Memorial Ceremony for the Blackhawk Crew Killed Last Week
Thread Starter
Memorial Ceremony for the Blackhawk Crew Killed Last Week
A young Lady Blackhawk Pilot in Afghanistan sent me this message today.
I have encouraged her to keep a Journal and record her experiences as in the future she would get great use of them when she looked back over her Deployment.
I think her thoughts contained should be shared as those of us who have experienced combat or who have lost friends and comrades in arms to aircraft crashes would appreciate what she puts into words so eloquently.
I will freely admit when I first heard there was a Blackhawk down and the entire crew was lost....I worried greatly she might have been involved. When she checked back in with me....despite knowing others had been killed....I was so relieved to know it was not her. It matters not in the end who was lost as they were just as loved and cherished by others as this young lady is by her friends and family and will be grieved for just as every person we lose to such events.
Her account got the tears to flowing....I have to admit it. She is so right when she says our feelings of grief get more complicated over time. I still miss those I flew with that were taken way too soon.
I have encouraged her to keep a Journal and record her experiences as in the future she would get great use of them when she looked back over her Deployment.
I think her thoughts contained should be shared as those of us who have experienced combat or who have lost friends and comrades in arms to aircraft crashes would appreciate what she puts into words so eloquently.
I will freely admit when I first heard there was a Blackhawk down and the entire crew was lost....I worried greatly she might have been involved. When she checked back in with me....despite knowing others had been killed....I was so relieved to know it was not her. It matters not in the end who was lost as they were just as loved and cherished by others as this young lady is by her friends and family and will be grieved for just as every person we lose to such events.
Her account got the tears to flowing....I have to admit it. She is so right when she says our feelings of grief get more complicated over time. I still miss those I flew with that were taken way too soon.
Gone, Never Forgotten
December 21, 2013 at 10:24am
This morning I was privileged to attend one of the most painful, devastating, and yet poetically beautiful displays, honoring the five men from our Brigade who lost their lives earlier this week. The memorial was exactly as it should have been.
Two nights ago, my company's communications girl Lindsey and i walked back from the gym together, and talked about the ramp ceremony the day before. The ramp ceremony is where the bodies of the fallen are transferred to the aircraft that will take them home in flag-draped coffins. I had been flying, and hadn't been able to attend-- but Lindsey told me that while she tried to maintain her bearing, something in her just broke.
I now know exactly what she meant.
Nigel and I came into the hangar together, and walked over to an empty spot on the side where we could watch the service. As we walked to the side, a Chaplain I'd never met greeted me with a handshake and a hug, and looked straight into my eyes, "Good morning Miss XXXXXXXX , thank you for coming." The cool that I thought I could keep snapped into a million pieces. It was like he was telling me it was alright to let down the facade of "okay" that I'd been maintaining, along with a thousand other people. I gulped a thank you, and turned to the front as he moved on.
A few of our friends and Soldiers from our company came in and joined us. We were early, and stood there for about 30 minutes, taking in the solemnity of the scene. At the front of the hangar were five helmets-- four flight-- one kevlar, five sets of dog tags, boots, and pictures of each of our fallen heroes. Alongside these were giant "hero pictures" of the deceased. Their company stood at one side of the display.
Beautiful piano music filled the hangar with remembrance, and calm. We watched as people filed in, the place filled up quickly, and I remember thinking it was the first time I'd been in a room with several hundred Soldiers, and no one was cracking a single joke. High ranking Officers, followed by their Sergeant Major's walked in, shaking hands, hugging, and took their places. The fallen men's company, our CP neighbors, milled around the far side of the hangar. Red eyed, exhausted, weary and grief-stricken. My own commander's husband, who was their commander, looked as though he hadn't slept in a week. Neither of them had.
After about thirty minutes, the Chaplain who had greeted me stepped to the podium, and asked that all phones be turned off to maintain the dignity of the memorial service. Moments later he began the service with an invocation, or prayer. Every head in the room bowed, and the universal slow tears began. The Brigade Commander gave a short speech, followed by the company commander.
