12/27/2003 Archived Entry: "Evanescence"

The last time I talked to my brother was on Thursday, 04 Dec 03. He called right before my department's weekly staff meeting, and I stepped out into the hallway and talked to him for about twenty minutes. I almost didn't answer the phone, because the number that showed up in the CID field was strange--the prefix started with a 1, which I didn't think was possible--but I'm desperately glad that I did.

We skimmed over quite a bit of ground--he told me that he had recently re-qualified with his weapon, scoring Expert with the 240B. He thanked me again for buying and sending over a filled up 15GB iPod, and he told me that he slept every night listening to it. He also said that he was happy I'd put the entirety of Evanescence's "Fallen" onto the thing--he said that he'd never listened to them before, but that they'd quickly become one of his favorites.

We shot the shit for a few more minutes after that, talking about his homecoming. I'd planned to take him to Fogo de Ciao (link is Flash--sorry) when he got back, which is a Brazilian meat-on-swords buffet place. He was stoked about staying with Laura and me for a couple of weeks and being able to relax and see his friends and play some XBox.

I had to go back into the meeting, because I was on the agenda to present some stuff, so I had to let him go. I said that Laura and I prayed for him every night, and he thanked me. I said I loved him, and he told me that he loved me. I hung up.

He died three days later.

I don't have a lot of the agony that other people have when they lose a family member, because I got to talk to him and say everything that was in my heart, shortly before he was killed. I mean, there is still a huge amount of pain, and this is definitely the hardest thing I've ever had to go through, but there is peace, too. My brother was saved, and I know that I'll see him again after I die.

He was being fast-tracked toward promotion and had been told that he was going to be promoted to E-4 (Specialist) after he returned from leave. He was saving the news to tell us as a suprise when he got back. A promotion from E-3 to E-4 with only eighteen months of service under his belt is exceptional. He also had a spot waiting for him in Ranger school when he returned, and he was more excited about that than anything else. While in-country, he received two Army Commendation medals, one of which (this one) for taking command of his squad and providing leadership while involved at taking the bridges at An-Najaf.

Also while taking one of the bridges, his squad was ordered to pull back from their current position and occupy a different one. During the retreat, the squad leader--a sergeant whose name escapes me, but who attended my brother's funeral and told us about this--collapsed. He had been suffering from heat stroke and lost consciousness. The rest of the squad was retreating and fell back, but my brother saw that the man had gone down and ran back to where the sergeant had collapsed, and stood over him and laid down supressing fire at the advancing Iraqis with his M240B. He kept this up long enough for a medic to reach the sergeant and drag him to safety.

For this, my brother received the Bronze Star. The sergeant was allowed to leave Iraq and come to my brother's funeral and tell my family about this. He brought with him the thanks of his wife and infant son, because without my brother's actions, the sergeant would have been killed in the retreat.

The funeral was a day of high emotion. The newspapers and local TV can tell the story better than I can--hit the last two links for articles and video--but more than seven hundred people attended the memorial service, and more than a thousand came to the funeral. Jawa from the CoG boards was able to capture a large number of pictures from the event, for which I am grateful. The most incredible thing was the drive from the church to the cemetary--thousands of people, thousands, lined the road and waved flags and held signs. Fire brigades and EMS teams and police cars were parked at intersections, with firemen and EMTs and police standing at attention, saluting. The funeral procession had over two hundred and fifty cars. It was...supernal. I do not, nor will I ever, have the words to describe how extraordinary it was to see so many people paying their respects to my brother, the fallen soldier.

We have become great friends with PFC Anthony Catapano--"Cat", who was at my brother's side for more than a year as a squadmate. In fact, we've pretty much adopted him. He spoke at the memorial service and told us all that he and Ray Joseph made a promise to each other, that if anything were to happen to either of them, that the other would come back and take care of the family. Cat is standing by that promise. He and I call each other "brother", and I thank God in my prayers each night that we have been given such a wonderful addition to our family. He will never take my brother's place, of course--no one could--but hearing him talk and tell stories about my brother is both heartwrenching and happy.

So, that's it. Here I sit, with my brother buried for ten days, listening to Evanescence and typing up this entry. I will never be able to hear any of these songs without thinking of him, nor without having tears spring into my eyes.

God, oh my God, I love my brother. I miss him.

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