and his wife, 2nd Lt. Tara Parten, will eventually head to Afghanistan after they complete training. Like Tyler, both are West Point graduates full of bravery, patriotism and purpose. But that doesn't make it any easier for a mother to bear.

"It is so hard to even think about him going into combat," Lona replied after I asked about Daniel. "How will I sleep? How will I deal with the phone ringing or knocks at the door?"

The light at the end of the Kilimanjaro darkness has helped Lona cope with her constant fears and deep emotional scars. She may have lost her eldest son on a mountain in southwest Asia, but she rediscovered his spirit at Africa's peak.

"When the sun came out, it all seemed better," Lona remembered. "It's not, but you have to come to peace with it."

"Something snapped: I can't continue to be sad all the time," she continued. "I'm not going to lose Tyler or forget Tyler just because I'm happy."

Perhaps the poignant closing sentence of 1st Lt. Parten's journal can comfort the loved ones of more than 4,600 American troops killed in action since Sept. 11, 2001.

"If there is anything I've learned, though, it's that the future is in God's hands."

For the families of America's fallen heroes, there is still room at the top of the mountain where one mom found hope.

COPYRIGHT 2011 CREATORS.COM

Badge of Honor

Images courtesy: U.S. Army

After six hours of driving to and from Jordan's border with Iraq, an exhausted Maj. Gen. David Blackledge wrapped up an early dinner with fellow U.S. Army officers at Amman's Grand Hyatt on Nov. 9, 2005.

As Blackledge's group walked past the hotel bar, a man sat down and ordered an orange juice. Moments later, as the soldiers walked toward the elevators, he blew himself up.

"It was pandemonium," Blackledge told The Unknown Soldiers. "Between people trying to get in and out, and the emergency workers, it was full of gridlock."

Flashing back to a harrowing 2004 ambush he barely survived during his prior Iraq war deployment, Blackledge knew the enemy too well to believe danger had passed.

"I told my fellow officers: 'We need to get out of here,'" Blackledge said.

The general's racing heart was met by the pounding pressure of another nearby explosion, which everyone felt in their chests as they raced through Amman's chaotic streets. Despite neck and shoulder injuries, Blackledge guided his group to an Italian restaurant, where officers were promptly whisked away to a safe house.

"The pain didn't really manifest itself until the next day because of adrenaline," the general said.

When Blackledge was blindsided by this terrorist attack on three hotels, which killed 60 and injured more than 100, he was still haunted by images of the ambush in Iraq 14 months earlier, which left him in a body cast. The general was heading to a tribal meeting near Iskandariya when heavy machine-gun fire blasted his convoy.

"My translator, who was sitting behind me, had been shot in the head," Blackledge recalled in a quiet, subdued tone. "As bullets flew through the windows, I was convinced that it was all over, and the next round was going to hit me, but I was going to go down shooting."

After narrowly escaping the flipped-over SUV and diving into a nearby ditch, the general ran back toward another one of three convoy vehicles, which had burst into flames.

"I tried opening the back door, got it open and saw it was just tangled bodies and blood," Blackledge said. "Then the captain said, 'Get me out of here,' because a translator was on top of him."

When Blackledge bent down to help his comrade, he felt a crippling shot of pain through his lower back. As the general later learned, his L3 vertebrae had been crushed in the SUV rollover. He was one of five injured in the enemy ambush, which killed one Iraqi translator.

While confined to a body cast for 11 months, Blackledge realized his injuries went far beyond his shattered back.

"I was constantly reliving the ambush," the general said. "It was nonstop and kept rolling in my mind."

Blackledge, who now commands the Army's Civil Affairs & Psychological Operations Command (Airborne), admits that he returned to duty too quickly after being wounded the first time. The subsequent Amman bombings, coupled with the stress of leading men and women into battle, pushed him close to the edge.

"The thing driving me crazy the most was the short attention span and difficulty concentrating," he explained. "My wife is an Air Force nurse with three combat deployments, and she had concerns about me."

After some initial coaxing, this battle-tested military leader, who has received the Legion of Merit, five Bronze Stars and two Purple Hearts since 1975, set the bar for a new, unofficial badge of honor. He asked for help.

"It was like a weight coming off my shoulders," the general said.

Blackledge, who still struggles with post-traumatic stress disorder but has benefited greatly from treatment, has an order for active duty service members and veterans. If you're hurting inside, or know someone who is, it's time to speak up.

"It's just like helping out a soldier who has a physical wound," Blackledge said. "We wouldn't stop or hesitate at that, but sometimes we're too reluctant when it comes to injuries we can't see."

While a general's nightmares about a terrorist ordering orange juice and enemy bullets piercing his SUV may never cease, the stigma attached to post-traumatic stress disorder, at long last, is beginning to fade.

COPYRIGHT 2011 CREATORS.COM

Note: To read more columns like this one in your local newspaper, please ask editors to contact Creators Syndicate.

