Some days you dread. Some days you hope will never arrive, or if they are inevitable, you hope you do not know exactly when that day will arrive or in what guise. Then there are days you dread and you know exactly when they are going to arrive. Following the deaths of SGT Holtom, SGT Clevenger, and PFC Werner, this day had become an inevitability: Memorial Day, 13 February 2007.
I awoke just before 0600, before my alarm went off. I was immediately wide awake, fully aware that this was going to be a day filled with emotion and I was doggedly determined to get through it with dignity and strength. I was determined to honor our fallen with the same professionalism they demonstrated on the field of battle.
Coffee made, I checked my email and the significant actions overnight to see if there was anything I need to be immediately aware of. Team Badger had been completely in the wire since early afternoon the previous day. There was nothing I needed to know.
The memorial was to be at 1015 in the Dining Facility. Memorial services on Camp Ramadi are always at the DFAC. One section has been set aside to be turned from a large dining room a hall for a ceremony whenever the need arises.
We needed to be there at 0900 for a full rehearsal. We had rehearsed the previous day, but we did not have the firing party. They rehearsed separately after they came back from a mission.
Those early morning hours flew by, filled with ordinary tasks. At 0850, I announced to the TOC, “I’m going to the DFAC. Let the First Sergeant know. I’ll see you all over there.”
“Roger that sir.”
Carrying what should be the final version of my remarks, I had a final few minutes alone to steel myself and reflect on the Soldiers we were getting ready to honor.
A five-minute walk and I was at the hall. Thanks to some very helpful people the room was almost completely set up.
The front of the room contained the display. In the center, there were three two-tier stands. M-16 rifles were inverted on bayonets and stuck into the upper tiers. The rifles were topped with Army Combat Helmets with camouflage coverings. Silver dog tags dangled from the rifles’ pistol grips. Dusty, well-worn, tan canvas boots were placed to create a V at the point where there bayonet entered the stand.
The lower tiers held the awards they have received. All three were awarded the Bronze Star for service, the Purple Heart for wounds received in combat, and the Combat Action Badge for engaging the enemy in close combat. Behind the stands, the Flag of the United States of America and the Battalion Colors stood crossed.
To the left were three large portraits of the fallen set up on easels. Further to the left, there was a speaker’s podium and seats for the Chaplain, the Task Force Commander, myself, the Platoon Leader, 3-6, and the three Soldiers who will speak about their fallen friends.
To the right of the center display stands was a large screen, now blank but soon would display a video tribute .
0900. We perfrom the final rehearsal. The mood is somber. The Company struggles between presenting a military demeanor and the overwelming grief we all feel. The rehearsal is executed well though and we are ready.
1000. With the rehearsal complete, the doors were opened. Generic instrumental funeral home music drifted from the loud speakers as people moved to their seats. The seats were arranged in two sets of 10-person fronts that extend back for at least 30 rows. Even with 600+ seats, the service was standing room only. I am both anxious for this to begin and dread it at the same time. When this is over we need to start getting on with our missions again and it all seems too fast.
1015. Everyone was in place. The Brigade Commander had arrived as had the Senior Commanders on Camp Ramadi. Time to execute the mission.
The Chaplain spoke first. He asked everyone to stand for the Invocation and said a few words about why we were there. He then asked us to remain standing for the National Anthem. Some of the services I have attended used recorded music. In our task force, we are fortunate to have an excellent singer who volunteered to do the National Anthem acapella. He gave a moving rendition.
Next, 3-6 (the Platoon Leader) delivered the Service Record of his three Soldiers. Sitting next to me, he stood and we subtly bumped fists as we do before every mission. Delivery of the Service Record can be tricky. The speaker needs to recite a sketch of the fallen’s life, place of birth, the circumstances that led to the Soldier’s entry into service, military education, awards and honors, the bare circumstances of the action leading to the Soldier’s death, the Soldier’s survivors. In this case, 3-6 had to do this three times. It is one of those things that can easily fall into a monotone statico that leaves the listener bored. About the only thing a speaker can do is to use inflection and change some words from person to person. 3-6 had rehearsed this and did it well. As he took his seat, we bumped fists again.
The Task Force Commander spoke next. A tough job anyway you slice it. He commands almost 800 Soldiers and his effort to get to know all them is overwhelmed by shear numbers. He took the time to learn as much about them as possible and talked with their loved ones. His comments are concise, appropriate, and well directed.
I was next. I started working on this speech the day we got back to Ramadi. I want to do this right. I have tried to talk about them as Soldiers and as men with familes and loved one’s back home. I have rehearsed this at least a dozen times to familiarize myelf with my material, both for good delivery and to make it the status quo so I will not break down delivering the speech.
And then, as quickly as I started, I am done. I kept my composure. I looked my Soldiers in the eyes and told them how we would go on as Soldiers, a family, friends, and by doing so how we honor the men for whom we gathered this day to remember.
After I sat down, it was time for their fellow Soldiers to talk about the men they knew. Three Soldiers, two Specialists and a Private First Class, prepared and rehearsed for this. To me this the most moving part of these memorial services. These young men, usually not experienced in public speaking, have the opportunity to lay out a memory of their friends and fellow Soldiers. Sometimes it is ribald and off-color, but it always true. I suppose this is what makes it real and what makes it special. All three of my Soldiers get through their remarks well and complete the mission.
An 8-minute video tribute prepared by 3rd Platoon played on the large screen. Set to Johnny Cash’s version of “Hurt” and “When I’m Gone” by 3 Doors Down.
The Chaplain took to the podium again and asked everyone to stand and he delivered the Benediction.
My First Sergeant, who has been an absolute rock through this entire event, and who deserves so much credit for the success of the company, strides purposefully to the front of the hall and begins the roll call.
“Private Brown.”
“Here, First Sergeant.”
“Specialist Jones.”
“Here, First Sergeant.”
“Sergeant Black.”
“Here, First Sergeant.” When he had called all the names of the Company Soldiers present, he called the names of the fallen.
“Private Werner.”
“Private First Class Raymond Werner.”
“Private First Class Raymond Mitchell Werner.”
“Sergeant Clevenger.”
“Sergeant Ross Clevenger.”
“Sergeant Ross Aaron Clevenger.”
“Sergeant Holtom.”
“Sergeant James Holtom.”
“Sergeant James Joseph Holtom.”
And the First Sergeant moved off.
“Firing party, fire three volleys,” came from the unseen firing party commander just outside the hall.
“Ready . . . Aim . . . Fire.”
CRACK
“Ready . . . Aim . . . Fire.”
CRACK
“Ready . . . Aim . . . Fire.”
CRACK
Then taps played by a bugler.
When taps came to a close, the Task Force Commander and the Task Force Command Sergeant Major moved to the front of the hall and render present arms to the displays with the inverted rifles. The Commander placed a Battalion Coin on one boot of each Soldier. They did a right face and moved off.
My First Sergeant and I walked toward the stands. As we closed in on the stands, with our backs to the crowd, I see a single small tear streak down his cheek, the only real emotion I have seen from my stoic right hand man. We presented arms. When we come to order arms, I moved forward and touched the helmets and the dog tags. I said goodbye and thank you.
I executed a right face and moved off to join the receiving line where I thanked everyone for coming. I think I hugged everyone in the company and much of the Task Force. The Company spent the rest of the day together, talking about our brothers. We rarely have the opportunity for all of us to be together in one place and we wanted to spend as much time together as possible. The next day we were back on mission.
