thedrifter
01-15-07, 06:45 AM
Father heals in war zone that claimed his son's life
By Paul Burgarino, STAFF WRITER
Article Last Updated: 01/15/2007 02:40:53 AM PST
MANTECA — With the same tenacity that led his only son to fight and die bravely in Iraq, Mike Anderson found his way to the land where his son perished.
Anderson, a Modesto resident who works in Manteca, lost his son, Mike Jr., on Dec. 14, 2004, in what his son's Marine commanding officer described as a "clearing operation" in a house in Fallujah.
Though the Marines initially gave Anderson a rough overview of how his son was killed, he wasn't satisfied. Eventually he received a moment-by-moment account of how his son was shot by an RPK machine gun while entering a room occupied by five insurgents.
During the past two years, Anderson has become involved in supporting the Marines. He met President Bush in October, attended the inauguration of Gov. Schwarzenegger and has met other leaders in Washington. Yet he wanted to set foot on the same ground where his son died.
"Getting to meet all these people has been bittersweet," he said, displaying a rare presidential coin given to him recently.
"I would trade all of this, all of my worldly possessions to have my son, my namesake, my firstborn back."
After trying to find a way to go to Iraq for more than a year, Anderson was able to make the therapeutic pilgrimage on Nov. 1 as part of a contingent of Gold Star parents.
Anderson's belief in what his son fought for is evident from the Marine Corps flag that flies over his Manteca Auto Plaza dealership, as well as the news clippings, plaques and
mementos that cover his office walls.
Getting to Iraq
During the barrage of media coverage, Anderson and his family received following Mike Jr.'s death, Anderson told a television station that he wanted to travel to the land itself.
"I didn't exactly know what I was talking about, but that seed had been planted within myself, and I was driven to find a way to get there," Anderson said.
Throughout 2006, Anderson and his wife, Angela, attended a slew of high-level briefings in the Pentagon, as well as meeting with Iraqi dignitaries, each time asking if he could go to Iraq. Each time he was told it was impossible for civilians.
"In May the Pentagon told me all the reasons I couldn't go. There were security issues. They said, 'We don't have policy for it. Where are you going to stay? What are you going to do?' since it was something that never happened before."
Anderson called Yonadan Kanna, an official in the new Iraqi government whom he had met in February.
"He invited me into the Green Zone," Anderson said. "Also I had protection from the Marines 5th Regiment, my son's unit. I was going to stay in Kuwait two nights, then cross over."
Again his request was denied.
"I met a Marine lieutenant colonel shortly thereafter. He said that all the contacts you have are Marines, what you need to do is latch on to a media outlet," he said.
But he says he found out that civilians can't just get a press pass. He tried to talk to a producer friend in Kansas City who knew how to get in and get out, but that also fell through.
"Then Move America Forward came to light, and that's really how I got there," he said.
Move America Forward is a "pro-troop, pro-American" Northern California-based group, Anderson said.
Anderson and his wife had been planning on attending opening ceremonies of the National Marine Corps Museum on Nov. 10, the 231st anniversary of the Marine Corps. They had planned a seven-day trip when Anderson received a phone call on Nov. 1.
Two days later, Anderson and his fellow Move America Forward parents were in Amman, Jordan.
Don't look American
While he was only in Iraq for five days, Anderson said that he went through myriad experiences and emotions.
"I didn't know what to expect," he said. "Because of all the stuff we see on television, being an American, No. 1, is probably not a good thing. So I really didn't know, but the trip overall by far exceeded my expectations."
Even before the trip, Anderson had to change his style of dress.
"You can't wear tennis shoes, or clothes with logos that show you are Americanized," he said, adding that his wardrobe consisted of plain shirts, Dickies pants and a couple of suits.
After making a corkscrew approach landing, to avoid enemy rockets, at an airport about 35 miles east of Mosul, the group was escorted by five or six suited men outside the tarmac.
The men, he said, were "kind of like the Iraqi equivalent of Secret Service." The group was driven to a plain, unmarked building, which was plush on the inside.
The group endured long, emotional, 14- to 15-hour days of travel and consolation.
Anderson recalls the one time where he really felt a sense of danger during the trip.
"We were coming from out in the field at Binislawa, and we were coming down this road, when the whole convoy stopped," he said.
To escape the traffic, the convoy went down a narrow alley and began snaking through alleyways. Suddenly, they were stopped again.
"I was doing my best to look out and pay attention, but there was an apprehension," he said, adding the alley was surrounded by two- to three-story buildings. "This movie with Harrison Ford came to mind, and I had the feeling we were sitting ducks."
While blocked in, Anderson did something he rarely does — he wrote in a journal.