Then five men stood up and shared stories about each man who died. The first to stand up is a guy I'm friends with-- I don't see very often, but he's always smiling. In fact, this was the first time that I've seen him without an ear to ear grin.
He had arrived at Ft. Riley the same time as Randy Billings. His voice shook very slightly as he told us about their families attending a 4th of July rodeo the summer before we deployed. He grimaced as he recalled that when they asked everyone in the crowd who had served in the military to stand-- how Randy's wife had no success in getting either of them to stand and be recognized-- because neither thought they'd done anything to deserve the honor of recognition. The irony wasn't lost on any of us, and at that point, I stopped wiping away the tears.
Each man related stories of unique, loving, compassionate individuals and Soldiers, many with wives and children, who cared fiercely for their families, both military and nuclear. A very young PFC got up to talk about SPC Gordon, and couldn't keep his voice from breaking throughout his tribute with unfettered grief. After the personal eulogies were complete, we prayed again. A lone set of bagpipes played Amazing Grace, followed by Taps, and a 21-gun salute that shook all of us to the core.
The military honors continued.
Small groups of men and women quietly marched to the display. Each group of 2-5 Soldiers gave a slow salute, some knelt to pray, some grasped each set of dog tags hanging from their rifles, some left unit patches, name patches, IR flags, coins, and other mementos of love for their fallen brothers. There was no sense of urgency, and literally hundreds of people needed to say good bye.
The first to pay their respects were those closest to these men, along with the Chaplains, and they came to stand directly in front of us, in a receiving line of sorts. Each and every Soldier walked over to shake hands, and sometimes embrace these men and women, uttering condolences and taking comfort in the shared grief. I stood there for over an hour, watching helplessly as some of the strongest men I've ever met walked by, tears streaming down their faces, some looking lost and broken, not knowing how to feel or what to do.
My mind swept back to flight school, the hundreds of men and handful of women, all with the same glint of excitement in our eyes as we took our first nickel rides.. solos… autos… the checks in the blocks that each led us closer to our airframe selection. Selection day, the excitement as we called out "60's!". That first brilliant feeling of graceful power as you gingerly pulled her collective. Feeling all that those beautiful horses lifting you almost effortlessly into the heavens.
Each hour of flight training carried you closer, and closer to that glorious day, when your hero would pin those beautiful silver wings on your chest and you'd earn the title "Black Hawk Pilot." Then getting to your unit, and realizing you were finally living that dream you'd spent what seemed like your whole life working towards.
All the blood, sweat and tears paid off tenfold every time you flew her. Like therapy, the Black Hawk could get take you out of the lowest place, level you off, bring you back to Earth, and right all that was wrong in the world. We all walked the same path to get here, dreamed the same dreams-- literally and figuratively. I can't wrap my brain around this.
The sense of loss, of sadness, it was tangible, terrible. I've never felt truly numb, but today, I felt it. Strange how you never think of how to prepare your mind for loss. A few days ago it was almost Christmas, now its just December, lets get through the rest of this, and bring everybody home.
I've prayed more times this week, than I think I have in two years. I still don't know how I'm supposed to feel. I didn't know them well, though we were next door to them, so it almost feels wrong or even presumptuous in a way, to feel this much. Someone close to me told me my feelings of grief will only get more complicated with time. My hand shook as I gave my own slow salute, the man next to me calling cadence for the group, since I knew my voice would be too soft for the rest to hear.
At the end of the day, five men are gone, but not forgotten, by their families, and every Soldier in 1CAB. Rest in Peace Brothers.
December 21, 2013 at 10:24am
This morning I was privileged to attend one of the most painful, devastating, and yet poetically beautiful displays, honoring the five men from our Brigade who lost their lives earlier this week. The memorial was exactly as it should have been.
