Honor The Fallen

The past three Memorial Days, I’ve thought about these three guys:
- Max Soviak of Berlin Heights, Ohio
- Daegan Page of Omaha, Nebraska
- Hunter Lopez of Indio, California

Perhaps you forgot - Kabul, the capital of Afghanistan, was recaptured by The Taliban in August 2021, after an offensive beginning that May and, of course, the twenty years of war with the US preceding that offensive. The final hope of any Afghans fleeing to escape Taliban occupation relied on the success of the Kabul Airport and its departing flights. The United States assisted in the mass evacuation.

On August 26th, an ISIS suicide bomber entered the airport and detonated his belt, lifting innocents from their feet and devolving the terminal gates into hopeless closed doors. Terror and chaos supervened as ISIS opened fire into the crowd. American soldiers returned gunfire.

Max, Daegan, and Hunter were killed in action, along with 10 other American service members protecting the airport, and 170 Afghans civilians.

Max and Hunter were 22-years-old, Daegan was 23, when the trio exited this Earth to be welcomed into the magnificent hall of Valhalla.

They were our age - kids - with a passionate thirst for adventure and glory. Just like us, with parents and brothers and sisters and ex-girlfriends and razor bumps and acne scars and regrettable tattoos. With interests and hobbies and insecurities and awkward-phase pictures and occasional bad haircuts. With playground dreams, with favorite movies, characters, shows, soldiers, with glory-day stories of passes caught and home runs hit. With triumphs and defeats, hits and misses, a lifetime scorecard of wins and losses. With uncouth, irreverent, and reckless profanity-laced Instagram captions that capture that characteristic American brash youthfulness that’s within all of us.

Dammit, they were just “trynna be on the kill side,” straddling the line between order and chaos, sacred and profane, defending our country one day, wearing bucket hats and sipping Naturdays on boats the next.

They were some good ol’ American patriots just like us. Also, they were warriors.

Max was a cliff-diver and practiced jiu jitsu. “Corpsman Up” is a command for a Navy corpsman to provide immediate medical aid in a life-saving situation. Max heard this call moments after the bomb detonated, and rushed to save a mother and child. This was his final act at 22 years old.

Lopez’s best friend would tell the Red Robin waitress that it was Hunter’s birthday every single time they went. He prevented two small Afghan girls from getting crushed by the crowd in his last moments.

Daegan played hockey and skateboarded and loved his girlfriend. “Death Over Dishonor” is tattooed permanently on his chest. He called his shot, forever preserving his word and his sacred honor.

This article goes into brief detail about only three of the soldiers who gave all that day. There were 10 more lost on August 26th, 2021, including Sergeant Nicole Gee, who posted this picture of her holding an Afghan baby with the caption: “I love my job 🤘🏼” only one week before her death. This article also does not mention the 61,000 members of the US military who have died since 1980, or the half a million who have died since our Civil War.

None of them were bullet points in some news article or statistics on some chart or made-up names for some kid’s blog. Each of these soldiers was an individual with his own complex, well-lived life, with his own thoughts and emotions and network of people who cared about him.

Whether they were drafted, enlisted, went through OCS, or were the golden fifth-generation academy soldier, each of them chose a life of service, selflessness, courage, bravery, and sacrifice, in the pursuit of liberating people longing to be free.

It was a bunch of kids like us involved in the largest seaborne invasion in history - young men aged 18 to their late 20s stormed Normandy in 1944 and forever changed the trajectory of the world. I played volleyball with my brothers on the beach today, because they died on the beach that day.

Here’s my point, and what I suggest you consider when reflecting on our fallen soldiers: It could have been you, and it hasn’t been. Good fortune or fate led you to be born into post-WWII superpower America, and allowed you to live long enough to read this and have the freedom to pursue everything else you enjoy in life. We must always be grateful, recognize the cost of our freedom, and share the stories of the fallen.

American boys hate to lose. Make sure each loss of life wasn’t a total loss. Live a life worthy of their sacrifice. 

All gave some, some gave all.