Closer to You

Image courtesy: Travis Manion Foundation

Horrific news from Iraq's Al Anbar province was still sinking in when the Manion family's phone rang in Doylestown, Pa. On the line was Brendan Looney, calling in the middle of grueling Navy SEAL training. The strong, aspiring warrior was bawling hysterically.

Earlier on that Sunday, April 29, 2007, Looney's Naval Academy roommate and dear friend, 1st Lt. Travis Manion, was killed by a sniper's bullet as he drew enemy fire away from wounded Marines. Manion, 26, was posthumously awarded the Silver Star and Bronze Star with Valor for heroism and gallantry displayed in combat.

Before Manion left for what would be his final combat tour, someone asked him why he had to go back to Iraq. The Marine's response was simple, but direct: "If not me, then who?"

Looney asked himself the same difficult, poignant question as he contemplated quitting SEAL training to mourn his friend.

"(Brendan) just wanted to come back, but he couldn't leave," Travis' older sister, Ryan Manion Borek, told The Unknown Soldiers. "My parents said 'Brendan, you can't quit. Travis would never want you to quit.'"

Looney went all in on Navy SEAL training, perhaps the most physically demanding 30-week program known to man.

"He dedicated the rest of his training to Travis," Brendan's sister, Erin Looney, told me. "He would never give less anyway, but he was going to give that much more for Travis — that extra little edge."

On June 22, 2008, Lt. Brendan Looney graduated as "Honor Man" of his class. With his wedding and a deployment to Iraq just three weeks away, Looney made an emotional journey to Pennsylvania his top priority.

"When he graduated from SEAL school, the first thing he did was visit my parents," Ryan, 31, said.

Looney made it home safely from his first combat deployment and would fight overseas three more times, with "if not me, then who?" always in the back of his mind.

"Brendan never wanted us to worry or think about him being in danger," his younger sister, 23, said. "He was always going to protect us — even protect us from worrying and stressing about him being over there."

On Sept. 21, 2010 in southern Afghanistan, Looney, 29, boarded a Black Hawk helicopter with three fellow SEALs and five soldiers. The chopper crashed in Zabul province, killing all nine American service members aboard.

Erin, one of Brendan's five siblings, was sitting at work on that tragic September day, half a world from the crash site. She still mourned Travis, who "was like another older brother," when she lost Brendan.

"Our family is really close, and seeing everyone else upset is what upsets you the most," Erin said.

"The Looneys are an amazing family," Ryan, the executive director of the Travis Manion Foundation, emphasized. "They are very tightknit, like we are."

Amid dual tragedies that could tear any family apart, the Looneys and Manions came together. After Brendan's wife, Amy, said she wanted her husband resting close to his best friend, Travis' parents agreed to move their son's grave from Pennsylvania to Virginia. The heroes now rest side by side at Arlington National Cemetery.

"The ceremony was amazing, beautiful and heartbreaking," Ryan, who witnessed her only brother's burial for a second time, said.

Erin said that as kids, she and her siblings, three of whom went on to serve in the military, always wanted to hang out in Brendan's room — "the cool room" of the house. Today, she spends hours sitting in the Arlington grass, next to her big brothers in arms.

"We were so lucky to get to know them and be a part of their lives," Erin said, bringing tears to my eyes. "One is rare enough, but to have two, both brothers to you, is on a whole other level."

This new column's mission is to introduce you to the men and women who defend our freedom. As these stories arrive on your kitchen table every week, I hope you will feel as close to the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan as I did on Christmas morning, while bowing my head at the graves of 1st Lt. Travis Manion and Lt. Brendan Looney. Surrounded by fellow Americans, they will never be divided.

COPYRIGHT 2011 CREATORS.COM

Image courtesy: Eileen Horan

Note: The Unknown Soldiers now appears in newspapers as a weekly, nationally syndicated column. To read more personal stories of our nation's heroes, please call or e-mail your hometown paper and urge its editors to contact Creators Syndicate.

Through the morning, through the night

Image courtesy: Senior Airman Gino Reyes

Every morning for the past nine years, American service members have watched over the Joint Task Force Guantanamo detention facility in Cuba. Steps away from the bright blue ocean and some of the world's most dangerous terrorists, troops like Spc. Emely Nieves, pictured in the Honor Bound Guard Tower on January 7, are responsible for some of the war on terror's most sensitive work.

While Guantanamo became a symbol of ideological differences in the United States, especially in the latter portion of the last decade, the men and women in uniform there are not politicians. They follow orders, whether that means interrogating, guarding, or providing medical care for suspected terrorists, or taking the first steps to release detainees cleared by courts.

Eight thousand miles away in Afghanistan, where many alleged members of al Qaeda or other terrorist organizations were captured, volunteer warriors patrol America's post-9/11 battlefields as the sun goes down. Over the past week, the Pentagon has announced the deaths of five U.S. service members in Afghanistan. The first three soldiers listed below were killed in action, while the soldier and airman at the end of this tragic grouping died in non-combat incidents.

