Parents reflect on son’s sacrifice in Afghanistan
Andrew Miller’s mother says she doesn’t regret ‘giving him to our country’
CHELMSFORD, ONT.— The official army photo reveals much about what you need to know about Pte. Andrew Miller.
Other soldiers appear stony-faced serious in their photos. But not Miller. He wears a lopsided grin, betraying the sense of humour and carefree attitude that occasionally landed him in hot water with his commanders but made him popular among his fellow soldiers.
And it’s at the heart of what makes him so missed today, nearly four years after his death in Afghanistan on June 26, 2010. He was 21.
“He is exactly what you see there. It’s not a sad picture. He’s a troublemaker. He was funny,” said his mother, Wendy Miller.
Miller and Ray Ealdama, Andrew’s father, will tell you that time does not heal all wounds. Some losses, like the death of a son, only get worse with passing years, they say.
“I don’t know about the other moms, but I cry every single day,” she said. “It gets worse every year because the reality of it comes to the front. The first year you are numb.”
Miller has her public visage, which she calls her “military mother’s face,” that she puts on for events like community commemorations and remembrances. But it betrays the searing grief she and Ealdama endure to this day.
Their home, set on a large tract of land northwest of Sudbury, is dotted with touchstones and memories of Andrew. There are photos of him — in uniform, sitting in a hammock, enjoying time with fellow soldiers — and a curio cabinet crowded with precious keepsakes.
Sitting at their kitchen table, smiles play across their faces and their voices trail off as they recall memories of Andrew’s life. Like the time he gulped down two dozen ice cream bars and then tried to blame their disappearance on his younger sister. Like the time he snorted wasabi up his nose to prove to his dad how tough he was. “He didn’t talk properly for about a month after that,” Ray said with a chuckle.
How Andrew was the “old soul” of the family, the older sibling who was mentor to the three younger children. “He would keep all the kids on the straight and narrow,” Miller said.
And they recall how he liked to plop himself down in their bed, just to chat. “He always brought a dinner plate and it would be heaping and dripping with everything and he would come and sit between us in bed and he would talk and eat,” Miller said.
From an early age, Miller dreamed of joining the military, of being an infantry soldier. “He always wanted to be the guy upfront,” his father said.
He memorized the lines from war movies, decorated his room with camouflage netting and read Soldier of Fortune. When eyesight troubles kept him out of the infantry, his father suggested he try for the job of medic since they, too, are always upfront.
Though not Andrew’s biological father, Ealdama was his father in every
“He asked me not to cry, not to wear black and to tell people who he was and not to forget.” WENDY MILLER ANDREW’S MOTHER
other sense, a mentor and role model. Ealdama had served eight years in the military before joining the Greater Sudbury Police, where today he is an acting sergeant. He deployed to Afghanistan himself for a year beginning in 2007 to assist with civilian policing. As a result he knew the places where his son would be deployed. And he knew well the dangers, too.
“When he told me he was going to Afghanistan, it scared me because I knew what he was going into and I knew what to expect,” Ealdama said.
“I told him, ‘it’s going to be rough.’ He said, ‘I know, but if you can do it, I can do it,’ ” Ealdama said. Six days before he deployed, mother and son went for a walk across the property. Both had a premonition he would not return. “I knew Andrew wasn’t coming home. I just knew in my heart. He knew,” she said. She jokingly asked if there was a 1-800 number that mothers could call to keep their sons from being deployed. “No mom. And even if there was, I wouldn’t give it to you,” he replied. “And then he started talking to me about how I would be if he wasn’t coming back. He asked me not to cry, not to wear black and to tell people who he was and not to forget,” she said. “He was like, ‘just don’t let them bury me in a book. Please, I want people to know who I was and how I loved my job,’ ” he told her. He left for Afghanistan on May 15, 2010. On that day, his family gathered at CFB Petawawa to see him off. “I started crying. I sobbed in his arms. He said, ‘Mom, don’t get upset. I’m just going on a business trip,’ ” she said. “That was the best hug I think I ever got from him.” Miller was a medic, the “doc” of the battlefield. The job of a medic is not only to tend the physical wounds of the troops but, in many ways, the mental ones as well. Miller helped keep up morale. His nickname was Forrest Gump. His favourite movie was Anchorman. He could recite movie punch lines at the drop of a hat to the entertainment of the crowd around him. On the day he died, Miller and his fellow medics were responding to a call for help. Insurgents let the first three vehicles in the convoy go by before detonating their bomb under the armoured Bison ambulance. The attack killed Miller along with Master Cpl. Kristal Giesebrecht. A third medic was injured. Ealdama was at home that day. Andrew’s dog Ruby, a German shepherd, had made a commotion in the living room. When Ealdama went to investigate, he spotted a white van on the road in front of the house. Two men got out. His first thought was that Andrew had been hurt. He met the men in the driveway.
“I said, ‘how bad.’ They said, ‘Andrew has been killed,’ ” Ealdama recalled.
The family has mixed feelings about their treatment by the military. The support that was there in the immediate aftermath has faded away, they say. The funeral went over budget and the family was on the hook to pay $2,300, a sum eventually covered by Andrew’s former colleagues in 2 Field Ambulance. (Asked about the cost, the defence department said that families of deceased soldiers are responsible for any funeral costs that exceed the government’s allowance.)
On a basement wall hangs a plaque — an Ontario tribute to the fallen — its glass cover still smeared with the tears that fell from Miller’s face as she accepted it from then premier Dalton McGuinty. Another honour the couple cherishes is the framed message from Brig. Gen. Ahmad Habibi, of the Afghan National Army, saluting the family’s sacrifice for his country.
It’s confirmation that not only was Miller a Canadian hero but an Afghan hero, too, Ealdama said.
He wants Canadians to know that the soldiers made a difference in Afghanistan. “I am proud that my son was part of that,” he said. “His death wasn’t in vain.”
Says Miller, “I’ve no regrets at all being his mom and giving him to our country. No regrets. I raised such a good boy. He just wanted to help everybody. That’s all a mom can ask.” The Star travelled across Canada to talk with families about the relatives they lost to Canada’s 12-year involvement in Afghanistan. Our series of photographs, videos and stories will run in the newspaper and on thestar.com all week. Tomorrow: the Diplaros family in Toronto.