It started out like many days before, it was hot; it was dirty; it was Afghanistan. It was just another day doing the same things that we’d been doing for months. We had patrolled this same stretch of road (if you could call that thing a road) dozens of times. We would occasionally take some small arms fire but nothing too serious. Usually, they would ambush us and once we returned fire they would run like cowards.
It seemed a bit hotter than usual. There were no clouds to block the sun and we were out earlier than usual so there were no shadows to provide shade. We thought that if we got out a little earlier that maybe we could go out further into the area that was heating up lately with insurgent activity.
The dust was thick and the water was warm (okay, it was hot!). I was in the third vehicle of a four vehicle patrol. We had been having problems with our radios and I was messing with some of the connections while my driver was telling us about his plans for his upcoming leave. He was recently married and his wife was pregnant with their first child, a boy. He was telling us about this special getaway he was planning to surprise his wife. He had it all figured out and had even made some of the reservations already… he was like a little kid talking about Christmas. We were all giving him a hard time.
He and I went way back. We were in the same battalion in boot camp and we went to infantry school together. We originally were assigned to different units but when my unit got orders to deploy he volunteered to go with us. I was in his wedding and our wives were friends. It wasn’t uncommon for us to be at one another’s house on the weekend barbequing and throwing some beers back. I had been promoted quicker than him and was glad that he was assigned to my squad. I trusted him and knew that he was a very capable Marine.
He was smiling from ear to ear as he described his romantic getaway. We all were laughing and none of us saw it when the first vehicle took a direct RPG hit. The thump of the blast knocked us back into our seats. Everything was hidden by the dust and smoke and I didn’t even have to tell him to get off the road. We exited our vehicle and immediately took small arms fire from the ridge just to our east.
We returned fire and began to repel the attack when I saw that two Marines were climbing out of the exploded vehicle ahead of us and that they were obviously badly wounded. My driver and I sprinted to the vehicle and pulled the two Marine into a ditch at the side of the road. We were pinned down and we were waiting for the others to get to our location… it seemed like hours. I was quickly running out of ammunition and knew that we didn’t have much time. Just when I thought that we were screwed, two Cobra gunships appeared from atop the ridge and quickly neutralized the enemy force. It was over.
I took a second to catch my breath and then turned my attention to the two Marines from the exploded vehicle. They were a mess and I immediately called for a Med-Evac. That’s when I noticed… my driver. He was face down and not moving. My heart jumped as I ran over to where he was.
When I got to him I immediately knew it was bad. There was blood everywhere. I had never seen that much blood before. I turned him over and saw that he had taken several hits. One had hit him in the throat, one was in the shoulder and it looked like a couple were stopped by his vest. He was as white as snow and could hardly speak as he choked on his own blood.
I held him in my arms as the other members of my squad began to run up to us. I screamed for our corpsman (medic) but he was busy with other casualties. I tried to stop the bleeding. I told him that he was going to make it and that he had to hold on. He cried as he told me to tell his wife that he was sorry. Now I was crying as I told him to shut up. I tried to be strong but he could tell by the look in my eyes that it wasn’t good. He said that if this was it that he was glad that he was here with me. I held him tight as he took his last breath… he was gone.
A few minutes later the Med-Evac helicopters arrived. We helped the crew load the casualties into the Helos and then made our way back to our vehicles. The drive back was the longest I had ever been on. In a way I didn’t want it to end. I didn’t want to get back and have to deal with what had just happened.
Two hours later we pulled into the FOB (Forward Operating Base) and were immediately met by every officer and senior enlisted guy at the camp. They pulled me aside and began to debrief me. Afterwards my Commanding Officer put his arm around me and told me that he was proud of me. He said that my actions and the actions of my squad had saved the lives of those Marines in the lead vehicle. He then said how sorry he was that O’Neil didn’t make it. That was his name… Corporal Kevin O’Neil.
I knew that I had to be the one to call his wife. I knew that he wouldn’t want her to hear it from a stranger. I knew that I didn’t want that either. But before I could call her I called my wife. I wanted her to know so that she could be there to help Kevin’s wife threw this.
She knew instantly that something was wrong. She asked if I was hurt and I started to cry again. I said softly, “no”. Then she realized… “Oh, my God… Kevin”? I couldn’t even get the words out but she knew. I finally told her that I had to call his wife, Jen. I told her that I didn’t know what I was going to say. She said to just let my heart do the talking… so that’s what I did. My wife was with her when I called… that was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.
For the next few days I couldn’t help but blame myself for his death. He wasn’t supposed to be there. He was my responsibility and I had promised his wife that I would watch over him. I kept replaying that afternoon in my head. I tried to figure out what I had done wrong; what I could have done to save him. But I couldn’t figure it out. I was a mess.
A week later, I was in Arizona at Kevin’s funeral. I met his parents and apologized for failing to bring their son home. I told them that part of me had died that hot afternoon in Afghanistan. I told them that he was brave and that they should be proud of him. That’s when Kevin’s father took a piece of paper out of his pocket. He told me that it was the last letter that they had received from Kevin. He wanted me to read it.
I took the letter and slowly unfolded it. The first few paragraphs were the normal, “I’m doing good” and “the food is horrible” kind of stuff. But the fourth paragraph was different. It said not to worry about him. He said that he was with me and that together the insurgents didn’t have a chance. He said that I was his mentor and that he was learning something new every day. He went on to say that he hoped that someday he could be half of the Marine that I was. The last part of the letter is what really drove me to tears, again. He told his dad that he and Jen had decided on a name for their son. He said that they were going to name him Steve, after me. I cried as I said to myself quietly,” I hope that I can be half the man that you were, Kevin”.
Steve’s Pen and Lens 