Following the Worst Day

The details of the days and weeks following the death of SSG Tirador are mostly forgotten by me. What I do remember was that there was a lot going on at the time...as there always seems to be for a cavalry squadron out on the edge of the world. To say Amy's death was a distraction seems extraordinarily harsh and cruel, but it was a distraction. A distraction that, looking back, I needed. I had been so focused on PowerPoint products, targeting meetings, and daily briefings that I was neglecting the health of my section.


Within a few days of Tirador's death I got on a Black Hawk helicopter and flew from COP COBRA down to FOB CALDWELL where the other half of my section resided. Before I left I requested permission to go from the S3. I assumed it was courtesy request and that the S3 would give me carte blache to be wherever I felt like I needed to be. When I went into his office and stated that I would like to go to Caldwell this was his response:


"Why? We have a lot of work here to do."


To say I was at a loss for words is an understatement. Why? Why? What kind of unfeeling, knuckle dragging, incompetent leader was I dealing with here? Oh yeah, our operations officer who was universally despised by every officer on the staff.


"Sir, I need to check on my guys. Make sure they're doing alright. I'll have no problem getting done what needs to be done from Caldwell."


Obviously, since I mentioned it above, I got on the bird to Caldwell. As I got off the helicopter the supply officer a couple of others were carrying several footlockers and placing them on the Black Hawk which was stopping at the brigade HQ at FOB WARHORSE. After all the footlockers were on the helicopter it dawned on me that they were SSG Tirador's personal effects. The situation became real again.


After a couple of days at Caldwell I jumped on the Squadron Commander's convoy to Warhorse for SSG Tirador's memorial ceremony. It was decided that the ceremony would be done there instead of Caldwell because Amy was officially assigned to the brigade's military intelligence company and this way more people, especially her friends, could be at the ceremony. I had been asked if I wanted to speak during the memorial but I politely declined. It didn't feel right to me as I was still blaming myself for her death. Sitting through the memorial trying not to break down was emotionally one of the most difficult things I've ever done. All military memorials are emotionally difficult. A memorial for one of your soldiers...a memorial where you have an assigned seat with your name on it...I don't have the vocabulary to describe it.


After the ceremony I walked outside and stood by alone with my thoughts for some time. The squadron XO eventually found me and talked with me for awhile. He said quite a bit but what has stuck with me was, "Mike, this wasn't your fault. Don't you dare blame yourself for this. You didn't cause her to do this to herself. You were not overly hard on her, you never yelled at her. This wasn't your fault. Remember that."


The XO had a saying he continually brought up in our training leading up to the deployment and our first few months in country:


"We have yet to see our worst day in Iraq."


As the XO turned to leave I said, "Sir, I think we've just had our worst day."


He looked back at me and said, "We'll see."