Clay, We Hardly Knew Thee

Army Specialist Clay Farr was born in Bakersfield on February 19, 1985. He died in Baghdad on February 26, 2006, when the Humvee in which he was patrolling was hit by a roadside bomb, or what we’ve come to know as an improvised explosive device (IED). A second soldier was killed with him. Specialist Farr will be buried in Arlington National Cemetery. I am grateful for Clay.

The newspaper carried a photo of Clay’s cousin, a Navy Corpsman, saluting the casket at the memorial service yesterday. He was wearing a Purple Heart ribbon on his uniform, undoubtedly earned in Iraq or Afghanistan. I am grateful for Clay's cousin.

On February 19, 2004, my oldest son, also a Navy Corpsman, deployed to Iraq with the First Marine Division. On May 13, 2004, the Humvee in which he was riding was hit by an IED. A Marine sitting three to four feet from my son was killed; another sitting opposite my son was severely wounded. My son suffered third degree burns on his leg and back, other second degree burns, a number of shrapnel wounds, and a severe concussion. He now wears a Purple Heart ribbon, along with a Navy Commendation Medal with Valor distinction. He earned that medal by providing immediate medical aid to the wounded Marines while his uniform was still on fire. That fire came from the white phosphorus in the IED. It was hot enough to burn through his boots and part of his flak jacket. It melted the holster that carried his sidearm. The blast was strong enough to rip an armored door off the Humvee and bend a one-inch thick steel gun mount. It took a year for him to recover from his wounds. I am grateful for my son and the Marines who were with him that day.

On May 3, 2004, 10 days before my son was hit, the son of a woman with whom I work was killed in Balad, Iraq, when the Humvee he was traveling in overturned and rolled into a canal. Army Staff Sergeant Marvin Sprayberry drowned, along with three other soldiers with him. He was a 24-year old mechanic who was trying to help other soldiers stranded by a mechanical problem with their vehicle. His death was regarded as a “non-combat” death. He is buried in Arlington National Cemetery. I am grateful for Marvin and the soldier who were with him that day.

By the way, can we stop the ridiculous designation of deaths in Iraq and Afghanistan as combat related and non-combat related? But for the combat in Iraq and Afghanistan, none of our men and women would have died there. They are all combat deaths.

A month after Clay Farr was born, my stepson was born in Bakersfield on March 29, 1985. He is now a political science major at the University of California at San Diego. He is not going to Iraq; he is not going to get severely burned by white phosphorus; his is not going to wear a Purple Heart ribbon; he is not going to be buried in Arlington. For my stepson and all those things, I am grateful.

I told Marvin’s mother at his memorial service that I was overwhelmed by the utter randomness of these events. Two young men are serving in Iraq in May 2004 – one survives a violent explosion; another dies in a vehicle accident. One parent feels grateful beyond words; another parent grieves beyond words. Two boys are born in early 1985 and raised in Bakersfield just miles from each other – one dies in war in Iraq and one lives in peace in San Diego. February 19th – a day marked with solemnity by two families – one marks the birth of a child; the other marks the birth of a man. Two Army soldiers die; two Navy Corpsmen live. Two are buried in Arlington; two continue to provide medical care to those who may one day be buried in Arlington. All four have Purple Hearts; only two have seen them.

Stories like these must be told. Stories like these must stop being written. Young men have served with honor, courage and commitment in war. Young men should now serve with honor, courage and commitment in peace.