For the longest time, Memorial Day was a constant reminder of where I fell short as a Soldier in the U.S. Army. It was a constant reminder of not having the courage to face my fear of survivor’s guilt. Of feeling like a pretender and not wanting to be thanked for my service.

While I am proud of my service in Operation Iraqi Freedom and the Bronze Star Medal I earned, it took almost 19 years to get to this point of acceptance.

I Was Awarded My Bronze Star Medal in October of 2003.

At that point in time, the reality that only 8% of service members would be awarded this medal did not cross my mind. I still had four more months to finish out in Iraq before I would return home, and the war materializing in my very presence overshadowed everything else. The certainty of my situation would come full circle on December 24^th at 10:30 am.

My unit had a convoy going out from Taji, Iraq, where we were based, to our brigade headquarters in Camp Speicher just north of Tikrit, Iraq. I walked into our Tactical Operations Center (TOC) to report to my security detail and ran into a newly promoted soldier, Ben. When I saw him with his sergeant stripes pinned on, I yelled out very condescendingly, “What’s up, Sergeant!” The reasoning being Ben was nervous going through the promotion board a couple of months earlier, given what being promoted to sergeant would mean for his wife and 9-month-old son back at home. I told Ben he had nothing to worry about, and he passed the promotion board while in Iraq.

As we were talking, the Command Sergeant Major pulled me off the convoy security detail because he was going at a later time, and I was the gunner for his vehicle. I had to replace myself with one of my soldiers. The convoy would head to Camp Speicher without me and would be hit with a roadside bomb (IED). Ben’s vehicle was struck, and he, along with two others, would give their lives for this country that morning.

My office was in charge of processing the awards, and I already knew we needed to start the write-ups for the Purple Hearts, which are awarded to anyone who is either wounded in combat or gives the ultimate sacrifice. As I spoke with the Command Sergeant Major, he advised me that the Division Commander, Major General Odierno, was also awarding Soldiers who lost their lives within the 4^th Infantry Division a Bronze Star Medal. Any pride I had for earning mine quickly dissipated. Without knowing it, the survivor’s guilt began to take hold of me.

Once we returned home in March of 2004, I tried to go about my job in the Army as if the last year in Iraq did not even take place. I was walking to the Command Sergeant Major’s office to turn in some promotion packets when another soldier advised me that the Command Sergeant Major was not in his office. He was in the Colonel’s office with Ben’s wife. I did a 180 and went back to my office. I feared running into Ben’s wife, knowing she would be a reminder that I not only made it home and he did not, but somehow the U.S. Army awarded me the same Bronze Star Medal as Ben. I could not even conjure up anything to say in case I ran into her, so I left and took an early lunch.

Fast Forward to January 2023.

After seeking help for my mental health, I reached out to Ben’s wife. I asked her if she was in a good place for me to share a story about Ben that I had just journaled about. She said yes, and I shared with her how nervous he was at the promotion board in Taji, Iraq, and then how excited and proud Ben felt after passing it and getting promoted to Sergeant. I wanted her and their son to know he was proud of what that promotion meant for his family.

Ben’s wife was happy to hear it and said she would share it with their son. She also explained that Ben had a journal he wrote in while he was in Iraq. Ben’s wife gave it to her son last Christmas, given he was older now, so he could get to know his father better. I felt relieved to know Ben’s wife was doing as best as she could and that my story of Ben was able to make her smile.

However, I left out the part when I saw him with his newly pinned Sergeant stripes, as it would be the last time I would see Ben alive. The conversation was going too well, and I still did not have the courage to mention it. These are the sentiments combat veterans, and Gold Star Families deal with every Memorial Day.

We don’t know them all, but we owe them all. I pray that you now know at least one.