It is a historical constant that as a man’s age increases, so too does his list of those for whom he mourns. By the law of averages, someone at age 50 is missing lost grandparents, parents, and old friends. A 60-year-old has lost more people.When I enlisted in the Army National Guard, I accepted the increased risk to myself, and training for reacting to direct and indirect fire, assaulting a fixed position, and breaching a wire obstacle further prepared me for the possibility that I might be killed in the service. Nobody prepared me for the burden of losing good soldiers with whom I served.Sgt. Seth Garceau was a heavy equipment operator in my combat engineer company. I didn’t train with him much, but one summer he and I drove a big Army truck from Fort Riley, Kansas, back to Davenport, Iowa. I was nervous about handling the thing, especially in civilian traffic. But Garceau helped me. He had this great “aw shucks” smile. Everybody liked him. In late February 2005, while I was looking forward to returning home from Afghanistan, Garceau’s vehicle was blasted by an IED in Iraq. He held on for a few days, but finally died in a hospital in Germany.
Staff Sgt. LeRoy Webster was part of the mortar squad on our outpost in western Afghanistan in 2004 and 2005. He had been on deployment, guarding a nerve gas destruction operation in Indiana. Less than six months later, he volunteered for our deployment. Webster and his guys would fire these loud mortars. They loved sending rounds downrange. They covered guard shifts and patrolled the province too. I didn’t serve very closely with Webster, but he was a good guy.
