Three Years Later

Three years ago is a night that is seared in my memory not only for the tragedy, but also for the heroism of some Corpsmen as well as the amazing ability of Marines and Sailors to care for each other and the families of those with whom they serve. While it was the worst single night of my career, the aftermath is probably one of the most rewarding experiences of my life in seeing just what it means to love others.

Ripp, Josh, Joshua, Billy, Rog, Mason, and David you are not forgotten, you are the Walking Dead. Di Bo Chet!

Here are my thoughts from the first anniversary here on this space:

Personally, I am grateful for not having any night vision goggles that night. If I had some I would have been down range following my Marines and would have been close enough to the blast that at a minimum I would have spent some time in the hospital. The individual with whom I ran the two previous day range events was seriously injured and I was always within arms reach of him.

I learned what secondary trauma looks and feels like. I wasn't on the hill, but I can tell you exactly what it looked like, what it smelled like and what happened in all of its tragic detail. I learned just how surreal it is to know the full story and less than 12 hours later seeing CNN leading the news talking about and making some crazy guesses about what happened.

I miss Josh, Billy, Ripp, Mason, Joshua, David and Rog. We all do. They were good men. Their families raised them right and were so gracious and loving towards us as we all grieved together at many funerals over the span of a week.

But, what I didn't expect was to find so much beauty in the midst of all that carnage. I saw bravery and heroism that we don't speak much of in peacetime and training. There are Marines and Sailors that are here who wouldn't have made it without the quick thinking of those on the scene and due to the amazing leadership and training of the Battalion Surgeon.

I saw communities pour out their hearts for their lost sons and welcome their brothers in arms as if we had grown up right alongside them. I saw people lining a highway for 50 miles to honor someone they never met, people pulling over to the side of the road just to nod to those of us in a long processional. I saw a funeral crowd for a Lance Corporal that surprised and briefly overwhelmed the staff at Arlington.

That night and the events that followed impacted me and made me a better chaplain, a better minister and a better person.

I leave you with the memorial remarks at the two memorial services; one at Bridgeport and one at Camp Lejeune.  

Two Years Ago

I wasn't really aware of how long it has been since I posted something here until I got on to post something about that night two years ago in Hawthorne, NV. Guess I need to pay more attention when I am actually in port and not on a government computer and able to post.

Anyway, today was a special day not just because it is a day in which all of the Deadwalkers from 1/9 remember our seven brothers lost in a mortar explosion. Today, one of the Corpsmen from that night was awarded the Navy and Marine Corps Medal for his bravery and actions that night. This is the highest award for heroism displayed in peacetime.

On that night, Ian was severely injured by the blast. So much so that he is still recovering from his wounds and has endured multiple surgeries to rebuild his face. Despite his significantly more severe injuries, he repeatedly waved off efforts of others to assist him directing them to his injured Marines. If fact, his airway was blocked and he intubated himself to open the airway, thus saving his own life. I can't even imagine enduring his trauma, much less having the clarity of mind to perform a life saving technique on anyone, including myself.

I didn't get to speak with him that night as he was one of eight Marines and Sailors airlifted to Reno, NV for treatment. However, I was able to speak with him a few days later when he was in between a few surgeries. I walked into his room to check on how he was doing and if there was anything he needed from me or anyone else. Before I could finish saying hello, he had written on a sheet of paper. How are you doing? Corpsman to the core of his being.

The next time I visited two days later, he had an iPad and was rapidly communicating via technology and had been contacted by one of his heroes. Ian, like myself, is from the Triangle and WRAL had done a story on him and alluded to his actions and it came up that he was a huge Duke fan (of course this sat well with his Duke graduate chaplain). Well, Coach K got word of this and personally called Ian's hospital room and spoke with him for a few minutes and promised him the game ball from their upcoming NCAA tournament game and I think also provided him a jersey from that game as well. Small tributes for a outsized man.

I am glad I get to know and work with men and women such as this Devil Doc. He is a Deadwalker to the core.

I got to see photos of him receiving his medal today and am proud of him and his progress towards a full recovery.

One Year Later

This is a time of year when many people are recovering from their celebration of St Patrick last night. However, this time of year is one of reflection for me and many other Marines and Sailors who were with the Walking Dead in Hawthorne, NV.

Personally, I am grateful for not having any night vision goggles that night. If I had some I would have been down range following my Marines and would have been close enough to the blast that at a minimum I would have spent some time in the hospital. The individual with whom I ran the two previous day range events was seriously injured and I was always within arms reach of him.

I learned what secondary trauma looks and feels like. I wasn't on the hill, but I can tell you exactly what it looked like, what it smelled like and what happened in all of its tragic detail. I learned just how surreal it is to know the full story and less than 12 hours later seeing CNN leading the news talking about and making some crazy guesses about what happened.

