Editor’s Message

As Memorial Day approaches and we honor our fallen soldiers, does anyone give any thought to the men and women who are responsible for notifying the families? To those who work intimately with the families of the fallen what is possibly the grimmest moment that can occur?

Even among those many thousands of men and women who've chosen to serve their country, few volunteer for the duty of death notification. It takes a special kind of bravery to walk up to a parent or a spouse's door, knock, and deliver awful news.

When asked if they remember every one of those moments when they had to prepare themselves to tell a family the bad news, an Army notification officer said,” I remember every single one.

“I remember every single phone call at 4:30 in the morning. I remember driving to every single house. I remember once going to a place in a what would have been an idyllic Robert Frost snowfall into southern New Hampshire and knowing that on this beautiful day I was going to be destroying some family's lives.

“We were directed to not seek directions from any place other than a police station if we absolutely had to because as soon as you appeared at the front door and rang that doorbell - as soon as they opened the door, they knew. And you could see it on their face, and you could just see their world collapse. And it was heart-wrenching. But I felt that it was a duty that probably had the greatest importance of just about anything I ever had to do.”

A family member remembers when he and his mother were notified of his father’s death in Vietnam.

“It was Memorial Day weekend, I was 13, and my father was killed in action in Vietnam; he was a Special Forces Green Beret. And what I remember about the notification was that when the doorbell rang, I walked to the door with my mother not knowing who was outside.

“And when we opened the door, and this is the only part of the notification I remember because people are in shock once they realize what happened. You pretty much don't remember anything else, but this still stands out in my mind today.

“As we opened the door, it was a large, black Army man, a sergeant, I believe - if I remember looking at his insignia correctly. But he was in his Class A uniform, and he was already crying before we opened the door.

“And he could barely get the words out to us. And he was by himself. And then, of course, he handed the Western Union telegram to my mom. And I think it maybe lasted all of five minutes. And she closed the door.

“It was so traumatic for this gentleman; I can still see his face today exactly. I mean, I could almost describe it to a T, and the tears streaming down his face before we even opened the door, notified us of my father's death.”

A final story. The night before the burial of her husband, 2nd Lt. James Cathey of the United States Marine Corps, killed in Iraq, Katherine Cathey refused to leave the casket, asking to sleep next to his body for the last time.

The Marines made a bed for her, tucking in the sheets below the flag. Before she fell asleep, she opened her laptop computer and played songs that reminded her of "Cat."

One of the Marines asked if she wanted them to continue standing watch as she slept.

"I think it would be kind of nice if you kept doing it" she said. "I think that's what he would have wanted".

I am not sure what is more honorable: Being married to this faithful wife to the end or the Marine standing next to the casket watching over them both.

I wish to say a “Thank You” to the families of our fallen service members this Memorial Day. And to the soldiers who bear the burden of notifying the families and watching over their loved ones as they are laid to rest.

If you have the time, may I recommend watching a movie this Memorial Day weekend: “Taking Chance” with Kevin Bacon. It is a true story about the experience of a Marine officer who is tasked with accompanying a young Marine home for services and burial. It reaches into your soul.

Have a Blessed Memorial Day.