In the summer of 1995 I was given a choice that I didn't know was life or death.
I was a data systems analyst with the 33rd Fighter Wing out of Eglin Air Force Base, Florida. F-15Es. I tracked every break on every jet after the day's sorties, built the readiness reports, forecasted the trends from a little office right on the flight line. JP-8 in the morning air. Great people. I loved it.
In my off hours I served on the base Honor Guard. We carried the caskets of fallen service members, fired the 21-gun salute, and folded the flag into a tight triangle to hand to a mother, a widow, a child. I have looked a lot of grieving families in the eye. I did not yet understand how close I would come to being the reason someone folded a flag for me.
Late that summer I learned our unit was rotating to Saudi Arabia for Operation Southern Watch. They gave me a choice: deploy in January, or wait and go with the next rotation later in the year.
My boyfriend at the time—my husband now—told me to just get it over with and go in January, when the desert "only" hits 105 instead of 120. So I said yes.
The week before I shipped out, a quiet young Airman moved into the dorm room across the hall. A crew chief in my unit. We'd nod and say hey passing in the hallway but I never got the chance to really know him because we deployed the next week.
I did my 93 days in Dhahran, lived in Khobar Towers with hundreds of other Americans, came home that spring on a 24-hour C-130 ride, got engaged, went back to the beach and the good Florida weather and ordinary life.
My quiet neighbor deployed with the next rotation. The one I'd chosen not to be on.
Two weeks before that rotation was set to come home, terrorists bombed Khobar Towers. Nineteen American Airmen were killed. Twelve of them were ours, from the 33rd. One of them was the quiet crew chief from across the hall—Airman 1st Class Peter J. Morgera, 19 years old, from Stratham, New Hampshire.
Over the years I've wondered why my husband told me to go early. Why I came home and they didn't.
There is no tidy answer. What I have is a responsibility—to make sure they are not just a number. So today, say their names with me.
Eglin lost:
MSgt Kendall K. Kitson, Jr. — Yukon, OK
TSgt Daniel B. Cafourek — Watertown, SD
TSgt Patrick P. Fennig — Greendale, WI
TSgt Thanh Van Nguyen — Panama City, FL
SrA Earl F. Cartrette, Jr. — Sellersburg, IN
SrA Jeremy A. Taylor — Rose Hill, KS
Sgt Millard D. Campbell — Angleton, TX
A1C Brent E. Marthaler — Cambridge, MN
A1C Brian W. McVeigh — DeBary, FL
A1C Peter J. Morgera — Stratham, NH
A1C Joseph E. Rimkus — Edwardsville, IL
A1C Joshua E. Woody — Corpus Christi, TX
Memorial Day isn't about the ones who came home. It's about them. I get to be grateful only because they paid for it.
Say their names today. 🇺🇸
The bravest men America ever produced were never celebrities.
No followers. No podcasts. No fame.
Just rifles, brothers beside them, and a mission they were willing to die for.
Many never made it home.
Remember them today. 🇺🇸🙏
My friend, Scott “Scottie” Rose was killed in Iraq in November 2003.
Scottie’s first and only daughter was born while he was deployed.
He never got to hold her.
Miss you Scottie. ✝️🇺🇸💕
Day 5 of Remembrance: Today is Memorial Day. It is a somber holiday as we mourn, honor and remember the U.S. military personnel who made the ultimate sacrifice. Today I remember Maj Douglas A. Zembiec, USMC, famously known as the “Lion of Fallujah.”
- Rank and Unit: Major (O-4). CIA Ground Branch. Doug earned his reputation as a Captain commanding Echo Company, 2nd Battalion, 1st Marines (2/1) during the 2004 Battle of Fallujah.
- Date & Location: Killed in action on May 11, 2007, in Baghdad (Sadr City area), Iraq.
- Circumstances: While serving with the CIA’s Special Activities Division (Ground Branch) on his fourth tour, he was leading a raid with Iraqi forces he had trained. Killed by small-arms fire in close combat; he warned his team to take cover, saving others at the cost of his life. Initial report: “five wounded and one martyred.”
- Background: 34 years old, from Albuquerque, New Mexico. USNA graduate, wrestler, Force Recon Marine. Legendary for aggressive, inspirational leadership in Fallujah (e.g., climbing on a tank under fire to direct guns).
- Honors: Silver Star, Bronze Star with Valor, Purple Heart (2). Buried at Arlington National Cemetery. His story is widely told in Marine lore.
