thedrifter
01-23-06, 07:27 AM
Life after Andrew
By Michael Moore - Missoulian - 01/23/06
Independent Record
Father still coming to terms with Marine’s death in Iraq
MISSOULA — In the last picture taken of him, the young Marine Andrew Bedard looks very much like the teenager he was.
“He just looks like a boy,” his father Denny said Friday.
But sitting at the wheel of his Humvee, he also looks purposeful and intent, his head shielded by a helmet, his alert eyes focused on a map of some sandy outpost in Iraq.
Today that picture rests in the left side of a plastic, fold-out notebook. On the other side is a certificate signed by R.B. Turner, a lieutenant colonel in the U.S. Marine Corps.
The certificate notes that Lance Cpl. Andrew D. Bedard has been awarded the Navy and Marine Corps Achievement Medal. Just below those words is this: Posthumously.
Denny Bedard has spent the past 111 days coming to terms with that word. Andrew, a Hellgate High School graduate, died in Ramadi, Iraq, in early October. He’d been in the country a month when a roadside bomb took out the Humvee he was driving.
According to the certificate, Andrew’s rig was the lead vehicle in a 21-vehicle convoy moving through Ramadi to help embattled soldiers from another company. He’d already driven on 30 combat missions in 30 days, and his company had come to depend on his level head and attention to detail.
The Marines had meant to take another, safer route through the inner city that day, but problems arose and they were forced to detour. The secondary route was riddled with the deadly roadside bombs known as improvised explosive devices.
“They were going off all around them,” Denny said.
Eventually, Andrew’s Humvee was hit.
“Bedard unselfishly maneuvered his vehicle in a manner which exposed himself to the greatest danger from a possible buried improvised explosive device,” the award states. “His heroic act ultimately saved the lives of three Marines and one Navy corpsman.”
Denny has read that phrase over and over ever since he and Andrew’s mother Michelle received the award from the Marine Corps. It sounds exactly like the young man he and Michelle raised.
“That reminded me so much of what I already knew about Andrew,” Denny said. “He was always part of the group that was willing to go beyond what was necessary.”
The award sits on Denny’s desk at Clear Channel Radio, where he works as an on-air personality. It’s there in the morning, when he feels strong and optimistic, when he sometimes feels like the man he used to be.
But after lunch, the malaise still sets in. Denny’s work pace slows, and he finds his mind adrift. It’s the time of day when the men from the Marine Corps came to his office to tell him that Andrew had been killed in the line of duty.
In a way, the award has begun to stir Denny from his afternoon blues. He thinks about the things that make up his work day, then remembers the endless, dangerous days that Andrew put in in Iraq.
“I see what my son was doing for a living, all the difficult things he had to do,” Denny said. “Nothing that I can be doing is anywhere near as hard as what he did. It helps me to remember that.”
The medal that accompanies the certificate resides on a shelf at home that serves as something of a shrine to Andrew. The medal itself is gold, with a green ribbon striped in orange, and sits on the shelf with the Purple Heart. The shrine is mostly photographs and mementos, but for Denny, it’s a source of comfort and a way to connect with the son he’ll never see again.
“Sometimes, it seems like he died years ago, and sometimes it’s like it just happened today,” Denny said. “I never really know.”
Either way, Andrew is never far away. He’s in every newspaper headline, every television newscast that notes another American death in Iraq.
“My heart just goes out to families every time I see another one,” Denny said.
Still, Denny isn’t bitter about the war that took his only child. He, like Andrew did, dreams of a future when Iraq functions as a free democracy, far removed from the deadly days that mark the present. For Denny, it’s not a matter of if, but when.
“When that day comes, I will swell with pride that Andrew was part of that solution,” Denny said.
When that day comes, expect Denny Bedard to board a plane for Iraq.
“When it’s a place where Americans can go, I would very much like to put Ramadi on my travel plans,” he said. “It’s a place I need to go.”
Ellie
By Michael Moore - Missoulian - 01/23/06
Independent Record
Father still coming to terms with Marine’s death in Iraq
MISSOULA — In the last picture taken of him, the young Marine Andrew Bedard looks very much like the teenager he was.
“He just looks like a boy,” his father Denny said Friday.
But sitting at the wheel of his Humvee, he also looks purposeful and intent, his head shielded by a helmet, his alert eyes focused on a map of some sandy outpost in Iraq.
Today that picture rests in the left side of a plastic, fold-out notebook. On the other side is a certificate signed by R.B. Turner, a lieutenant colonel in the U.S. Marine Corps.
The certificate notes that Lance Cpl. Andrew D. Bedard has been awarded the Navy and Marine Corps Achievement Medal. Just below those words is this: Posthumously.
Denny Bedard has spent the past 111 days coming to terms with that word. Andrew, a Hellgate High School graduate, died in Ramadi, Iraq, in early October. He’d been in the country a month when a roadside bomb took out the Humvee he was driving.
According to the certificate, Andrew’s rig was the lead vehicle in a 21-vehicle convoy moving through Ramadi to help embattled soldiers from another company. He’d already driven on 30 combat missions in 30 days, and his company had come to depend on his level head and attention to detail.
The Marines had meant to take another, safer route through the inner city that day, but problems arose and they were forced to detour. The secondary route was riddled with the deadly roadside bombs known as improvised explosive devices.
“They were going off all around them,” Denny said.
Eventually, Andrew’s Humvee was hit.
“Bedard unselfishly maneuvered his vehicle in a manner which exposed himself to the greatest danger from a possible buried improvised explosive device,” the award states. “His heroic act ultimately saved the lives of three Marines and one Navy corpsman.”
Denny has read that phrase over and over ever since he and Andrew’s mother Michelle received the award from the Marine Corps. It sounds exactly like the young man he and Michelle raised.
“That reminded me so much of what I already knew about Andrew,” Denny said. “He was always part of the group that was willing to go beyond what was necessary.”
The award sits on Denny’s desk at Clear Channel Radio, where he works as an on-air personality. It’s there in the morning, when he feels strong and optimistic, when he sometimes feels like the man he used to be.
But after lunch, the malaise still sets in. Denny’s work pace slows, and he finds his mind adrift. It’s the time of day when the men from the Marine Corps came to his office to tell him that Andrew had been killed in the line of duty.
In a way, the award has begun to stir Denny from his afternoon blues. He thinks about the things that make up his work day, then remembers the endless, dangerous days that Andrew put in in Iraq.
“I see what my son was doing for a living, all the difficult things he had to do,” Denny said. “Nothing that I can be doing is anywhere near as hard as what he did. It helps me to remember that.”
The medal that accompanies the certificate resides on a shelf at home that serves as something of a shrine to Andrew. The medal itself is gold, with a green ribbon striped in orange, and sits on the shelf with the Purple Heart. The shrine is mostly photographs and mementos, but for Denny, it’s a source of comfort and a way to connect with the son he’ll never see again.
“Sometimes, it seems like he died years ago, and sometimes it’s like it just happened today,” Denny said. “I never really know.”
Either way, Andrew is never far away. He’s in every newspaper headline, every television newscast that notes another American death in Iraq.
“My heart just goes out to families every time I see another one,” Denny said.
Still, Denny isn’t bitter about the war that took his only child. He, like Andrew did, dreams of a future when Iraq functions as a free democracy, far removed from the deadly days that mark the present. For Denny, it’s not a matter of if, but when.
“When that day comes, I will swell with pride that Andrew was part of that solution,” Denny said.
When that day comes, expect Denny Bedard to board a plane for Iraq.
“When it’s a place where Americans can go, I would very much like to put Ramadi on my travel plans,” he said. “It’s a place I need to go.”
Ellie