A SOLDIER'S STORY

Remembering A Fallen Comrade

By
Franke Gracia

I remember exactly where I was when I heard the news that Cpl Pat Tillman had been killed in Afghanistan. At the time, very few people were aware of Tillman’s story, how he had walked away from millions as a professional football player to enlist in the service, how he had done so with as little fanfare as possible, how he just wanted to serve his country. So, since I knew all this when I heard the terrible news bulletin on the television that fateful day, it hit me especially hard. I still remember sitting there stunned, not wanting to believe the awful news.

At the time, there was no way I could have ever imagined that just over a year later, I would shuffle off a C-130 Military Transport at Bagram Air Field in Afghanistan, and there to greet me would be a small USO building, christened the “Pat Tillman Center.”

Afghanistan, or any war zone I suppose, is an excellent place to examine your faith. In the civilian world, it’s uncommon to see individuals say grace before their meals. I do remember noticing though, while training at Fort Hood for this deployment, the significant number of soldiers silently praying before chow. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised when even more troops were bowing their heads once I arrived in Afghanistan. I now know what my dissertation will cover should I ever pursue my doctorate in mathematics – I will research the mathematical algorithms governing the phenomena of significantly increased religious activity as it relates proportionally to the distance with respect to a combat zone. Funny how that is.

My personal spiritual faith was reaffirmed in the wilderness of Afghanistan, not long after arriving in country. I remember distinctly that moonless pitch-black night, darker than 10 feet down. I couldn’t even see my own hand as I held it out at arms length. For some unknown reason, I happened to glance up, and that’s when I saw them. All those stars. I had never seen so many stars in all my life. The blackness of the night illuminated them all the more as I stared at the heavens in wonder. There I was, half a world away from my loved ones, in a war zone, wearing body armor and heavily armed, engulfed in ink jet blackness – yet I was not even the least bit afraid or even apprehensive.

As I looked up at all those vibrant, brilliant stars, it occurred to me that they represented something very significant. The closest, most dazzling stars represented my family and friends that had traveled with me to Afghanistan. My mom. My brothers and sisters. My dear friends. My deceased father and grandparents in heaven. My recently deceased uncle who fought his way across Europe during World War II. I could feel his presence. I heard him whisper to me in that soft, kind voice of his, “Vas bien mijo, estoy tan orgulloso de ti.” (You’re doing well my son, I’m so proud of you). You may not believe me, but I will swear to you he said that to me that night.

The other stars, the millions in the background, the ones only slightly overshadowed by the closer brighter stars, represented all those wonderful people I do not know personally, people of all races and religions, who diligently work and pray for peace in our world of seemingly never-ending conflict. I felt them there with me as well. I am not alone in Afghanistan. I never have been. I never will be.

I never met Pat Tillman, yet I feel a special bond with this man. Tillman didn’t join “the military” – he joined “the service.” We would have been great friends. As the anniversary of his passing approaches, it is my heartfelt prayer that his grieving family is comforted by the fact that his spirit is with me here in Afghanistan, that his special star adorns my night sky, that I think of him often, that thousands of soldiers like me are inspired and strengthened by his extraordinary example of selfless service.

Cpl Tillman, your spirit was just too beautiful for this world. Rest now, my brother, and be at peace.

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Franke Gracia lives in Temple, Texas and was deployed in Afghanistan with the National Guard from May 2005 to April 2006. He is a math professor at Temple College and is very close to his family that includes two brothers and two sisters. He earned a bronze star while he was deployed, which he gave to his mother. As to why he decided to write this series of articles he says, "I hope folks who read my scribbling will gain a greater appreciation of what a citizen-soldier goes through during a deployment."