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thedrifter
05-28-07, 08:38 AM
Their words live on
Letters shine light on what Marines thought in final days
BY HOWARD WILKINSON | THE CINCINNATI ENQUIRER

Memorial Day is the day we remember the men and women in uniform who died serving this country, from Saratoga and Bunker Hill to Haditha and Fallujah.

All are to be remembered, but the memory often works best at short distances, and the freshest memories are those of the young soldiers, sailors and Marines who have died in Iraq and Afghanistan.

All leave behind memories for their mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, spouses and sweethearts to cherish. Some leave behind words as well - letters and e-mails written to the ones they love and who love them the most.

And what they wrote goes a long way toward telling the rest of us who they were and what we have lost:

CHRISTOPHER DYER

One of the enduring images of Chris Dyer was seen nationwide a year ago, in an A&E Network special called "Combat Diary - the Marines of Lima Company."

The film used videotape and photos shot by the Marines of Lima Company themselves. One short piece of video from a fellow Marine's camcorder showed the 19-year-old Chris, strumming a guitar and singing "Puff the Magic Dragon."

Those back home who knew him best saw it and thought that was the Chris they knew. Handsome, happy, full of life.

Lima Company, a Marine reserve unit that lost 23 Marines in a six-month Iraq tour, was due to come home in the fall, and Chris - a Princeton High School graduate who wanted to be a pilot - was looking forward to beginning classes in the honors program at Ohio State University.

It was not to be.

His parents - Kathy Dyer of Glendale and John Dyer of Evendale - were left with some hand-written insights into what was in their son's heart and mind in the months before he died.

After Chris' death, the Marine Corps gave his possessions to his mother in a box. In it, she found a postcard sent to him by his aunt, Helen Chilton of Atlanta. Also in the box was a response, written by Chris but never mailed. Kathy Dyer delivered it to Helen. It read:

Dearest Aunt Helen,

Thank you and your friends from church for writing me and giving me a bright spot in my day.

Being here is tough in many ways, but your faith and love for me keep me motivated.

My fellow Marines and I have grown closer than I have ever been with anybody, in just these past few months. Spending every second of every day with these same buddies will make that happen. My life in their hands; theirs in mine. I have a new appreciation for life!

It's all good, Aunt Helen, because I have faith that in a couple of months I will be back at the Varsity (a landmark Atlanta drive-in restaurant) chowing down on chili dogs with you. And shepherds we shall be.

Love, your nephew,

Chris

In December '04, Lima Company held a Christmas party at company HQ in Columbus, the last such gathering of Marines and their families before deployment. Christopher and his mother, Kathy, perched on Santa Claus' knees for a Polaroid photo, with the American flag as a backdrop. Christopher gave his mother a handwritten Christmas card. It read:

Mom,

Thanks for all of your love and support financially, educationally, and, most of all, emotionally.

I don't know what the next year of my life will be like - or our lives, for that matter - but I know that no matter what I'll come home to you, because I love you.

Our bond is stronger than life or death; it is relentless; so am I. Merry Christmas, Mom - I love you, and will miss you greatly.

Always,

Christopher J. Dyer, PFC

USMC

In a letter to his father, John Dyer, shortly after arriving in Iraq, Chris told of an offer of a new assignment that, if he had taken it, would have meant he would have been nowhere near that dusty road in Haditha a few months later. In it, he said:

"I got offered a spot with SSgt. Greer and Weapons Company to train the ING (Iraq National Guard) - but I didn't want to leave my squad. Especially because I am a SAW (Squad Automatic Weapon) gunner and you know how that'd weaken the squad. So, no safe haven training Iraqis and no meritorious promotion. No worries."

He also listed for his father some of the things he was looking forward to when he came home:

"Flying, cookouts, going shooting, maybe hunting; just driving to the middle of nowhere and camping, Iron Horse (a Glendale restaurant) and the wine tastings, the ladies, movies, hangin' out with my Marines, wearing my Marine Corps jacket, cigars and Hennessey (only because I'm coming home), there better be kegs of Budweiser when I get home and lots of chips and salsa and guacamole and sour cream (just think nachos)."

BRYAN TAYLOR

At the top of the stairs to the second floor of Rick and Sherri Taylor's Milford home are two framed pictures - pictures that tell the story of the boy they loved and the young man they mourn.

One is a picture of young Bryan in his Pee Wee football uniform, down on one knee, a smile spread across the face under the soup-bowl haircut. The other is a life-like drawing of a determined-looking Marine in dress blue uniform, gazing into the distance.

"A Marine's Marine," Sherri Taylor said of the son she lost to the war. "A beautiful young man."

Rick and Sherri Tayler, like thousands of other parents around the country, are left to wonder what their boy-turned-man would have done with the rest of his life. But, as hard as that is, they cherish the memories of what Bryan did with the years he had.

"I'm his dad, so, of course, I always thought he was something special," said Rick, sitting with his wife at the kitchen table. "But, since he died, I've found out that he was a far greater person than even I knew. I never knew how much impact he had on people."

Both of Brian's parents said that, since his death, they have heard from dozens of people who knew their son - either at Milford High School, where he graduated in 2004; at Live Oaks Career Development Center, where he studied computer-assisted drafting and manufacturing; or who had bumped into him somewhere in Milford and Miami Township.

They all tell Rick and Sherri of Bryan's kindness, his good humor, ability to lead, and how he always looked out for his younger brother, Matthew, three years behind him in school. And the Taylors are grateful to all of those who have spoken kind words about their son and remember him still.

"He left behind a trail of people who cared about him," Sherri Taylor said. "No one who knew him will ever forget him."

He left behind some written words, as well - words spoken from the heart about who he was and what he wanted to be.

Bryan posted much of it on his page at MySpace.com. Some of what he wrote was light-hearted chatter, the kind anyone with a young son or daughter would recognize:

"Bryan's interests:

General: Everything.

Music: Everything but country.

Movies: Good movies.

Television: Don't watch.

Books: Thrillers.

Heroes: My father."

Or this description of his perfect companion, under the heading "Who I'd like to meet":

"A person who is down to earth and realizes what is going on around the world. A person who enjoys their life every day they wake up. Who wants to enjoy their time, and be happy. Someone who can put the drama behind them and always move on."

And there was a piece that touched his parents deeply, so much so that they had it reprinted on laminated cards that have been distributed all over the country. It is a piece the young Marine wrote in his brief time in Iraq and called "From Bryan's Heart":

"I am a Marine.

Some people love us and others hate us. We are all from different home, lives, etc., so why judge us as a whole when we are not alike.

I am proud of what I do and to serve the country that I do.

We are here for you and your families. We are the ones willing to give our lives to make your life easier and safer. So, please, don't hate.

I have seen a lot of good men lose their lives because of what our beliefs are. I honor these men every day. I'm down to earth and I do cherish life every day, because I realize how easy it can be taken from you."

Ellie