Two nights ago, my company's communications girl Lindsey and i walked back from the gym together, and talked about the ramp ceremony the day before. The ramp ceremony is where the bodies of the fallen are transferred to the aircraft that will take them home in flag-draped coffins. I had been flying, and hadn't been able to attend-- but Lindsey told me that while she tried to maintain her bearing, something in her just broke.
I now know exactly what she meant.
Nigel and I came into the hangar together, and walked over to an empty spot on the side where we could watch the service. As we walked to the side, a Chaplain I'd never met greeted me with a handshake and a hug, and looked straight into my eyes, "Good morning Miss XXXXXXXX , thank you for coming." The cool that I thought I could keep snapped into a million pieces. It was like he was telling me it was alright to let down the facade of "okay" that I'd been maintaining, along with a thousand other people. I gulped a thank you, and turned to the front as he moved on.
A few of our friends and Soldiers from our company came in and joined us. We were early, and stood there for about 30 minutes, taking in the solemnity of the scene. At the front of the hangar were five helmets-- four flight-- one kevlar, five sets of dog tags, boots, and pictures of each of our fallen heroes. Alongside these were giant "hero pictures" of the deceased. Their company stood at one side of the display.
Beautiful piano music filled the hangar with remembrance, and calm. We watched as people filed in, the place filled up quickly, and I remember thinking it was the first time I'd been in a room with several hundred Soldiers, and no one was cracking a single joke. High ranking Officers, followed by their Sergeant Major's walked in, shaking hands, hugging, and took their places. The fallen men's company, our CP neighbors, milled around the far side of the hangar. Red eyed, exhausted, weary and grief-stricken. My own commander's husband, who was their commander, looked as though he hadn't slept in a week. Neither of them had.
After about thirty minutes, the Chaplain who had greeted me stepped to the podium, and asked that all phones be turned off to maintain the dignity of the memorial service. Moments later he began the service with an invocation, or prayer. Every head in the room bowed, and the universal slow tears began. The Brigade Commander gave a short speech, followed by the company commander.
Then five men stood up and shared stories about each man who died. The first to stand up is a guy I'm friends with-- I don't see very often, but he's always smiling. In fact, this was the first time that I've seen him without an ear to ear grin.
He had arrived at Ft. Riley the same time as Randy Billings. His voice shook very slightly as he told us about their families attending a 4th of July rodeo the summer before we deployed. He grimaced as he recalled that when they asked everyone in the crowd who had served in the military to stand-- how Randy's wife had no success in getting either of them to stand and be recognized-- because neither thought they'd done anything to deserve the honor of recognition. The irony wasn't lost on any of us, and at that point, I stopped wiping away the tears.
Each man related stories of unique, loving, compassionate individuals and Soldiers, many with wives and children, who cared fiercely for their families, both military and nuclear. A very young PFC got up to talk about SPC Gordon, and couldn't keep his voice from breaking throughout his tribute with unfettered grief. After the personal eulogies were complete, we prayed again. A lone set of bagpipes played Amazing Grace, followed by Taps, and a 21-gun salute that shook all of us to the core.
The military honors continued.
Small groups of men and women quietly marched to the display. Each group of 2-5 Soldiers gave a slow salute, some knelt to pray, some grasped each set of dog tags hanging from their rifles, some left unit patches, name patches, IR flags, coins, and other mementos of love for their fallen brothers. There was no sense of urgency, and literally hundreds of people needed to say good bye.
The first to pay their respects were those closest to these men, along with the Chaplains, and they came to stand directly in front of us, in a receiving line of sorts. Each and every Soldier walked over to shake hands, and sometimes embrace these men and women, uttering condolences and taking comfort in the shared grief. I stood there for over an hour, watching helplessly as some of the strongest men I've ever met walked by, tears streaming down their faces, some looking lost and broken, not knowing how to feel or what to do.
