thedrifter
12-12-05, 12:28 PM
Brothers' bond strengthens on battlefield Iraq
Lubbock Avalanche-Journal ^ | Monday, December 12, 2005 | RAY WESTBROOK
They are known informally in Iraq as Poteet of the North and Poteet of the South.
In fact, they are brothers Chris and Phillip Poteet, U.S. Army captains assigned to the 1st Brigade, 3rd Infantry Division, and stationed 60 miles apart in Iraq.
Chris, 33, and Phillip, 31, have been supporting each other all their lives, according to their parents, Navy Capt. Bill and Becky Poteet of Lubbock.
But that close support has taken on an added dimension in the wake of lethal combat operations in a region bounded by Tikrit and Balad.
The brothers have been able to eat together only twice in the past several months in Iraq, each time as an aside to a mission that took them in proximity with each other.
Phillip, who is the commander of a company of about 120 men, suffered the loss of three of his troops in February. Another three were lost in October to a bomber. Chris, a combat engineer, described some of the theater of operations in Iraq through an e-mail sent home to family. In it, he recounted the time a few weeks ago when he was able to walk beside Phillip in a difficult moment.
"For those of you who do not know, my brother lost three more of his soldiers two nights ago," he said in the letter home.
Between pauses in his account it can be seen that every loss of a soldier is bitterly felt by his commanding officer.
Chris was invited aboard a Blackhawk helicopter by Col. Mark McKnight for a trip to escort three flag-draped caskets up the ramp into a plane that would take the soldiers home. They belonged to Phillip's company.
"We walked into the 5-7 headquarters and were greeted by Phillip and his acting first sergeant. He and I exchanged a brief hug and pat on the back and then he had to interact with Col. McKnight and team.
"There were two columns of soldiers, about 60 soldiers and airmen in all. I fell into the back of the line since I was not really a part of the unit. It was about that time that one of the first sergeants called me out and said that my brother wanted me up front with him for the ceremony.
"Phillip and Col. McKnight were the two people that were closest to the ramp, and I was two solders to the right of Phillip, directly across from the 5-7 Cav command sergeant major. The time in between caskets must have only been about five minutes, but it may as well have been a lifetime."
In the silence of the intervals, his thoughts were many, and included the pride of being an American. They focused on each flag-covered casket and the sacrifice of the soldier. He saw the flag as the banner that carried the nation's history ... and remembered his brother, Philip, and how many times they had stood together.
At home, his parents could have colored in the early years, and how close from the beginning the two brothers were in a family that consisted only of a mother and father and two sons.
Becky Poteet would have called to mind their time as small children:
"When Phillip came along, every time he would cry, the big guy, Chris, who was 2, would be all concerned: 'Baby Phil crying,' he would urgently tell me.
"As they got a little older, they had bunk beds. One guy still needed to get up in the middle of the night. The little guy would call Chris. Chris would get up, and he would be sleepy-eyed, and walk his brother to the bathroom, wait, and they would come back and go to bed."
They weren't picture perfect, she remembers.
"They had their normal disagreements off and on, but overall, I've seen them take up for each other many times."
Bill Poteet, a 30-year Navy veteran who retired with the rank of captain, the equivalent of colonel in the Army, saw them grow up with an interest in hunting. He had spent a lot of time in the Pentagon doing things for the Navy, and his sons came to the Pentagon on occasion.
"In a family with only two kids, they were either taking each other's candy or going hunting together. Whatever they were doing, they were together."
He also saw each of them become Eagle Scouts, and as a commissioned officer, commissioned each of his sons.
"They are very pro-military guys. They went to every Civil War battlefield, and did all those kinds of things growing up."
He said, "They both are very good officers. They are both good leaders, and I guess you can track that back to maybe the Eagle Scout stuff."
Chris, immersed in the ceremonies in which the slain soldiers were taken aboard the plane, wrote, "I thought about their lives. I thought about my life. I thought about the American flag that was secured to each casket. I thought about my brother, the commander. I thought about the burden of his responsibilities and the level of commitment that he has made to America, his men and himself."
He distantly heard a chaplain say a few words, read verses of Scripture and close in prayer.
"He then released us as we exited back down the ramp and out onto the tarmac. I know that there were few that could contain tears."
The brothers would have appeared very strong to an observer. But the ballistic tinted glasses everyone wore kept anyone from knowing that this time Chris and Phillip were silently crying together.