"I wrote a note to my wife and daughters, just saying that I love them. I was pretty apprehensive," he said.
Just then, the Iraqi security men started beating on the cars to get them to clear a path, which allowed the convoy to squeeze through.
"There may have been other times in danger, but I didn't sense danger," he said. "That for me was an eye-opener."
Throughout the trip, the group was able to converse one on one through an interpreter with grieving Iraqi parents who were forced into what he called "concentration" camp sites, such as Binislawa.
"It had a huge impact," he said. "It was tremendous to share the same pains."
These sites often had raw sewage in the street, but were showing signs of progress, Anderson said. Again, the culture shock was evident.
"In our culture, one of the first things you want to do is you want to hug them. Well, you can't. You can't touch them, can't look them in the eye, can't cross your legs or show the bottom of your shoes, it's disrespectful."
Despite the language barriers, the parents were able to connect.
"I was standing there crying there together with tears running down our faces showing them pictures of my son. They took a card of him and placed it in the corner of the frame," he said.
"They feel our sons are saints, due to their sacrifice for a young man or a young woman to leave the safety of the U.S. to come to a foreign soil to fight for freedoms," he said. "They consider their sons saints, too, and they are together forever."
Anderson also recalled how they were greeted with thumbs-up signs by civilians when it was discovered they were Americans being escorted by the Iraqi government.
"I remember taking out my digital camera, and these Iraqi children didn't know what's going on," he said. "Once I took their picture and they saw what happened, all of a sudden there were 15 to 20 kids wanting to get their pictures taken.
"For me it was just what we do in America, but you would think they'd seen a spaceship or something," he added.
Throughout the trip, Anderson said, he couldn't help thinking about his fallen soldier son, recalling how he would receive countless phone calls from him about bullet holes in the walls and road signs telling him where his squad was heading.
Two years later, his son's image is still fresh in Anderson's mind.
"He was kind of an average California kid, blue eyes, blonde hair, a skinny kid," he said, adding some of his favorite pastimes were racing motorcycles, skateboarding and going to the lake.
"He was a fun-loving kid, not overly academic, but then again neither was I, so I can't hold that against him," he said, adding that around the age of 15, Mike Jr. started considering a military career.
At age 16 he told his father he wanted to be a Marine.
"So, not only did he want to be in the military, but he wanted to be a Marine," he said. "It struck me as a lofty goal."
Mike Jr. joined the Marines at age 17 as a member of the Fleet Antiterrorist Security Team. True to the team's motto of "Anytime, anyplace," he was dispatched to Japan, Guam, Hong Kong and Haiti.
"Mike always had to be the one to kick the door first," his father said. "He always had to be the first one in."
Mike Jr. chose to leave the FAST unit in May 2004, opting for a transfer to Camp Pendleton so he could be on the front line for duty in Iraq.
He shipped out Sept. 11, 2004, as the battle of Fallujah was brewing.
"At first, he was all gung-ho about being there, he was tough as nails, he didn't want to be on the sidelines, he wanted to get in the game and fight," Anderson said. "They say Marines are a different breed, but I didn't realize it until I had one for a son."
Anderson said his family comes from a long line of people who could handle themselves in a fight.
"I wasn't worried about him dying like that. Our lineage can take care of themselves, and Mike was a knife fighter," he said. "It's hard to believe that's how he died."
On the morning of Dec. 14, Mike Jr. and other members of his regiment were back clearing buildings in Fallujah or searching for insurgents in tunnels.
The Marines entered a building through a hatch on the rooftop after having thrown a grenade in to clear out the area. As the squad leader, Mike Jr. marched down a staircase to a closed door. He kicked in the door, where there were five Iraqis waiting for him, Anderson said.
"He was hit right here, which is the soft side of the flack (jacket)," Anderson said, pointing to his left side and fighting back tears. "Right between the fourth and fifth rib it went right through, went through his heart and exited out just below his shoulder blade."
Marines converged on the building, including Cpl. Terrance vanDoorn, who ordered covering fire while he crawled in to recover Mike Jr. VanDoorn — also from Modesto — pulled Mike Jr. out of the bullet-ridden room and later out of the building when it became engulfed in flames.
Though Anderson did not get to visit that burned-out building during his journey, he said he would try everything he could to get there.
"I think it's important because it's like one of the Iraqis told me, my son is forever part of Iraq because his blood is in the soil," Anderson said, with the same conviction that his son no doubt had two years ago.
"To be able to interact with the same people who my son was fighting for was tremendously healing. It gave me a little more closure to be able to witness what he witnessed and seeing the site would give me even more closure."
Staff writer Paul Burgarino can be reached at (209) 832-6143 or pburgarino@trivalleyherald.com.