Eternal rest grant unto Doug, O Lord, And let perpetual light shine upon him.
“Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, ‘Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?’ And I said, “Here am I. Send me!”
~ Isaiah 6:8
This Memorial Day, we Americans remember the brave men and women who answered that same call. I wore this scripture on a chain around my neck for 20 years.
They heard the voice of duty — of God and country — and said, “Send me.” They left homes, families, and futures behind to defend liberty on distant battlefields.
Some never returned. Their sacrifice was total. Their “Here am I” became eternal.
Today we honor their courage, their faith, and the freedom they secured for us. We owe them a debt we can never fully repay — only remember and live worthy of.
To every Gold Star family, every veteran who carried the weight: Thank you.
May we never forget those who said “Send me”… and meant it with their lives.🙏✝️
Goodnight, ya’ll.
August 1, 2005.
Daniel “Nate” Deyarmin Jr. had just turned 22.
He loved dirt bikes, restoring cars, making people laugh, and dreaming about the future waiting for him back home.
Instead of planning his next weekend, he was walking the streets outside Haditha, Iraq, beside his fellow Marines.
Then came enemy fire.
Six Marines never made it home that day.
People see names carved into stone. Families see birthdays that never came, empty chairs that never got filled, and futures that were never lived.
Nate believed in his country. He loved being a Marine. He answered a call bigger than himself.
Heroes don’t die when their hearts stop beating. They live on in the freedom others still get to enjoy.
Never forgotten. Semper Fi.
Please help me honor Raban Anthony Kimungu. He was one of my closest brothers and one of the best human beings to ever grace this planet. His aura and compassion were contagious. He was shot in the head by the Fallujah sniper in 2005. He survived and chose to come back from Germany to Fallujah to finish his deployment. But he died a few months later. His loss robbed the planet of a truly amazing human being.
My friend, Sgt Christopher S. Perez, KIA on 23rd May 2005, Ramadi, Iraq.
Rocket attack on our base camp.
He was hit in the chest by a piece of shrapnel, while the blast of the explosion knocked me down.
It should have been me instead of him.
He was one damn good Marine.
Miss him a lot.
Cpl Ramona Valdez and Lcpl Holly Charette.
Both killed on 23rd June 2005 in Fallujah Iraq when a suicide car bomber hit the 7 ton troop personnel carrier that they both were on.
Valdez was a radio operator and Charette was our mail clerk.
Both good Marines.
This Memorial Day weekend I would like to honor a friend of mine Captain Phil Dykeman. We served together as NCO's with 3rd Battalion 2nd Marines. Phil later was commissioned as an officer. In 2008, he was killed in a suicide attack in Karmah, Iraq.
RIP brother🇺🇸🙏
So I watched "The Passion of the Christ" last night. And I am on my back deck tonight thinking.
Think about this.
In the movie, they have beaten him to near death and when they first take him to his cross, Jesus clings to it, and the thief chastised him for embracing his own cross. Mocking him for doing so.
Then Christ gave all he had to carry that cross which weighed as much as him.. They beat him while he did. It came to the point that his physical body couldn't carry it any longer, so a man was ordered to carry it with him. Yet Christ still clung to the cross.
Do you know why?
Because he knew at the other end of that short journey was OUR freedom. Not his.... OURS..... with every single step, with every drop of blood, with every single tear, he knew he was one moment closer to being at the right hand of the Father and his mission complete to free us all.
The man embraced the cross. Begged God to forgive the men nailing him to it. Begged God to forgive those that had beaten him with whips and canes and hammered a crown of thorns on his head.
He embraced it all.... for US......
And now, when times get hard and life gets even slightly uncomfortable, we claim that "God isn't listening and won't take my burden" as if we even know what a real burden is...
How many times would we cling to the proverbial cross for another and suffer as he did to free them from the pain? Would we ever do it at all? Maybe for our own child? Maybe?
As you lay down tonight, pray a prayer of thanks. Not for the normal things. Not tonight. Tonight, pray a special prayer of thanks that he held on to that cross and carried it as far as his mortal body would allow... because that took more dedication than any of us could give for anyone.
By the time you wake up in the morning, he will have risen, 2000 years ago. He will have beat death. 2000 years ago, all the sin you and I will ever commit was paid for because he clung to that cross like it was a lifeline.... not for him... But for you and me.
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