thedrifter
07-30-07, 07:30 AM
Soldiers know brotherly love is not a cliché
Posted: July 29, 2007
Mike Nichols
Soldiers often talk about becoming brothers. Mitch Bocik and D.J. Engel already were.
Some might call them half brothers or stepbrothers, but Mitch doesn't use those terms.
They grew up together. They, even as adults, have shared a house in Lake Holcombe.
"We're brothers," said Mitch, who returned home over the weekend for the first time since being seriously injured in May in Iraq. And brothers, in addition to fighting for their country, fight for, and look after, each other.
They don't do it because they have to. D.J., like Mitch a member of the Army Reserve's 397th Engineer Battalion, did not have to go to Iraq. He'd already been to Afghanistan and back when he found out that Mitch had been ordered to Ramadi.
"As soon as he found out I was going overseas, he volunteered to go, too," said Mitch, who is 21. "He went over there to protect me, basically, to be a big brother."
They knew they wouldn't be sitting behind desks. Anyone who reads the obits knows that Ramadi is a very dangerous place.
Just last week, a 21-year-old Watertown Marine, Matthew Zindars, was killed there by a roadside bomb. He didn't have to be there, either. He'd been there already in 2005, and had developed what his dad described in this paper as a fierce loyalty to his fellow Marines.
When he found out some members of his old unit were going back, he did, too.
"They think of each other as brothers," Zindars dad was quoted as saying. "They eat together, sleep together and protect each other.
"They were very tight."
Almost 80 Wisconsinites have died in Iraq now, many from roadside bombs. One of the most dangerous jobs, everyone knows, is what Mitch calls "route clearance."
That's what Mitch and D.J. and the other reservists were doing when the 17-ton Cougar armored truck Mitch was in was blown up. He was told later it flew up to 12 feet off the ground and pitched 100 feet forward.
When D.J., who was in another vehicle, saw the blast and ran back to it, "he was expecting," he later told Mitch, "to see body parts."
Instead, D.J. heard his brother calling his name, said their mom, Tammy Kaska.
Mitch doesn't remember anything and I couldn't reach D.J. for direct comment because he's still over there, but Tammy has talked to D.J. and says her understanding is that he "did what he needed to do, what he would have done for any soldier."
They say they would later learn that he pulled Mitch out of there and got his body armor off, got him to a transport, was there for his brother when his brother needed him the most.
"It meant the world to me," said Mitch, who busted seven vertebrae and might never walk again without assistance - but lived.
Tammy says she is proud of her sons and relieved that D.J. was there - even if she knows that other soldiers there would have done the same thing.
Other soldiers, in fact, since Mitch was not the only one wounded, surely did.
In fact, the truth is that many of them - no matter what sort of blood they have in common, the blood of birth or the blood spilled - are going over there right now for exactly the same reason Matthew Zindars and D.J. Engel did.
They go in part for their country, says Tammy. And, Mitch knows better than anyone, they go for their brothers.
E-mail mnichols@journalsentinel.com or call (262) 376-4374.
Ellie
Posted: July 29, 2007
Mike Nichols
Soldiers often talk about becoming brothers. Mitch Bocik and D.J. Engel already were.
Some might call them half brothers or stepbrothers, but Mitch doesn't use those terms.
They grew up together. They, even as adults, have shared a house in Lake Holcombe.
"We're brothers," said Mitch, who returned home over the weekend for the first time since being seriously injured in May in Iraq. And brothers, in addition to fighting for their country, fight for, and look after, each other.
They don't do it because they have to. D.J., like Mitch a member of the Army Reserve's 397th Engineer Battalion, did not have to go to Iraq. He'd already been to Afghanistan and back when he found out that Mitch had been ordered to Ramadi.
"As soon as he found out I was going overseas, he volunteered to go, too," said Mitch, who is 21. "He went over there to protect me, basically, to be a big brother."
They knew they wouldn't be sitting behind desks. Anyone who reads the obits knows that Ramadi is a very dangerous place.
Just last week, a 21-year-old Watertown Marine, Matthew Zindars, was killed there by a roadside bomb. He didn't have to be there, either. He'd been there already in 2005, and had developed what his dad described in this paper as a fierce loyalty to his fellow Marines.
When he found out some members of his old unit were going back, he did, too.
"They think of each other as brothers," Zindars dad was quoted as saying. "They eat together, sleep together and protect each other.
"They were very tight."
Almost 80 Wisconsinites have died in Iraq now, many from roadside bombs. One of the most dangerous jobs, everyone knows, is what Mitch calls "route clearance."
That's what Mitch and D.J. and the other reservists were doing when the 17-ton Cougar armored truck Mitch was in was blown up. He was told later it flew up to 12 feet off the ground and pitched 100 feet forward.
When D.J., who was in another vehicle, saw the blast and ran back to it, "he was expecting," he later told Mitch, "to see body parts."
Instead, D.J. heard his brother calling his name, said their mom, Tammy Kaska.
Mitch doesn't remember anything and I couldn't reach D.J. for direct comment because he's still over there, but Tammy has talked to D.J. and says her understanding is that he "did what he needed to do, what he would have done for any soldier."
They say they would later learn that he pulled Mitch out of there and got his body armor off, got him to a transport, was there for his brother when his brother needed him the most.
"It meant the world to me," said Mitch, who busted seven vertebrae and might never walk again without assistance - but lived.
Tammy says she is proud of her sons and relieved that D.J. was there - even if she knows that other soldiers there would have done the same thing.
Other soldiers, in fact, since Mitch was not the only one wounded, surely did.
In fact, the truth is that many of them - no matter what sort of blood they have in common, the blood of birth or the blood spilled - are going over there right now for exactly the same reason Matthew Zindars and D.J. Engel did.
They go in part for their country, says Tammy. And, Mitch knows better than anyone, they go for their brothers.
E-mail mnichols@journalsentinel.com or call (262) 376-4374.
Ellie