Our fallen brothers and sisters reflect our best
At Bravery Brewing Co. in East Lancaster, there is a memorial to these fallen. It’s not an impromptu memorial, but a real one.
A black cloth drapes a table in front of what is known as the “Wall of Bravery.” Atop that table are 13 photographs and names of the Marines, the Army soldier and Navy hospital corpsman (medic) who were killed in the ISIS-K terror attack at the Abbey Gate of Hamid Karzai International Airport.
Because it is a beer tasting room, there is a full glass set in silent toast to these honored dead. There is also a yellow rose. President Ronald Reagan once wondered aloud, “Where do we get such men” and it would need to be amended, “Where do we get such men and women.”
In the same big room, the Wall of Bravery centerpiece is an enormous American flag. On that wall are the photos of hundreds of soldiers, sailors, airmen, Marines, Coast Guard, National Guard and Reserves with ties to the Antelope Valley. Many of you have friends or family whose photographs are on that wall.
Along a special row framing that enormous American flag are the names and photographs of the 15 or so young Americans from the Antelope Valley who have died in service since 9/11. They are the Gold Star roll of honor. Some of those splendid young people were from families that some of you know.
I mention Bravery and its tasting room not to promote beer, but because Bart Avery and his family have consistently supported active military, military families and the veteran community since they opened their doors nearly a decade ago.
One of the founding partners was “The Gunny,” R. Lee Ermey, the Marine Vietnam War veteran who became the world’s most famous and feared D.I. in “Full Metal Jacket,” and television’s “Mail Call.”
If he were alive today, his grief at the tragedy of our final combat losses in Afghanistan would be consuming. His spirit continues to inhabit the place where veterans and active service flock to shoot the breeze over a brew. The beer sells itself, but the camaraderie in the extended military family is priceless.
So, the memorial is expressive and respectful of our brothers and sisters who paid the ultimate price. I think of Sgt. Nicole Gee, the Marine from Sacramento, who cradled an Afghan baby in her arms days before the attack and messaged out, “I Love My Job.” I think about Cpl. Hunter Lopez, who looked forward to joining his parents in service in the Riverside County Sheriff’s Department. I think about Staff Sgt. Ryan Knauss, in the Army’s elite Airborne contingent on the walls at the airport. And I think about Navy Corpsman Max Soviak, because Marines love the “doc” like soldiers love their medics.
Some were not born when 9/11 happened and many were toddlers. But they took their commitment and delivered on their oath of service, giving everything they had to protect the lives of Americans and Afghans who helped during the longest war.
A paratrooper brother messaged out to his friends the final transmission of Major Gen. Christopher T. Donahue, commanding general of the 82nd Airborne Division.
“All personnel clear, out of airspace, job well done.”
The general was the last one to board.
His message speaks for all of them, every single one, living and dead, who performed this extraordinary mission.
Dennis Anderson is a licensed clinical social worker at High Desert Medical Group. An Army paratrooper veteran, he deployed to Iraq with local National Guard troops to cover the war for the Antelope Valley Press. He works on veterans
and community health