My mind swept back to flight school, the hundreds of men and handful of women, all with the same glint of excitement in our eyes as we took our first nickel rides.. solos… autos… the checks in the blocks that each led us closer to our airframe selection. Selection day, the excitement as we called out "60's!". That first brilliant feeling of graceful power as you gingerly pulled her collective. Feeling all that those beautiful horses lifting you almost effortlessly into the heavens.
Each hour of flight training carried you closer, and closer to that glorious day, when your hero would pin those beautiful silver wings on your chest and you'd earn the title "Black Hawk Pilot." Then getting to your unit, and realizing you were finally living that dream you'd spent what seemed like your whole life working towards.
All the blood, sweat and tears paid off tenfold every time you flew her. Like therapy, the Black Hawk could get take you out of the lowest place, level you off, bring you back to Earth, and right all that was wrong in the world. We all walked the same path to get here, dreamed the same dreams-- literally and figuratively. I can't wrap my brain around this.
The sense of loss, of sadness, it was tangible, terrible. I've never felt truly numb, but today, I felt it. Strange how you never think of how to prepare your mind for loss. A few days ago it was almost Christmas, now its just December, lets get through the rest of this, and bring everybody home.
I've prayed more times this week, than I think I have in two years. I still don't know how I'm supposed to feel. I didn't know them well, though we were next door to them, so it almost feels wrong or even presumptuous in a way, to feel this much. Someone close to me told me my feelings of grief will only get more complicated with time. My hand shook as I gave my own slow salute, the man next to me calling cadence for the group, since I knew my voice would be too soft for the rest to hear.
At the end of the day, five men are gone, but not forgotten, by their families, and every Soldier in 1CAB. Rest in Peace Brothers.
SASLess,
Having talked about this remarkable lady with you, can I first express my relief that she's unscathed and secondly to thank you for posting her comments; we've all had the emotion of days like that.
Thanks for posting.
Having talked about this remarkable lady with you, can I first express my relief that she's unscathed and secondly to thank you for posting her comments; we've all had the emotion of days like that.
Thanks for posting.
Thread Starter
She has come a long way in a very short time in the Army.....my generation just doesn't fully understand sending our "daughters" off to War. As I have listened to her over the past couple of Years, it has been an interesting progression from College Girl....to Combat Helicopter Pilot. As I told her earlier.....I am so sad she has had the occasion to be confronted with this kind of experience but I am so proud of the way she handled it. Her account connected in so many ways.
We are so blessed to be able to serve with such wonderful people. It makes what we do special in ways those who do not serve cannot fully understand.
I have not met this young Lady.....and when I heard the news of the crash....I was filled with worry about her well being. What families go through when such news is heard just doesn't bear thinking about.....as they are the ones that have so much to lose if it is their loved ones involved.
The feeling of relief when they are spared the worst has got to be a moment filled with joy but at the same time filled with guilt that they are glad it was some one else's child or husband, father, wife or mother that was lost and theirs was not.
All this made our talk of Christmas Gifts, Christmas Care Packages, and the other things we had been talking about seem more important somehow. She had been providing me names of Troops that were short on support from back home...who get little or no mail, and I had passed along those names to some folks I know that send packages, cards, notes, and letters.
I thought it would be a nice gesture to pass along her account as she does say it so well.
We are so blessed to be able to serve with such wonderful people. It makes what we do special in ways those who do not serve cannot fully understand.
I have not met this young Lady.....and when I heard the news of the crash....I was filled with worry about her well being. What families go through when such news is heard just doesn't bear thinking about.....as they are the ones that have so much to lose if it is their loved ones involved.
The feeling of relief when they are spared the worst has got to be a moment filled with joy but at the same time filled with guilt that they are glad it was some one else's child or husband, father, wife or mother that was lost and theirs was not.
All this made our talk of Christmas Gifts, Christmas Care Packages, and the other things we had been talking about seem more important somehow. She had been providing me names of Troops that were short on support from back home...who get little or no mail, and I had passed along those names to some folks I know that send packages, cards, notes, and letters.
I thought it would be a nice gesture to pass along her account as she does say it so well.