Ellie
By Paul Burgarino, STAFF WRITER
Article Last Updated: 01/15/2007 02:40:53 AM PST
MANTECA — With the same tenacity that led his only son to fight and die bravely in Iraq, Mike Anderson found his way to the land where his son perished.
Anderson, a Modesto resident who works in Manteca, lost his son, Mike Jr., on Dec. 14, 2004, in what his son's Marine commanding officer described as a "clearing operation" in a house in Fallujah.
Though the Marines initially gave Anderson a rough overview of how his son was killed, he wasn't satisfied. Eventually he received a moment-by-moment account of how his son was shot by an RPK machine gun while entering a room occupied by five insurgents.
During the past two years, Anderson has become involved in supporting the Marines. He met President Bush in October, attended the inauguration of Gov. Schwarzenegger and has met other leaders in Washington. Yet he wanted to set foot on the same ground where his son died.
"Getting to meet all these people has been bittersweet," he said, displaying a rare presidential coin given to him recently.
"I would trade all of this, all of my worldly possessions to have my son, my namesake, my firstborn back."
After trying to find a way to go to Iraq for more than a year, Anderson was able to make the therapeutic pilgrimage on Nov. 1 as part of a contingent of Gold Star parents.
Anderson's belief in what his son fought for is evident from the Marine Corps flag that flies over his Manteca Auto Plaza dealership, as well as the news clippings, plaques and
mementos that cover his office walls.
Getting to Iraq
During the barrage of media coverage, Anderson and his family received following Mike Jr.'s death, Anderson told a television station that he wanted to travel to the land itself.
"I didn't exactly know what I was talking about, but that seed had been planted within myself, and I was driven to find a way to get there," Anderson said.
Throughout 2006, Anderson and his wife, Angela, attended a slew of high-level briefings in the Pentagon, as well as meeting with Iraqi dignitaries, each time asking if he could go to Iraq. Each time he was told it was impossible for civilians.
"In May the Pentagon told me all the reasons I couldn't go. There were security issues. They said, 'We don't have policy for it. Where are you going to stay? What are you going to do?' since it was something that never happened before."
Anderson called Yonadan Kanna, an official in the new Iraqi government whom he had met in February.
"He invited me into the Green Zone," Anderson said. "Also I had protection from the Marines 5th Regiment, my son's unit. I was going to stay in Kuwait two nights, then cross over."
Again his request was denied.
"I met a Marine lieutenant colonel shortly thereafter. He said that all the contacts you have are Marines, what you need to do is latch on to a media outlet," he said.
But he says he found out that civilians can't just get a press pass. He tried to talk to a producer friend in Kansas City who knew how to get in and get out, but that also fell through.
"Then Move America Forward came to light, and that's really how I got there," he said.
Move America Forward is a "pro-troop, pro-American" Northern California-based group, Anderson said.
Anderson and his wife had been planning on attending opening ceremonies of the National Marine Corps Museum on Nov. 10, the 231st anniversary of the Marine Corps. They had planned a seven-day trip when Anderson received a phone call on Nov. 1.
Two days later, Anderson and his fellow Move America Forward parents were in Amman, Jordan.
Don't look American
While he was only in Iraq for five days, Anderson said that he went through myriad experiences and emotions.
"I didn't know what to expect," he said. "Because of all the stuff we see on television, being an American, No. 1, is probably not a good thing. So I really didn't know, but the trip overall by far exceeded my expectations."
Even before the trip, Anderson had to change his style of dress.
"You can't wear tennis shoes, or clothes with logos that show you are Americanized," he said, adding that his wardrobe consisted of plain shirts, Dickies pants and a couple of suits.
After making a corkscrew approach landing, to avoid enemy rockets, at an airport about 35 miles east of Mosul, the group was escorted by five or six suited men outside the tarmac.
The men, he said, were "kind of like the Iraqi equivalent of Secret Service." The group was driven to a plain, unmarked building, which was plush on the inside.
The group endured long, emotional, 14- to 15-hour days of travel and consolation.
Anderson recalls the one time where he really felt a sense of danger during the trip.
"We were coming from out in the field at Binislawa, and we were coming down this road, when the whole convoy stopped," he said.
To escape the traffic, the convoy went down a narrow alley and began snaking through alleyways. Suddenly, they were stopped again.
"I was doing my best to look out and pay attention, but there was an apprehension," he said, adding the alley was surrounded by two- to three-story buildings. "This movie with Harrison Ford came to mind, and I had the feeling we were sitting ducks."
While blocked in, Anderson did something he rarely does — he wrote in a journal.
"I wrote a note to my wife and daughters, just saying that I love them. I was pretty apprehensive," he said.