Ellie
Lubbock Avalanche-Journal ^ | Monday, December 12, 2005 | RAY WESTBROOK
They are known informally in Iraq as Poteet of the North and Poteet of the South.
In fact, they are brothers Chris and Phillip Poteet, U.S. Army captains assigned to the 1st Brigade, 3rd Infantry Division, and stationed 60 miles apart in Iraq.
Chris, 33, and Phillip, 31, have been supporting each other all their lives, according to their parents, Navy Capt. Bill and Becky Poteet of Lubbock.
But that close support has taken on an added dimension in the wake of lethal combat operations in a region bounded by Tikrit and Balad.
The brothers have been able to eat together only twice in the past several months in Iraq, each time as an aside to a mission that took them in proximity with each other.
Phillip, who is the commander of a company of about 120 men, suffered the loss of three of his troops in February. Another three were lost in October to a bomber. Chris, a combat engineer, described some of the theater of operations in Iraq through an e-mail sent home to family. In it, he recounted the time a few weeks ago when he was able to walk beside Phillip in a difficult moment.
"For those of you who do not know, my brother lost three more of his soldiers two nights ago," he said in the letter home.
Between pauses in his account it can be seen that every loss of a soldier is bitterly felt by his commanding officer.
Chris was invited aboard a Blackhawk helicopter by Col. Mark McKnight for a trip to escort three flag-draped caskets up the ramp into a plane that would take the soldiers home. They belonged to Phillip's company.
"We walked into the 5-7 headquarters and were greeted by Phillip and his acting first sergeant. He and I exchanged a brief hug and pat on the back and then he had to interact with Col. McKnight and team.
"There were two columns of soldiers, about 60 soldiers and airmen in all. I fell into the back of the line since I was not really a part of the unit. It was about that time that one of the first sergeants called me out and said that my brother wanted me up front with him for the ceremony.
"Phillip and Col. McKnight were the two people that were closest to the ramp, and I was two solders to the right of Phillip, directly across from the 5-7 Cav command sergeant major. The time in between caskets must have only been about five minutes, but it may as well have been a lifetime."
In the silence of the intervals, his thoughts were many, and included the pride of being an American. They focused on each flag-covered casket and the sacrifice of the soldier. He saw the flag as the banner that carried the nation's history ... and remembered his brother, Philip, and how many times they had stood together.
At home, his parents could have colored in the early years, and how close from the beginning the two brothers were in a family that consisted only of a mother and father and two sons.
Becky Poteet would have called to mind their time as small children:
"When Phillip came along, every time he would cry, the big guy, Chris, who was 2, would be all concerned: 'Baby Phil crying,' he would urgently tell me.
"As they got a little older, they had bunk beds. One guy still needed to get up in the middle of the night. The little guy would call Chris. Chris would get up, and he would be sleepy-eyed, and walk his brother to the bathroom, wait, and they would come back and go to bed."
They weren't picture perfect, she remembers.
"They had their normal disagreements off and on, but overall, I've seen them take up for each other many times."
Bill Poteet, a 30-year Navy veteran who retired with the rank of captain, the equivalent of colonel in the Army, saw them grow up with an interest in hunting. He had spent a lot of time in the Pentagon doing things for the Navy, and his sons came to the Pentagon on occasion.
"In a family with only two kids, they were either taking each other's candy or going hunting together. Whatever they were doing, they were together."
He also saw each of them become Eagle Scouts, and as a commissioned officer, commissioned each of his sons.
"They are very pro-military guys. They went to every Civil War battlefield, and did all those kinds of things growing up."
He said, "They both are very good officers. They are both good leaders, and I guess you can track that back to maybe the Eagle Scout stuff."
Chris, immersed in the ceremonies in which the slain soldiers were taken aboard the plane, wrote, "I thought about their lives. I thought about my life. I thought about the American flag that was secured to each casket. I thought about my brother, the commander. I thought about the burden of his responsibilities and the level of commitment that he has made to America, his men and himself."
He distantly heard a chaplain say a few words, read verses of Scripture and close in prayer.
"He then released us as we exited back down the ramp and out onto the tarmac. I know that there were few that could contain tears."
The brothers would have appeared very strong to an observer. But the ballistic tinted glasses everyone wore kept anyone from knowing that this time Chris and Phillip were silently crying together.
Ellie