I miss Josh, Billy, Ripp, Mason, Joshua, David and Rog. We all do. They were good men. Their families raised them right and were so gracious and loving towards us as we all grieved together at many funerals over the span of a week.

But, what I didn't expect was to find so much beauty in the midst of all that carnage. I saw bravery and heroism that we don't speak much of in peacetime and training. There are Marines and Sailors that are here who wouldn't have made it without the quick thinking of those on the scene and due to the amazing leadership and training of the Battalion Surgeon.

I saw communities pour out their hearts for their lost sons and welcome their brothers in arms as if we had grown up right alongside them. I saw people lining a highway for 50 miles to honor someone they never met, people pulling over to the side of the road just to nod to those of us in a long processional. I saw a funeral crowd for a Lance Corporal that surprised and briefly overwhelmed the staff at Arlington.

That night and the events that followed impacted me and made me a better chaplain, a better minister and a better person.

I leave you with the memorial remarks at the two memorial services; one at Bridgeport and one at Camp Lejeune.  

Faith and Leadership

This is the link to a reflection piece I wrote following the tragedy in Hawthorne, NV:

http://www.faithandleadership.com/content/russ-ferguson-beauty-the-midst-chaos-and-carnage

Bridgeport Memorial Service

We held a memorial service out at Bridgeport, CA a few days after the accident that took the lives of seven of our Marines. Due to the lack of computer time, I had to write out my comments and as tends to happen Mr. Murphy showed up and the motivated Marines that immediately returned the podium to its rightful place removed my notes with said podium. So I had to wait for the DVD to transcribe what I said that evening and today with NMCI down for the count I had the opportunity to listen and type at the same time. Below is what I said in the immediate aftermath of the tragedy and sets the stage for what I said last week at the public memorial service. I publish these remarks today as the families of 1/9 were not afforded the opportunity to attend this service and may never get their hands on one of the DVDs.

What now? Other than why, that is probably the most frequent question I hear and the one that is probably the most prominent on the mind of everyone in this hangar. Where do we go from here? What do we do? What do we say to our friends, the families, to each other? This is my take. We get through this and we go on together. But that is easier said than done. So, what now?

First, we remember. We come together tonight and hear stories that remind us of the treasures that we lost. We go to an airport and help our brothers start their long journey home. We laugh and joke about them over a beer. But we must remember that we can never drink Monday night away. It will always be with us so we remember together than to attempt to forget alone. We also need to remember the heroic acts of people sitting with us tonight and people in hospital rooms in Reno. They saved lives.

We heal together. Remembering allows space for our emotions to run. Talking together eases our pain and soothes the wounds. You do not need me or the OSCAR to heal. But if you need to talk with one of us, I am always here for you. As the pain fades, we can acknowledge what happened and then we can see the moments of beauty among the chaos and carnage. I knew this battalion had started to heal at about 1300 on Tuesday. When I saw a crowd gathering and I thought it was the First Sergeants giving a brief about the movement plan to get on the buses. As I walked up I saw it wasn’t a First Sergeant led brief, actually no one was talking. People were walking up and putting stuff on the hillside. As I got closer I saw that the 81’s platoon had started a memorial of rocks they had written on. By the time I got there people were putting their ranks on the memorial. I have told everyone that at that moment, I knew we were going to get through this together. This kind of healing lets us tell the stories of Ripp, Josh, Joshua, Rog, David, Mason and Billy.

And we live. We honor our fallen by living a full and vibrant life. WE let their stories meld into our stories and we carry on their dreams. WE make their families ours and incorporate them into our lives. We don’t let defeat us. We show death that it is not worth being our enemy. Because life is our friend. Death pisses us off, so we fight death by helping others to live it. Live the life those we send off on the angel flight wants us to live. If that guides us the memory of Josh, Joshua, Mason, Rog, David, Billy and Ripp will never be forgotten.

Remembering Seven Fallen Brothers

Yesterday morning we held a memorial service at Camp Lejeune for the seven Marines we lost in a mortar explosion while training in Hawthorne, NV. For all the 1/9 families and friends that were unable to attend, as is my tradition (which I really would like to never have to do), here are my remarks from the service:

Five weeks ago, our lives changed forever. Nothing can change that. Nothing can erase that day. It was a night of chaos and carnage that gave way to a day of beauty and courage. I don’t want to forget that night, I couldn’t even if I wanted to. We owe it to Ripp, Josh, Joshua, Billy, Rog, Mason and David to remember that night. But, we owe it to them to remember not just the tragic but also the good and heroic. And what better way to honor the events of March 18^th and the men of Hawthorne than to reflect on what it means to be a Deadwalker.

