thedrifter
04-03-03, 06:43 AM
Families of the fallen cherish final letters
By Chelsea Carter
Associated Press
The letters arrived regularly from Marine Cpl. Randy Rosacker.
Some were homemade postcards, fashioned from empty containers of prepackaged food. Others were longer, private thoughts from a son in Kuwait to a family awaiting his return.
They were his last words. The 21-year-old from San Diego was killed March 23 in an ambush near Nasiriyah, Iraq.
For some, the last letters of those killed in the war have become a source of comfort, full of words of love, gratitude and reflection. For others, they are mementos to be shared years from now when small children have grown or when somebody asks about a son or daughter lost in battle.
“They’re a gift, I guess,” said Rosacker’s father, Navy Command Master Chief Rod Rosacker of Bremerton, Wash. “Something to remember him by, something to share.”
Most letters are filled with descriptions of camp life and horrendous sandstorms. Some contain wishes for CDs and candy. All offer declarations of love, wishes for quick reunions and an understanding of the danger ahead.
Rosa Gonzalez said the letters from her son, Marine Cpl. Jorge Gonzalez, gave her a sense of peace and that nothing was left unsaid.
“He didn’t hold back anything. Everything he felt, he would tell me,” she said.
A letter from Gonzalez, 20, arrived at his parents’ Rialto, Calif., home two days after his March 23 death. Written in Spanish while he was still in a desert camp, the letter contained good news — and a wish. He had just spoken to his wife by phone and learned about the birth of their son.
“If you can wait a little longer, we’ll see each other in summer. God willing,” he wrote.
Looking at the letter with her son’s neat handwriting, his mother said, “I was waiting for you, my love.”
Navy Hospital Corpsman 3rd Class Michael Vann Johnson Jr., 25, sent his mother in Little Rock, Ark., a letter preparing her for the worst.
“Mom, I love you and don’t be afraid if I don’t return, realize I’m in heaven with God,” he wrote.
Johnson’s mother, Jana Norfleet, said her son’s letter has comforted her since she learned of his March 25 death.
“He was kind of trying to prepare me. He said go on and be happy,” she said.
Wade Lieseke almost couldn’t bring himself to open the letter that arrived in Tonopah, Nev., three days after 2nd Lt. Frederick E. Pokorney Jr., 31, died on March 23.
“I just stared at it for a long time,” said Lieseke, a former Nye County sheriff. “I knew it was probably the last letter he wrote.”
Pokorney lived with Lieseke during part of his high school years after his mother died and his father left town to find work.
In the letter, Pokorney told Lieseke he couldn’t say where his unit was but was impatient to either cross the border into Iraq or return to the United States. He said wanted to be home in time for his daughter’s birthday. Pokorney’s wife lives in Jacksonville, N.C., outside Camp Lejeune.
“It was obvious that he missed his family and that he wanted to get this done and go home to them,” Lieseke said. “Here’s Fred, thinking about his family, like he always does.”
As his ship headed toward Iraq last month, Marine Lance Cpl. Brian Rory Buesing, 20, of Cedar Key, Fla., told his family he understood what lay ahead.
“I didn’t travel halfway around the world on a boat full of seamen to stand around and train,” he wrote.
In a lighter moment, he cheered the Super Bowl victory of the Tampa Bay Buccaneers and said he wanted to be home by his birthday in August.
“Don’t want to turn 21 in Iraq,” he wrote.
Outside the Costa Mesa, Calif., family home of Marine Cpl. Jose Angel Garibay, his uncle shared the last words the 21-year-old wrote before his March 23 death.
“Mom, don’t worry. I’m OK,” began the letter. “It’s not so bad. There are some girls here.”
Garibay also wrote of his relief of preparing for war without the responsibility of a wife, a pregnant girlfriend or a child. The uncle, Urbano Garibay, said Garibay’s mother was hoping for one more letter so she can have another memory of her son.
“She is going to put the letters in a frame and hang them on the wall,” he said. “When his nieces and nephews grow up, they can see them and read them, and know him.”
Rosacker’s father, assigned as chief of boat for the ballistic missile submarine Alabama, had returned home after several months away only to hear that night about his son’s death.
“I haven’t read them all. I can’t do it right now,” Rosacker said of letters written by his son. “But I will, eventually.”
One of the few he read reminded him of his son’s humor. It was written on the back of a noodles-and-butter sauce MRE, prepackaged military food.
“Just thought I’d send a postcard to you guys. Ha. Ha. I ate this for dinner last night. It’s pretty cool in the mornings. We had a hell of a sandstorm today. I can’t wait to visit you guys and everyone. Love, Randy,” he wrote.
The last letter Donna Bellman of Ventura, Calif., received from her son, Marine Sgt. Michael Bitz, was postmarked Jan. 17, five days after he was deployed. Bitz, 31, was killed March 23 near Nasiriyah.
Through tears, she read: “Honestly between God, you and I, I would rather be home with my wife and kids.
The night he shipped out, he said, he went to the beach with his wife, then pregnant, and 2-year-old son. His wife gave birth to twins in February.
“So you can probably imagine it, those last five minutes were the hardest of my life. We were both full of tears.”
He continued: “I am sure that God will watch over me and I will return home safe.”
Associated Press writers Ken Ritter in Las Vegas, Amanda Riddle and Sandra Marquez in Los Angeles, Mark Jewell in Indianapolis and Caryn Rousseau in Little Rock, Ark., contributed to this report.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Copyright 2003 The Associated Press
Sempers,
Roger
By Chelsea Carter
Associated Press
The letters arrived regularly from Marine Cpl. Randy Rosacker.
