USMC Colonel (Ret.) Eric Buer: A Memorial Day Promise – Fallen But Not Forgotten    

 29MAY2024

As another Memorial Day weekend came to a close, I was still reflecting on what the day meant to me and how I should be honoring the sacrifices made by so many. Whether in peacetime or war, life in the military takes an immeasurable toll on service members and their families. Service and sacrifice can’t be quantified or qualified by type, length, or location, but it can be given a value of what that service and sacrifice has left behind. I spent most of Memorial Day exchanging calls, texts, and emails with old friends and fellow veterans – reminiscing and telling the stories of the lives of those we lost.

In my dreams, I see their faces ageless and frozen in time. I recognize the smiles, but sadly, no words are spoken – I can’t hear them, and I can’t ask them. If I could ask them what would it be and what would they ask of me, those are the most frustrating questions. Instead, I’m left unanswered and left with an uneasy feeling that we all should be doing more. What is discussed on those calls and in those emails is how we can honor their legacy by fighting for those who need our help the most – surviving veterans.

We Continue To Lose Veterans Every Day

Every day, we lose veterans – to suicide, to disease, and to substance abuse. With an average of six thousand veteran suicides per year, it is the second leading cause of death for veterans under the age of 45. Veterans who served after September 11^th have a suicide rate fifty percent higher than the US population, with rates exacerbated by traumatic brain injuries. Between 2000 and 2020, more than 460,000 servicemembers were diagnosed with TBI, and countless others have gone undiagnosed. Those statistics are as staggering as they are maddening – these are living veterans who will be listed in next year’s memorials.

What does it take to wake the nation up from this nightmarish loss of direction, purpose, and identity that so many of us feel? How quickly and efficiently have political minorities refocused not only our national priorities but also their own agendas above those who continue to serve and continue to sacrifice?

“How can we allow our veterans to fall so hard or let their oft silent cries for help go unheard”, those, I believe, would be the words spoken by my old friends who only visit in my sleep. They would ask me how. They would ask me why. They would weep at the sight of the thousands of veterans who are as invisible as they are – living but not alive – homeless, jobless, and suffering from untreated physical, mental, and emotional scars. To their questions, I would have no answers – only a promise to do more, to be better.

I often wonder about those with whom I served but never knew. Whether it was supporting an infantryman in the South, providing cover to a tank commander driving into a firefight, or flying escort next to a troop-carrying helicopter, what became of them? What are their lives like? What unasked questions come to their minds as this Memorial Day comes and goes? If I close my eyes, I can almost remember what it felt like on another Memorial Day almost twenty years ago.

0245L 30 May 2005 – 22 Miles West of Baghdad, Iraq:

I adjusted my night vision goggles as the US Army Blackhawk helicopter came into focus. I added power and I felt the immediate vibrations of the rotor blades in my feet and in my hands. The wail of the two turbine engines, just a few feet behind my seat, nearly drowned out the radio chatter flowing into my helmet. As I rolled out of the turn, I asked my wingman to confirm their position while I pushed the stick forward and accelerated to one hundred and forty knots. We disappeared into the night, trying to catch the Black Hawk Medical Evacuation (MEDEVAC) helicopter flying a few hundred feet in front of us.

Tonight, we were the MEDEVAC’s armed gunship escort, the deterrent for those with thoughts of firing at any of us. As the Black Hawk turned east, they carried another wounded American and began another frantic journey into Baghdad. This was the “golden hour,” the precious time we had to get this nameless and, for us, faceless warrior into the trusting hands of trauma surgeons. We had been airborne for thirty-five minutes, and the trip from the Al Anbar provincial capital of Ramadi to Baghdad was almost twenty more – this was going to be close.

I was deep into my 3^rd tour flying Marine Corps attack helicopters in Iraq. This night, like so many before, was both endlessly frustrating and knowingly unsatisfying. The missions left us with time – not calm or relaxing time, only fidgety and nervous time with minutes that passed like hours. Tonight, we were headed to Baghdad or “CASH South,” the US Army’s combat support hospital, which included a critical trauma unit. The time let us wonder if we had gotten airborne fast enough, if the medics onboard the Black Hawk were successful enough, and if the awaiting trauma team would be gifted with enough time to save another of this generation’s greatest.

——

I never knew if that Marine or soldier survived the flight, the night, or his trip to hospitals in Germany and beyond. If he did, where was he now – what had become of him? I like to believe he survived, received the best care and the best treatment, and the promises made to him by a grateful nation were being honored. What was just a thought then, but an urgent concern now wasn’t the commitment of the medics in the Black Hawk, the skills of the trauma team at CASH South, or the expertise of the doctors in Germany, but was he able to navigate the maze that is veterans’ services. It becomes a simple yes or no question: are we honoring their service and sacrifice, or are we not?

“Our debt to the heroic men and valiant women in the service of our country can never be repaid. They have earned our undying gratitude. America will never forget their sacrifices.” — Harry Truman

The Effects of Our War Linger Every Day

The wars in Iraq and Afghanistan claimed more than seven thousand servicemembers, wounded fifty thousand more, and left an estimated one-half million suffering from traumatic brain injuries. For their sacrifices, I am eternally grateful, but how do we treat and prevent the loss of more service members now? Getting those combat wounded into the capable hands of trauma surgeons during the “golden hour” was critical, but I would never have anticipated that was the easy part of their journey home. They need that same level of support today – with eighteen million living veterans, we need veterans’ issues to be at the forefront of any and every political debate. This Memorial Day, I reaffirmed my promise that the fallen and those falling will never be forgotten.