Most normal people would recoil at the prospect of joining an organization nicknamed the Walking Dead. That or they would think it’s just a fan club of the TV show where they could hunt zombies. Like many of you, when I received word I was coming to 1/9 I went to the two sources of all information, Google and Wikipedia, to learn the history of my new unit. After reading the history of the unit and discovering the unit called themselves the Walking Dead, I found the name a bit morbid and chalked it and the Grim Reaper logo up to the infantry obsession with skulls. And two years ago, like many outside our unit, I would have thought it odd to call someone a good Deadwalker. But, after March 18^th we know there is honor and deep meaning in wearing the title of Deadwalker.

So what does it mean to lay claim to the name Deadwalker? What sets us apart from other people? Other units? For the guests who aren’t familiar with the unit’s history, our name came from the time those who walked before us spent in Vietnam. After a particularly difficult and brutal battle we had suffered the worst day for the Corps in Vietnam both in sheer numbers and in percentage of casualties. One Viet Cong General reportedly stated that we were never going to win and were essentially walking towards our death and burial and called us the Walking Dead. That nickname was even broadcast over Vietnamese propaganda radio by the infamous Hanoi Hanna encouraging us to go ahead and die. We embraced that name, but not in the way they expected. They had no clue what made up a member of the Walking Dead. Even death itself cannot defeat a Deadwalker.

          

Today we remember seven men who embodied everything it means to be a part of the Walking Dead. As you have heard from many others today, these seven Marines weren’t just great Marines, they were outstanding young men who had much to offer the world. They had already made a positive difference here in the unit as well as their communities back home. These men looked death in the face on the night of March 18^th and just grinned because they knew death wasn’t getting the final say in their lives.

        

Death will always lose when it is up against infantry Marines that are willing to argue with each other that they are the best potential date for Taylor Swift. Death doesn’t stand a chance against the sarcasm of these Marines. Death’s darkness can’t overcome the illuminating smiles and powerful sense of humor of these men. Death can’t bully men who refuse to succumb to peer pressure. Death can’t recover from men who will do anything to save their brothers and put others above their own safety in a time of need. Death’s grip isn’t strong enough to compete against the beauty of a simple memorial of rocks and chevrons created by brothers in arms. The fear of death will always be overwhelmed by lives that inspire thousands of people in communities around this country to come out and pay respects to their fallen sons. 

Men such as these change lives for good and are the shoulders that the Corps stands upon. We take men such as these for granted because we expect great things from them. Men like Ripp, Joshua, Rog, Billy, Josh, David and Mason defeat death because they show us how to live. Their bodies are buried, but their lives will continue on and their impact will multiply as we live lives that honor the way in which they changed our lives for good. 

We call this battalion the Walking Dead and the men Deadwalkers not because they are walking around awaiting death or because of a morbid sense of humor. No, we call ourselves Deadwalkers because we walk through death with no fear. We show death it is nothing in the face of such men. Time and again, death has tried to defeat this battalion. Time and again, death has lost because we live lives inspired by men such as Josh, Billy, Mason, Joshua, Ripp, David and Rog. Lives that inspire others to live well. Lives that death can’t extinguish. So the next time the Battalion Commander ends a formation with his familiar call and response, don’t look at it as cheesy false motivation. Answer his call with pride that you are part of this storied unit and that you are willing to honor the lives of these seven and all those before you who proudly bear the name Deadwalker. 

And here is a photo of the memorial that I alluded to in the remarks:

Arlington

I had the privilege yesterday of performing a burial at Arlington National Cemetery for one of my Marines who was killed in Hawthorne, NV on March 18th. I had hoped to never be called on to perform such a task, but sometimes we don't get exactly what we want. Below are the remarks that I made. I would have posted the memorial service remarks from Bridgeport, but I didn't type those up and lost my notes so I'll post them once I can transcribe from the DVD.

Today we gather on sacred and hallowed ground with heavy hearts to remember the life of a great Marine, but more importantly the life of an outstanding young man. It will take time for us to comprehend that Taylor is gone. But we can find a measure of solace in the fact that Taylor led a good life and embodied the spirit that earned his unit the nickname of the Walking Dead. It may seem odd to call someone a good Deadwalker, but I think after the events of two weeks ago we better understand what it means to claim the title of Deadwalker.

The Vietnamese claimed that our battalion was dead and awaiting burial, so they called us the Walking Dead. Unfortunately they didn’t know what made up a member of the Walking Dead. Even death cannot defeat us or stop us from making a difference in this world. Billy’s life and the way he had a positive effect on all those around him prove that death didn’t get the final say so on the 18^th of March.

