Dear Family and Friends,
As some of you know, we suffered two more KIAs (killed in action) last week.
I am not even sure what to say or how to begin. I have repeatedly been
listening to "Adagio for Strings" by Samuel Barber, my second favorite
American composer. The piece is a slow mournful dirge and I have played it
over and over these past few days in the sanctuary of my room to give
expression to my own sense of loss, hurt and grief.because my pain must
remain very private here. As a leader, I am forced to be strong, to put on
the mask which hides my agony and push forward. But, since few here on the
FOB will ever read these words, I can tell you this, my heart is broken and
my soul weeps in private, just as I did earlier this evening, during my run
down a tree lined road to the end of the FOB where the vista opens up to an
almost surreal beautiful grove of palm trees and the emerald Euphrates
river. Such irony.weeping in such a peaceful place.
I cried not for my self, but for the two young men I memorialized this
morning. I cried for their families. I cried for their friends at home. I
cried for their buddies here. And I cried, perhaps, in fear that I might
have to repeat it all over again sometime in the future. Please don't
misunderstand me. I certainly don't dislike my job. Quite to the contrary,
I love what I do as a chaplain. There is no job in the military I would
rather have. Ninety-five percent of it brings me such reward and personal
satisfaction that I consider myself the luckiest man in the world but the
last five percent, like today or the day I said last rites for one of these
boys.those are days, I could do without.
Today's ceremony was the third memorial service we have conducted since
arriving in July. But this was the first that involved more than one
person. The brave souls we honored and remembered today had names. They
were Gunnery Sergeant Darrell Boatman, USMC (United States Marine Corps) and
SPC Timothy Brown, MIARNG (Michigan Army National Guard). We lived, worked
and fought together. And now they are gone.but not our resolve. It remains
firm. It is embedded deeply in our memory and affection for Darrell and
Tim. So with spines of steel, strong and straight, we salute our comrades
and move out, because that is what they would have us do. That is what any
of us would ask of our friends here. That is what is required. That is
what we MUST do. That is what their teams are doing already as I sit here
writing. Our enemy still does not understand our resolve or commitment. He
thinks by spilling our blood we will turn and run. Nothing is further from
the truth. In fact
, spilling the blood of our brothers is like adding gasoline to the fire
because our passions and commitments for our mission burn brighter with
every drop which falls.
So I will conclude for now. There is other work at hand. I am attaching my
remarks from the memorial service for anyone who cares to read them. They
were well received and seemed to offer some degree of comfort and
inspiration to the hundreds who were in attendance.
Since we are pressing forward, I also want to thank the following people and
organizations for their help and assistance this past week: Mary Ellen
Wooten, Margaret Fisher, Ingrid Dow, Mary Salzman and her beau Rich, George
and Elain Palahunik, Paul Conway, MG Jessica Wright, the Hill family, Betty
Voss, SFC Christopher Pyle, Sandi Blakley, LTC and Mrs. Grey Berrier, Lisa
Nyberg, Kathryn Zigmont, Cathy Baker and Arbter Systems Inc., Jean Bourne,
Kristin Dillon Chrvala, Kate Comer, Judy Volpatti, the 128th Forward Support
Battalion, Leatha Weese, Caren Vink, Melissa Dennis, Deb Gutierrez, James
and Marjorie Thomas, Jan McHenry, Jodi Fowler and the MOPS, the Reverend Ms.
Bobbie Hineline and the Mt. Pleasant Presbyterian Church,, Jerry and Lucille
Zawistowski, Barnadette, Larry and David Van Ollenfen and the Southeastern
Veterans Center.
Our needs remain unchanged. The top ten list includes body wash, luffas,
shaving cream, razors, replacement blades, hand sanitizer, deodorant,
toothbrushes, tuna fish and beef jerky.
Please keep the Brown and Boatman families in your prayers. Thank you for
all you do for us. May God bless you and our American soldiers, sailors,
airmen and marines. You're in my heart America, and I shall always be,
Faithfully Yours,
Chaplain(Major)Douglas A. Etter
HHC 1-110 IN, 2/28 BCT
Camp Habbaniyah
APO, AE 09381
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TWO THOUSAND ONE, NINE ELEVEN (2001-911) | Close |
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Two thousand one, nine eleven
Three thousand plus arrive in heaven
As they pass through the gate,
Thousands more appear in wait
A bearded man with stovepipe hat
Steps forward saying, "Lets sit, lets chat"
They settle down in seats of clouds
A man named Martin shouts out proud
"I have a dream!" and once he did
The Newcomer said, "Your dream still lives."
Groups of soldiers in blue and gray
Others in khaki, and green then say
"We're from Bull Run, Yorktown, the
Maine"
The Newcomer said, "You died not in vain."
From a man on sticks one could hear
"The only thing we have to fear.
The Newcomer said, "We know the rest,
Trust us sir, we've passed that test."
"Courage doesn't hide in caves
You can't bury freedom, in a grave,"
The Newcomers had heard this voice before
A distinct Yankees twang from Hyannisport shores
A silence fell within the mist
Somehow the Newcomer knew that this
Meant time had come for her to say
What was in the hearts of the five thousand
plus that day
"Back on Earth, we wrote reports,
Watched our children play in sports
Worked our gardens, sang our songs
Went to church and clipped coupons
We smiled, we laughed,
! we cried, we fought
Unlike you, great we're not"
The tall man in the stovepipe hat
Stood and said, "Don't talk like that!
Look at your country, look and see
You died for freedom, just like me"
Then, before them all appeared a scene
Of rubbled streets and twisted beams
Death, destruction, smoke and dust
And people working just 'cause they must
Hauling ash, lifting stones,
Knee deep in hell, but not alone
"Look! Blackman, Whiteman, Brownman, Yellowman
Side by side helping their fellow man!"
So said Martin, as he watched the scene
"Even from nightmares, can be born a dream."
Down below three firemen raised
The colors high into ashen haze
The soldiers above had seen it before
On
Iwo Jima back in '45
The man on sticks studied everything closely
Then shared his perceptions on what he saw mostly
"I see pain, I see tears,
I see sorrow -- but I don't see fear."
"You left behind husbands and wives
Daughters and sons and so many lives
Are suffering now because of this wrong
But look very closely. You're not really gone.
All of those people, even those who've never met you
All of their lives, they'll never forget you
Don't you see what has happened?
Don't you see what you've done?
You've brought them together, together as one.
With that the man in the stovepipe hat said
"Take my hand," and from there he led
Three thousand plus heroes, Newcomers to heaven
On this day, two thousand one, nine eleven
Author UNKNOWN |
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