Just then, the Iraqi security men started beating on the cars to get them to clear a path, which allowed the convoy to squeeze through.
"There may have been other times in danger, but I didn't sense danger," he said. "That for me was an eye-opener."
Throughout the trip, the group was able to converse one on one through an interpreter with grieving Iraqi parents who were forced into what he called "concentration" camp sites, such as Binislawa.
"It had a huge impact," he said. "It was tremendous to share the same pains."
These sites often had raw sewage in the street, but were showing signs of progress, Anderson said. Again, the culture shock was evident.
"In our culture, one of the first things you want to do is you want to hug them. Well, you can't. You can't touch them, can't look them in the eye, can't cross your legs or show the bottom of your shoes, it's disrespectful."
Despite the language barriers, the parents were able to connect.
"I was standing there crying there together with tears running down our faces showing them pictures of my son. They took a card of him and placed it in the corner of the frame," he said.
"They feel our sons are saints, due to their sacrifice for a young man or a young woman to leave the safety of the U.S. to come to a foreign soil to fight for freedoms," he said. "They consider their sons saints, too, and they are together forever."
Anderson also recalled how they were greeted with thumbs-up signs by civilians when it was discovered they were Americans being escorted by the Iraqi government.
"I remember taking out my digital camera, and these Iraqi children didn't know what's going on," he said. "Once I took their picture and they saw what happened, all of a sudden there were 15 to 20 kids wanting to get their pictures taken.
"For me it was just what we do in America, but you would think they'd seen a spaceship or something," he added.
Throughout the trip, Anderson said, he couldn't help thinking about his fallen soldier son, recalling how he would receive countless phone calls from him about bullet holes in the walls and road signs telling him where his squad was heading.
Two years later, his son's image is still fresh in Anderson's mind.
"He was kind of an average California kid, blue eyes, blonde hair, a skinny kid," he said, adding some of his favorite pastimes were racing motorcycles, skateboarding and going to the lake.
"He was a fun-loving kid, not overly academic, but then again neither was I, so I can't hold that against him," he said, adding that around the age of 15, Mike Jr. started considering a military career.
At age 16 he told his father he wanted to be a Marine.
"So, not only did he want to be in the military, but he wanted to be a Marine," he said. "It struck me as a lofty goal."
Mike Jr. joined the Marines at age 17 as a member of the Fleet Antiterrorist Security Team. True to the team's motto of "Anytime, anyplace," he was dispatched to Japan, Guam, Hong Kong and Haiti.
"Mike always had to be the one to kick the door first," his father said. "He always had to be the first one in."
Mike Jr. chose to leave the FAST unit in May 2004, opting for a transfer to Camp Pendleton so he could be on the front line for duty in Iraq.
He shipped out Sept. 11, 2004, as the battle of Fallujah was brewing.
"At first, he was all gung-ho about being there, he was tough as nails, he didn't want to be on the sidelines, he wanted to get in the game and fight," Anderson said. "They say Marines are a different breed, but I didn't realize it until I had one for a son."
Anderson said his family comes from a long line of people who could handle themselves in a fight.
"I wasn't worried about him dying like that. Our lineage can take care of themselves, and Mike was a knife fighter," he said. "It's hard to believe that's how he died."
On the morning of Dec. 14, Mike Jr. and other members of his regiment were back clearing buildings in Fallujah or searching for insurgents in tunnels.
The Marines entered a building through a hatch on the rooftop after having thrown a grenade in to clear out the area. As the squad leader, Mike Jr. marched down a staircase to a closed door. He kicked in the door, where there were five Iraqis waiting for him, Anderson said.
"He was hit right here, which is the soft side of the flack (jacket)," Anderson said, pointing to his left side and fighting back tears. "Right between the fourth and fifth rib it went right through, went through his heart and exited out just below his shoulder blade."
Marines converged on the building, including Cpl. Terrance vanDoorn, who ordered covering fire while he crawled in to recover Mike Jr. VanDoorn — also from Modesto — pulled Mike Jr. out of the bullet-ridden room and later out of the building when it became engulfed in flames.
Though Anderson did not get to visit that burned-out building during his journey, he said he would try everything he could to get there.
"I think it's important because it's like one of the Iraqis told me, my son is forever part of Iraq because his blood is in the soil," Anderson said, with the same conviction that his son no doubt had two years ago.
"To be able to interact with the same people who my son was fighting for was tremendously healing. It gave me a little more closure to be able to witness what he witnessed and seeing the site would give me even more closure."
Staff writer Paul Burgarino can be reached at (209) 832-6143 or pburgarino@trivalleyherald.com.
Ellie