Spc. Omar Soltero, 28, San Antonio, Texas
Spc. Joshua Campbell, 22, Bennett, Colorado
Spc. Shawn Muhr, 26, Coon Rapids, Iowa
Sgt. 1st Class Anthony Venetz Jr., 30, Prince William, Virginia
Tech. Sgt. Leslie Williams, 36, Juneau, Alaska

Tuesday in Uruzgan province, U.S. Special Forces helped Afghan police destroy 15 improvised explosive devices that could have killed, maimed, or terrorized innocent civilians in Shahid-e Hasas district. While these stories no longer make headlines in the United States, I believe saving lives is both noteworthy and extraordinary.

As sweeping changes in Egypt rock the world community, let us not forget all the daily sacrifices being made by brave Americans serving in our military. From guard towers at Guantanamo to the runways of Kandahar Air Field, between sunrise and sunset, flashes of freedom peek through the clouds.

Image courtesy: Spc. Edward Garibay

Not gone

When Staff Sgt. Joshua Mills joined the Army in 2005, his family prepared for many holidays apart, including Christmas. Yet as his older brother told The El Paso Times, the Green Beret would almost always manage to find his family on December 25.

I learned of Staff Sgt. Mills' story on Christmas 2010, while walking through Section 60 of Arlington National Cemetery. While every resting spot on this sacred ground is important, Mills' headstone stood out because of moving, carefully placed decorations on and around the Soldier's headstone.

As you can see in the above photo, a loved one or friend pasted his picture and a "hero" sticker on each side of "U.S. Army," while the small tree and candy cane on each side of the headstone signify the true meaning of Christmas: Sacrifice, love, and family.

When Mills was deciding on his career path, Chris Roberts reports that he decided to follow the noble path of his dad, Tommy Mills, who had a distinguished career as an Army warrant officer. One of his brothers, Travis Mills, serves in the Air Force. Joshua Mills' inner call to serve was so strong that he left the University of Texas to enlist, trading dorm rooms and fraternity parties for 5 a.m. wake up calls and demanding tests of physical skill and emotional willpower. Training was hard on the aspiring Soldier, but it all paid off when he became part of the Army's elite Special Forces.

On September 16, 2009, the 24-year-old Green Beret was on his second deployment to Afghanistan when an improvised explosive device planted by terrorists took his life in Helmand province. Killed alongside Mills were Sgt. 1st Class Bradley Bohle, 29, and Sgt. Shawn McCloskey, 33. All three departed warriors served with the 3rd Battalion, 7th Special Forces Group, based out of Fort Bragg, North Carolina.

December 25, 2010, marked the second Christmas since Mills was taken from his family. Not long beforehand was the second birthday of his young son, Malaki, who is learning about his father's heroism from his mother, grandparents, aunts, and uncles. A deeply moving Batman-themed birthday party invitation attached to the fallen Soldier's headstone shows us that dad will always be an integral part of his son's life.

"We feel you near...'Ki Ki' seems to sense your presence and says things and points when no one else is there. We know you are are NOT GONE -- you will always be with us -- especially in our hearts."

Cars were permitted to pass through most roads inside Arlington National Cemetery on Christmas, perhaps because officials knew how many relatives and friends wanted to visit their fallen heroes on the special holiday. Just as I was leaving, a large pickup truck pulled up with a huge tribute to Staff Sgt. Joshua Micah Mills on the back window. Once again, this proud, patriotic American family was together for Christmas.

Faraway places

Images courtesy: Sgt. Brian Kester

While the above photo is clouded by blowing sand, one fact is crystal clear. Conditions are far from ideal for Marines in Badghis province, Afghanistan, which is in the northwest part of the country not far from the border with Turkmenistan. While temperatures and terrain vary around Afghanistan, which is roughly the size of Texas, troops serving in the country must adjust to a primitive environment that would shock some Americans who take things like running water, toilets, and heat for granted.

Soon, more Marines will join their thousands of brothers and sisters in arms in Afghanistan. The Wall Street Journal reports that 1,400 additional Marine warriors will deploy to the post-9/11 war zone as early as mid-January. For each Marine that takes this dangerous journey, there are dozens of loved ones, friends, and fellow troops worried about their safety. The impact of these types of deployments on the military community cannot be overstated.

I have watched several hours of cable news coverage in the past two days and heard next to nothing about events on the ground in Afghanistan or Iraq. From the death and capture, respectively, of two senior terrorist leaders, to the life-saving measures Polish troops used to rescue a pregnant Afghan woman and help deliver her baby, there is plenty of fascinating news to report. Instead, cable news is obsessing over the new Congress, which is an important political development, but something everyone knew would happen for months.

For the thousands of coalition troops serving in Afghanistan and Iraq, life is intensely unpredictable and immeasurably different than home. While the national media isn't particularly interested in their personal sacrifices, I strongly believe that the majority of the American public deeply appreciates what these brave men and women do every day. As we go about our lives at home, our fellow Americans are attacking the enemy where it murders, plots, and plans. To our brave service members: Thank you for standing guard in faraway places.