Some were homemade postcards, fashioned from empty containers of prepackaged food. Others were longer, private thoughts from a son in Kuwait to a family awaiting his return.
They were his last words. The 21-year-old from San Diego was killed March 23 in an ambush near Nasiriyah, Iraq.
For some, the last letters of those killed in the war have become a source of comfort, full of words of love, gratitude and reflection. For others, they are mementos to be shared years from now when small children have grown or when somebody asks about a son or daughter lost in battle.
“They’re a gift, I guess,” said Rosacker’s father, Navy Command Master Chief Rod Rosacker of Bremerton, Wash. “Something to remember him by, something to share.”
Most letters are filled with descriptions of camp life and horrendous sandstorms. Some contain wishes for CDs and candy. All offer declarations of love, wishes for quick reunions and an understanding of the danger ahead.
Rosa Gonzalez said the letters from her son, Marine Cpl. Jorge Gonzalez, gave her a sense of peace and that nothing was left unsaid.
“He didn’t hold back anything. Everything he felt, he would tell me,” she said.
A letter from Gonzalez, 20, arrived at his parents’ Rialto, Calif., home two days after his March 23 death. Written in Spanish while he was still in a desert camp, the letter contained good news — and a wish. He had just spoken to his wife by phone and learned about the birth of their son.
“If you can wait a little longer, we’ll see each other in summer. God willing,” he wrote.
Looking at the letter with her son’s neat handwriting, his mother said, “I was waiting for you, my love.”
Navy Hospital Corpsman 3rd Class Michael Vann Johnson Jr., 25, sent his mother in Little Rock, Ark., a letter preparing her for the worst.
“Mom, I love you and don’t be afraid if I don’t return, realize I’m in heaven with God,” he wrote.
Johnson’s mother, Jana Norfleet, said her son’s letter has comforted her since she learned of his March 25 death.
“He was kind of trying to prepare me. He said go on and be happy,” she said.
Wade Lieseke almost couldn’t bring himself to open the letter that arrived in Tonopah, Nev., three days after 2nd Lt. Frederick E. Pokorney Jr., 31, died on March 23.
“I just stared at it for a long time,” said Lieseke, a former Nye County sheriff. “I knew it was probably the last letter he wrote.”
Pokorney lived with Lieseke during part of his high school years after his mother died and his father left town to find work.
In the letter, Pokorney told Lieseke he couldn’t say where his unit was but was impatient to either cross the border into Iraq or return to the United States. He said wanted to be home in time for his daughter’s birthday. Pokorney’s wife lives in Jacksonville, N.C., outside Camp Lejeune.
“It was obvious that he missed his family and that he wanted to get this done and go home to them,” Lieseke said. “Here’s Fred, thinking about his family, like he always does.”
As his ship headed toward Iraq last month, Marine Lance Cpl. Brian Rory Buesing, 20, of Cedar Key, Fla., told his family he understood what lay ahead.
“I didn’t travel halfway around the world on a boat full of seamen to stand around and train,” he wrote.
In a lighter moment, he cheered the Super Bowl victory of the Tampa Bay Buccaneers and said he wanted to be home by his birthday in August.
“Don’t want to turn 21 in Iraq,” he wrote.
Outside the Costa Mesa, Calif., family home of Marine Cpl. Jose Angel Garibay, his uncle shared the last words the 21-year-old wrote before his March 23 death.
“Mom, don’t worry. I’m OK,” began the letter. “It’s not so bad. There are some girls here.”
Garibay also wrote of his relief of preparing for war without the responsibility of a wife, a pregnant girlfriend or a child. The uncle, Urbano Garibay, said Garibay’s mother was hoping for one more letter so she can have another memory of her son.
“She is going to put the letters in a frame and hang them on the wall,” he said. “When his nieces and nephews grow up, they can see them and read them, and know him.”
Rosacker’s father, assigned as chief of boat for the ballistic missile submarine Alabama, had returned home after several months away only to hear that night about his son’s death.
“I haven’t read them all. I can’t do it right now,” Rosacker said of letters written by his son. “But I will, eventually.”
One of the few he read reminded him of his son’s humor. It was written on the back of a noodles-and-butter sauce MRE, prepackaged military food.
“Just thought I’d send a postcard to you guys. Ha. Ha. I ate this for dinner last night. It’s pretty cool in the mornings. We had a hell of a sandstorm today. I can’t wait to visit you guys and everyone. Love, Randy,” he wrote.
The last letter Donna Bellman of Ventura, Calif., received from her son, Marine Sgt. Michael Bitz, was postmarked Jan. 17, five days after he was deployed. Bitz, 31, was killed March 23 near Nasiriyah.
Through tears, she read: “Honestly between God, you and I, I would rather be home with my wife and kids.
The night he shipped out, he said, he went to the beach with his wife, then pregnant, and 2-year-old son. His wife gave birth to twins in February.
“So you can probably imagine it, those last five minutes were the hardest of my life. We were both full of tears.”
He continued: “I am sure that God will watch over me and I will return home safe.”
Associated Press writers Ken Ritter in Las Vegas, Amanda Riddle and Sandra Marquez in Los Angeles, Mark Jewell in Indianapolis and Caryn Rousseau in Little Rock, Ark., contributed to this report.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Copyright 2003 The Associated Press
Sempers,
Roger