thedrifter
03-19-06, 08:34 AM
Salute to a Marine
A story of how Christopher Dyer's death in Iraq changed many lives
The Cincinnati Enquirer
As of Friday afternoon, 2,314 American troops had died in the Iraq war. As the war approaches its third anniversary Monday, the U.S. death toll approaches the lives lost in 9/11. Cost of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan has surpassed $400 billion.
But for thousands of American families, the war has come at a far more private and painful cost.
The family and friends of Christopher Dyer, a 19-year-old Marine reservist killed Aug. 3, 2005, feel that pain - both in what once was and now is lost, and also in what will never be.
They mourn the clever, restless youth-becoming-man who did not return with his battalion in January.
They mourn the Ohio State University honors program Chris did not enter, the pilot's license he will not earn, even the backyard barbecue to celebrate his return - flush with the salmon and metts he hungrily requested - that did not happen.
"I'll be stateside and prolly won't get to see you until late late sept or early oct," he wrote in his last e-mail to his father, John Dyer, in July.
Less than two weeks later, he and 13 other Marines were killed in the war's deadliest roadside bombing.
Here, in broken pieces and from broken hearts, is what the world lost that day.
MOURNING AN UNFINISHED STORY
From the start, camouflage was the color of Chris' future.
In latchkey programs at Evendale Elementary school, he was the little boy who played with GI Joes.
By 11, Chris and his best friend, Mike Hertlein, would stock up on flea-market military garb and deploy themselves on missions throughout the neighborhood.
Temporarily distracted by high school studies and female classmates, Chris made a sober pact with himself in his senior year to join the Marine Reserve right after graduation.
Friends and family say that commitment satisfied a hunger Chris had had all his life: The chance to excel at something, and to find out, and live out, his purpose in life.
Before he left for Iraq in March 2005, Chris and his father, John Dyer, met in Las Vegas for what would be their last reunion.
"I couldn't be happier with where I am in my life than where I am right now," he told his dad. It was his way of saying he had no regrets.
In Iraq, Chris was a Marine's Marine, a Squad Automatic Weapon (SAW) gunner on four-man "fire teams." He carried 90 pounds of artillery, could set off 800 rounds of weapon-fire per minute and watched his buddies' backs on building-by-building searches.
He survived the dangerous foot missions, but was killed with 13 other Marines on Aug. 3, when the amphibious assault vehicle they were riding in was hit by a roadside bomb.
"To some extent, it seemed like his life to that point was getting prepared for something, and then he had crystallized into somebody with such a bright future," his father said in his Evendale home, surrounded by pictures of Chris and boxes of letters from friends and strangers. "It's hard not to have watched how that future played itself out."
Chris planned to enter Ohio State this January. In his memory, his family has donated his Marine death benefit and life insurance to the Princeton Scholarship Fund.
To contribute, make checks payable to the Princeton Scholarship Fund, note "Christopher Dyer Scholarship" in the subject line and mail to Princeton Board of Education, 25 W. Sharon Ave, Cincinnati, OH 45246.
Ellie
A story of how Christopher Dyer's death in Iraq changed many lives
The Cincinnati Enquirer
As of Friday afternoon, 2,314 American troops had died in the Iraq war. As the war approaches its third anniversary Monday, the U.S. death toll approaches the lives lost in 9/11. Cost of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan has surpassed $400 billion.
But for thousands of American families, the war has come at a far more private and painful cost.
The family and friends of Christopher Dyer, a 19-year-old Marine reservist killed Aug. 3, 2005, feel that pain - both in what once was and now is lost, and also in what will never be.
They mourn the clever, restless youth-becoming-man who did not return with his battalion in January.
They mourn the Ohio State University honors program Chris did not enter, the pilot's license he will not earn, even the backyard barbecue to celebrate his return - flush with the salmon and metts he hungrily requested - that did not happen.
"I'll be stateside and prolly won't get to see you until late late sept or early oct," he wrote in his last e-mail to his father, John Dyer, in July.
Less than two weeks later, he and 13 other Marines were killed in the war's deadliest roadside bombing.
Here, in broken pieces and from broken hearts, is what the world lost that day.
MOURNING AN UNFINISHED STORY
From the start, camouflage was the color of Chris' future.
In latchkey programs at Evendale Elementary school, he was the little boy who played with GI Joes.
By 11, Chris and his best friend, Mike Hertlein, would stock up on flea-market military garb and deploy themselves on missions throughout the neighborhood.
Temporarily distracted by high school studies and female classmates, Chris made a sober pact with himself in his senior year to join the Marine Reserve right after graduation.
Friends and family say that commitment satisfied a hunger Chris had had all his life: The chance to excel at something, and to find out, and live out, his purpose in life.
Before he left for Iraq in March 2005, Chris and his father, John Dyer, met in Las Vegas for what would be their last reunion.
"I couldn't be happier with where I am in my life than where I am right now," he told his dad. It was his way of saying he had no regrets.
In Iraq, Chris was a Marine's Marine, a Squad Automatic Weapon (SAW) gunner on four-man "fire teams." He carried 90 pounds of artillery, could set off 800 rounds of weapon-fire per minute and watched his buddies' backs on building-by-building searches.
He survived the dangerous foot missions, but was killed with 13 other Marines on Aug. 3, when the amphibious assault vehicle they were riding in was hit by a roadside bomb.
"To some extent, it seemed like his life to that point was getting prepared for something, and then he had crystallized into somebody with such a bright future," his father said in his Evendale home, surrounded by pictures of Chris and boxes of letters from friends and strangers. "It's hard not to have watched how that future played itself out."
Chris planned to enter Ohio State this January. In his memory, his family has donated his Marine death benefit and life insurance to the Princeton Scholarship Fund.
To contribute, make checks payable to the Princeton Scholarship Fund, note "Christopher Dyer Scholarship" in the subject line and mail to Princeton Board of Education, 25 W. Sharon Ave, Cincinnati, OH 45246.
Ellie