The Knock No One Wants
Sometimes, you run across a great piece of journalism that moves you like few others.
My home state's Rocky Mountain News won a Pulitzer Prize this year for a story and accompaning photo essay that followed a Marine Casualty Assistance Call officer. If you are not familiar with the lingo, that is the person who is responsible in the miliary for notifying the families of soldiers that their loved one has died in combat. The story is a heartbreaking and yet captavating story of what happens to the people who have to do the notifying, and the families that have to hear the terrible news.
This is a story that struck close to my heart. As you may or may not know, I come from a military family. And we have had our share of losses. My mother had two brothers killed in the Air Force. The first was notified by a telegram delivered to her then-18-year old brother who was the only one at home. Then, the second was delayed reporting the similar news (though he was officially M.I.A.--they never found him) when a neighbor grabbed the poor kid and they waited until my Grandfather could be taken off the golf course before notifying my Grandmother, who was alone in the house. My father lost many friends in Vietnam, and I'm sure my other Grandfather lost the same in WWII.
Other than perhaps being an executioner, I cannot think of a more terrible and thankless job than being the official bearer of such bad news. It must tax those responsible considerably. This article is special in how it humanizes and places into context this awful job. But it also doesn't shy away from criticism; the military is having problems making sure these folks are well-trained and professional in their duty.
It is an extraordinary piece of journalistic writing, and I recommend it wholeheartedly. It provides perspective that is much needed. The marine major it follows takes the words, "Support Our Troops," very seriously. He has my thanks.
My home state's Rocky Mountain News won a Pulitzer Prize this year for a story and accompaning photo essay that followed a Marine Casualty Assistance Call officer. If you are not familiar with the lingo, that is the person who is responsible in the miliary for notifying the families of soldiers that their loved one has died in combat. The story is a heartbreaking and yet captavating story of what happens to the people who have to do the notifying, and the families that have to hear the terrible news.
This is a story that struck close to my heart. As you may or may not know, I come from a military family. And we have had our share of losses. My mother had two brothers killed in the Air Force. The first was notified by a telegram delivered to her then-18-year old brother who was the only one at home. Then, the second was delayed reporting the similar news (though he was officially M.I.A.--they never found him) when a neighbor grabbed the poor kid and they waited until my Grandfather could be taken off the golf course before notifying my Grandmother, who was alone in the house. My father lost many friends in Vietnam, and I'm sure my other Grandfather lost the same in WWII.
Other than perhaps being an executioner, I cannot think of a more terrible and thankless job than being the official bearer of such bad news. It must tax those responsible considerably. This article is special in how it humanizes and places into context this awful job. But it also doesn't shy away from criticism; the military is having problems making sure these folks are well-trained and professional in their duty.
It is an extraordinary piece of journalistic writing, and I recommend it wholeheartedly. It provides perspective that is much needed. The marine major it follows takes the words, "Support Our Troops," very seriously. He has my thanks.
posted by cc at
7:34 PM
3 Comments:
Good article. I could not finish it with tears in my eyes. This is a tough job that takes a special breed of people.
Tough enough to be the one to call a DOA on the scene and then have to tell the family about it. At least I can leave the scene when the coroner arrives and my paperwork is finished. As shameful as it feels, but it is easier to talk with the family when you have control of the topic and it remains medical in nature. I know what I found and did, as well as why I did them. It gets really tough when questions and thoughts shared turn philosophical or religious. Kids are never easy, period, especially when you have them. So I can not imagine how the Major deals with working with a family who have lost a kid and have so little information on the death to start with. These guys have the closest understanding of how the Grim or Bean-sidhe may feel, everyone fears them, yet they know that they are just doing their "job".
I can relate to one thing though, we become advocates for the deceased and their families. We are a part of the healing process for all involved and it is healing that I am about. My old partner is in Afganistan as we type. He is a son of a Marine and proud to serve, yet in my eyes he is still my partner. He, as I, is amazed by how little the general public knows what the military does and how they care for their own. My hats off to my brothers in arms and their buddies, as to the men/women that do their part to make their lives a little bit easier, even after death.
Yeah, I guess Jeff was about 16, wasn't he? My mistake.
Great article. Like Bubba, it was hard to read without a tear or two. Unfortunately, I've been there and done that, so it struck home! In the Vietnam Era, all Army posts were required to maintain duty rosters for casualty notification of families living in the vacinity of the installation. It was the one duty everyone dreaded! I applaud the Major, and the Marine Corps through his efforts. His actions are truly outstanding and should be a lesson for us all.
Da
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