Note: I wrote this a few years back. Yesterday was the anniversary of their deaths, and I wanted to share it again.
There aren't too many people that will understand this, but that's okay. They're not who I'm writing this for. Tomorrow is the anniversary. I've heard the words bittersweet used before, but there's nothing sweet about it. Matter of fact, bitter doesn't come close to describing the heartache that so many of us feel so deeply every day. You, like so many did your job without asking for anything more than the company of your fellow Marines. You lived every moment like the rest of us. Ten feet tall and bulletproof. You also knew how mortal you really were, although you never showed it. Through every fire fight. Through every incoming mortar, missile, arty round, and RPG, you had a look of stone. The only crack was the cocky smile on your faces after a close call. Among the most notable traits from both of you, was your professionalism and a sarcastic sense of humor. Both of these could be found whether you were eating chow or sending rounds down range. Some didn't know you as well as I did. Some knew you better. All I can say, is I wish I could have known you longer. It was different when Duane fell. We were in the middle of hell, locked in an AAV, and trying to stand tall all the while. We got the news, but there was no time to feel sorry for ourselves. There was work to be done. We had to carry on without you with clear heads and focus. I will never forget everything I saw in front of me that day in Iraq when I got the word that Duane was shot. I'll never forget the smell of the AAV or the look on the faces of my squad when they said you were gone. You were 20 yards away from me and there was nothing I could do. And I know the guys that were right there until your last breath did all they could for you. They'd have given their souls if it would have changed anything. When the helo cleared the expedient LZ and you were gone, it was hard to believe. Someone I looked up to had fallen. You never showed fear. Matter of fact, you were the shining example of what a Marine in combat SHOULD be. Steadfast resolve, and an attitude that would have made Chesty proud to call himself a Marine. I'll never forget the look on Rome's face when they came back from the Med-evac run. It was like a part of him left on the helo with you. We still used your weather forecast almost daily. "Today's forecast: Windy and shitty!". Who could forget that? Who could forget you pulling a braveheart and flashing your piece and screaming at us in front of the AAV after you were "using the ammo crate"? Always good times. I wish there would have been more.
I'll never forget the sunny day at the SASO training area outside March AFB when CWO3 Rosenbum was passing the word for the day and almost like I cursed the whole day, I asked, "Sir, any word from over there?" He said there was none. Within two minutes of him walking back into the trailer, I followed behind him and he told me to get everyone back together. He had some bad news from Iraq. I had the worst feeling that it would be someone I knew well. As everyone gathered, he said, "CPL Wining asked if there was any news from Iraq, and I said no. Well I was wrong. We lost another Marine in a fire fight. CPL Fey fell yesterday outside Fallujah." He stumbled over Fey's name but I knew exactly who he was talking about. My heart sank to a place I couldn't find. I know this because I couldn't feel it beating. I felt a rush of extreme heat over my body. Almost as if I was being consumed in a ball of flames. I stumbled backwards as my knees gave out and tried to hold myself up until the sir released us. the second he did, I walked as fast as I could around one of the Con-EX boxes, crouched down with my back against it, buried my head in my hands and tears streamed from my eyes at a rate I had never experienced. I bawled like a starved infant for longer than I can remember. One of our Staff Sergeants came over and crouched down next to me. I tried to dry it up but I could see his eyes were about as red as mine. A few seconds later, my good friend Mike Parades (or Dirty, as we call him) crouched down in front of me. He put his head next to mine and threw his hand behind my head to pull me into him. He was hurting just as badly as I was. It felt extremely selfish at that moment. There I was losing it over the loss of a friend, and at first, all i could think about was how much I was hurting. Maybe thoughts of his family flashed through my head. Maybe I thought about the Marines he was with when he fell. But overall, I thought about how much I would miss him. How I couldn't believe that God could take away someone like him. A few days later, myself, eleven other Marines, and the wife of one Marine who was in Iraq were in Eden Prairie, MN. Tyler's family and friends were amazing. They wouldn't let us stay in hotels. Not when there were houses all down the block, to include their own, with rooms for us to stay in. They took us in as family. Over the next few days, we laughed with, cried with , and remembered with them all the things that made Tyler the irreplaceable brother he was. Now, five years later, you are far from a fleeting memory to me and the rest of us that were lucky enough to be counted among those you called Brother. I have no doubt that your memory will live strong in all our minds until the day we, one by one, join you in guarding the gates of Heaven my brother.
I can recall so many things so vividly from those days. I've been told to let it go, or move on. I've never been asked to forget, but I think that letting go or moving on is about the same as forgetting. It's not just that I can't, but i won't. In some form, we have become what we have become to keep the fallen alive. I'm reminded of something I heard in a movie:
"Some of us will try to put back together the threads of an old life. The pieces have become too small. How do you go on? When in your heart you begin to understand there is no going back. There are some things that time cannot mend. Our hearts in too far a corner of the earth to get back. The only thing left to do is to look on knowing we will never be the same. Some memories burned too deep in our minds. They have taken hold. We cannot be like other men. We can only be what we have become. And what we have become are monsters to some. This is all we will ever be. Some scars run too deep to heal."
Okay, it's about time for me to stop babbling. I'll leave you with this poem:
These heroes are dead.
They died for liberty.
They died for us.
They are at rest.
They sleep in the land they made free.
Under the flag they rendered stainless.
Under the solemn pines, the sad hemlocks,
The tearful willows, and the embracing vines.
They sleep beneath the shadows of the clouds,
Careless alike of sunshine or of storm,
Each in the windowless place of rest.
Earth may run red with other wars,
They are at peace.
In the midst of battle,
In the roar of conflict,
They found the serenity of death.
I have one sentiment for soldiers living and dead:
CHEERS FOR THE LIVING, TEARS FOR THE DEAD
Duane Rios KIA April 4th, 2003
Tyler R. Fey - KIA April 4th, 2004
I'll see you both again someday
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