I plan to stay for two days at Fort Bragg with my step-son and his family (including my new grandson) near the end of this week. John will finish school for his new MOS (his new job) and will return to Iraq for a third tour there, this time attached to Special Forces. Friday there will be a memorial service on base supported by the PGR for a Special Forces Master Sergeant who died in the south of Afghanistan the same day that the nine soldiers of the 173^rd died in the northeast.

The world of my grandfather was one characterized by many nation-states. Our country was just one of many – until the Great War, later know as World War One. We made a difference in that struggle and became a de facto world power.

The world of my father was defined by World War Two from which a bi-polar world emerged – our country facing the Soviet Union. Mutually Assured Destruction made Korea surreal: We could bomb the south side of the Yalu River but not the triple-A on the north side. Consequently, we are still at war there, 56 years later.

That is the strange world of my generation’s defining conflict, Vietnam. Those 15-years were one of the last battles of the Cold War and it successfully contained the Communist global threat but soldiers were vilified. The strategic significance was lost to many average Americans: “Nixon lied and boys died.”

The last battle of the Cold War was the 9-year Soviet foray into Afghanistan. It was concurrent with the Iran-Iraq War and the Reagan years. The Strategic Defense Initiative ended the period of dual superpowers, not with a bang but a whimper.

The sole superpower developed a new vision of its role in the world with the Persian Gulf War and the liberation of Kuwait. That is the (once again) simpler world in which we now recast Afghanistan and Iraq. After six years, aging hippies are again chanting “Bush lied and boys died.”

When the sole superpower is stirred to action, the resulting conflict is asymmetrical by definition. If we have a clear target, we can have a stealth bomber drop a GPS-guided 500 pound bomb. So they hide and turn to Improvised Explosive Devices. And that means that an American Soldier can be killed by the enemy while on combat patrol in a war zone without ever having a chance to shoot back.

MSG Mitchell Young was killed by an IED. In for 18 years, he was on his fourth deployment; third to Afghanistan. He has been awarded the Bronze Star. Twice. If I were back in Illinois on Friday, I would be thinking of him. Fortunately I will have the great good fortune to stand for him.

~~~

(preliminary post- update: I just returned home (north of Chicago) by way of Shanksville, PA (United 93) and will be able to finish this report on the beautiful memorial service for MSG Young this weekend, August 3^rd. It turns out that the new grandson is not the newest – during my visit we learned that Melissa is pregnant. When John leaves for Iraq a half-year from now, his wife will be large with child.

That’s the army. Mission first. Everyone makes sacrifices. John will not see his third child born. Mitchell will not see his wife or mother (Robyn, Jane) every again, on this Earth. Further report and photography is forthcoming.)

~~~

John’s current school is Civil Affairs. It is located in a non-descript brick building that also houses Psy-Ops. The building is located within the Fort Bragg base, not far from the main gate.

Across the street from the school is the JFK Chapel. That is where the memorial for Mitchell Young was held. The soldier below, wearing the distinctive Green Beret and walking in front of my car is headed for the chapel. When I got home, I zoomed in on him and saw that he is a bird-Colonel. Maybe he will be John’s commander.

Since I had been staying with John, I arrived at the chapel ahead of our group. I found a place on a hillside and waited and waited. Then I heard them and then I saw them.

First a cop-car, then the Ride Captain.

And then the rest of them leading a limo.

I don’t know if it was the heat of the day, the long anticipation or the latent power of Fort Bragg – but it was something. A good man had been blown-up on the other side of our planet in an altruistic cause. Would the U.S. Army provide the only formal spectacle?

Not hardly. There would be two dozen wind-blown patriots holding flags.

Dutch, the Ride Captain, had us holding our position until after the service began and returned us to position before the service ended. He moved us several times so that we would be positioned in the best place as circumstances changed. And he handed-out water. There is no talking in his flagline.

He was a pleasure.

If you’re not having a good time – and if a good time is what you want to have – you can stay home in your air-conditioning and watch your TV. The two dozen of us were here to show respect for a fallen hero. It’s not about us.

Having said that, and being very unkind to a lovely North Carolina woman, I close with another self-portrait.

Rest in peace, Master Sergeant.

photography of this memorial mission

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