Our Heroes
22 September 2005
Captain Elizabeth Condon
TF Freedom - SGS
FOB Courage
APO AE 09334
While I truly love my new position, it is not without heartache. I attend each memorial service for every fallen comrade within Task Force Freedom (TFF) and those working in our operating area. In less than six weeks I have been present to honor thirteen heroes at their memorial ceremonies. I have not written because I had always written about the lighter side of being here and it was difficult to focus on those things. Finally I decided that I missed being in contact with you all so I better write, even if it is not pleasant.
The Public Affairs office records every memorial ceremony that takes place within TFF’s area of operation, I take the notes. I write down the details of the ceremony; what was said about each hero then send it to the family support network back in the United States along with a copy of the their biography. This information is important because someone from the TFF family network attends every burial throughout the United States regardless of where it is located. The notes provide the attendee with the particulars of the memorial ceremony and it helps when trying to connect with the grieving family.
The military memorial is a very powerful and moving ceremony. It is not a religious service – it is a ceremony. It is very traditional and very consistent within the brigades, yet each brigade does it just a little different. Two of the differences are the actual unit flag and the display. Some units place the display on a platform with the Flags crossed behind the display while others stand the flags upright. The choice of Prelude music, the way the program it typed out and what is specifically said about the soldier all vary a little between the brigades’ companies. Some units do a silent tribute while others do a “silent tribute” with Amazing Grace playing in the background. The 3rd Armored Cavalry Regiment always plays the soundtrack to the movie “Glory” (a movie about the Civil War) as the Prelude. The odd thing is, I used to play the same sound track to my soldiers back at Fort Drum before convoying out to the field for our training exercises.
The consistencies are the American Flag, the weapon pointing down with the identification (dog) tags hanging from it, with the helmet on top and the boots at its base. The sequence of ceremony events are always the same. The last roll call, the firing of volleys and taps end the ceremony. The Commanding General and Command Sergeant Major attend every memorial – which is not the case in some of the other operating areas. They sit in the front and when the ceremony is over they walk to pay their final respects, salute, say a silent prayer for the family and place their Task Force coin by the soldier’s boots. Each movement is in exact unison with each other.
The last roll call, the firing of volleys and taps used to rip me apart. It was all I could do from not have the tears stream down my face like a river, ever ounce of me was focused on not crying. The firing of the volleys would always startle me, each time I would flinch and my whole body would go numb for a moment. The smell of the gun powder would remind me of when I would go to the rifle range with my father and I would long for home. I remember being by myself standing in line to pay my final respects to my comrade. My heart would pound so hard in my chest, a very, very slow pounding that was so strong I honestly thought it was going to push through my ribs and explode through my chest cavity. I was barely able to breathe. I had to take very long slow deep breaths with every step closer just so that I could get air. With every step closer the pounding of my heart would become stronger and more intense. I would get nervous about whether or not I was doing the right thing: saluting properly, whether I should stand straight or bend down and touch the dog tags. I was afraid that if I touched the dog tags, I would get caught on them and that the whole display would fall over. It is heartbreaking to say but those days of nervousness and unknowing seem so long ago.
The ceremonies continue to be very solemn. The difference now is how I respond to them. I no longer hold my breath during the last roll call, although my chest still gets tight for that moment. I now know when the firing of volleys will begin and I am able to maintain my composure – I no longer flinch and instead of going entirely numb, it sends a quick shiver through my spine and up the back of my neck. When I walk to pay my last respects I walk with the Task Force Chaplain. He and I stand side by side at Parade Rest, come to the position of Attention, and then take our next step forward as we advance to pay our final tribute. During this time I rerun the stories that are told about the soldier in my mind and imagine him happily laughing. As we move forward and reach our destination, the Chaplain and I perform our facing moments and salute in unison. We bend down and take a knee; we take turns holding the Soldier’s dog tags in our palms wishing him and his family peace.
While every memorial is moving, I am able to make it through them these days without becoming emotional. It is the residual effect that gets me, it is never direct but I am sure the memorials have a lasting effect on me.
On September 22nd, I attended a memorial honoring four heroes. I started writing this letter that afternoon, now 72 hours later (Sept. 25th) I realize what amazing gifts all these fallen comrades have left me: Strength, Courage, Patience, Understanding, Acceptance and Peace. I am a more relaxed person. While I was always able to work through demanding situations, I find that I do not become agitated like I used to. I tend to laugh at the craziness of it all and know that we will get through it. I attribute this to the outstanding soldiers and leaders that I work with every day.
I know that while many people may never know these fallen heroes, they will always be honored and remembered by those that knew them and by those of us that were there and moved by them.
Elizabeth A. Condon
Captain, US Army
Secretary of the General Staff