Death just can’t defeat an infantryman that is willing to vehemently argue that Taylor Swift would choose him over any other Marine. Death can’t win against someone who begrudgingly accepted being called Billy, a name he couldn’t stand, because his brothers in arms gave him that name. Death has no chance to outlast the legacy of someone who conquered three deployments and three weeks on the mountain at Bridgeport. Death can’t claim victory over someone whose smile and love of life were infectious to all who encountered him. Death has no chance to outlast the legacy of a man like Taylor.

Men such as Taylor change lives for the better and are what the legend and lore of the corps are built upon. Marines like Taylor, lead and shape lives in ways they never realize in life. Only upon their death do we begin to see the full impact of their actions on the lives of their brothers and every person they have known. We take men like Taylor for granted because we expect great things from men such as him and in his absence we see the effect he had on our lives. Men like Taylor defeat death because they show us how to live. Today we bury his body, but we will never bury his life because that will continue to live on and multiply in the lives of those he changed for good.

Remembering a Fallen Deadwalker (Part 2)

Unfortunately, we lost another stellar Marine to a tragic accident a few weeks ago and yesterday we held the memorial service to remember and honor Sgt. Davis' life. I had the pleasure to get to know him fairly well during the workup and deployment as he was the CO's bodyguard and we rode with them frequently as part of training and while in country. For those who are part of the 1/9 family and couldn't make it, I have posted my remarks below.

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         We can’t take away your loss and many of us can’t comprehend what you have been through the last few weeks. What we all know, and what these Marines have expressed today is that Davis was a good man and he is missed. Death always leaves a mark, especially when the life of a good Marine, a good man is tragically cut short. Like many of us in this room, you have asked the question why? Why did a man who was larger than life, literally and figuratively have to die so young? Why is someone who looked indestructible not with us today? And this is a question those of us who loved Davis will ask throughout our lives as we reflect on the past few weeks. I stand here before you to tell you I have no idea why this happened and we won’t understand why in our lifetime. So, please don’t get frustrated if you don’t find a satisfactory answer to why your dad isn’t here anymore. People who mean well will try and come up with elaborate explanations as to why your dad isn’t here to play catch with you and see you off to school in a few years. They don’t know. I don’t know either, so I’m not going to stand here and fill your head with theories and speculation.

Let’s focus on what we know about death. It leaves a mark and we can’t take it back. Eventually the grieving is over, even if the hole in our heart remains, we start to live out the new normal without Davis. Your dad’s life gives us many clues as to how to life a full and wonderful life. A few years ago, a Marine General started using a saying to describe the Marines he led: “No better friend, no worse enemy.” General Mattis was either telling everyone to be like Davis, or Davis decided to embrace that saying as his life’s motto.

We train Marines to be feared, and Davis was a scary man. The first time I met him, I was intimidated. Built like a NFL linebacker, he recently bench pressed 500 pounds! Our previous CO selected him as his personal bodyguard just because of his physical presence. And it worked. People naturally backed away from Davis in his full battle rattle. You didn’t want to get on his bad side, much less have him as an enemy. But, it wasn’t his physical presence that set him apart and made him a Marine’s Marine. There are many people who wear the uniform that can be mean and intimidating and can mold themselves into a physical presence. What set Davis apart was the way he embraced the first part of General Mattis’ saying.

No better friend. In the aftermath of his death, I remember so many people commenting on how Davis was their best friend. It seemed like that was the line to describe him because he was a good friend to so many people. He had a smile that would light up the room and really was a teddy bear, but don’t tell him I called him that. He mentored junior Marines and Sailors in such a way they didn’t know they were being mentored until they thought about it. He took my assistant under his wing and helped shape him into a respected leader and for that I am eternally grateful.

Davis struck the perfect balance between trained warrior and gentle giant. That is his legacy and if we strive to become Davis in that way, we honor his life and spread his legacy for generations to come. Because of his gentle nature, I think its ok for me to quote a song from Broadway in talking about him. In the show Wicked, there is a song called “For Good” that I think gets at the legacy Davis leaves not just among the Walking Dead, but across the Corps. “I've heard it said that people come into our lives for a reason bringing something we must learn. And we are led to those who help us most to grow if we let them. It well may be that we will never meet again in this lifetime so let me say before we part so much of me is made from what I learned from you. You'll be with me like a handprint on my heart. And now, whatever way our stories end I know you have re-written mine by being my friend... Because I knew you... I have been changed for good...”

Davis demonstrates why General Mattis made no better friend the beginning of the saying. That part of being a Marine is the most important because on days like today we need friends to support us and get us back into the fight. Davis changed lives for good. He made people better for a lifetime. Look around, his legacy surrounds you and they stand ready to help you conquer whatever challenges you face. For everyone, if we work towards living into his legacy we won’t have time to ask why he’s gone because we’ll be too busy telling the amazing story of Preston J. Davis.

Rest easy Preston, we have the watch.