[Vision2020] Quest for the Truth

Tom Hansen thansen at moscow.com
Tue Aug 29 11:46:46 PDT 2006


>From the September 4, 2006 edition of the Army Times -

------------------------------------------------------------

Quest for the truth

Families of friendly-fire casualties are sometimes the last to know what
happened

By Michelle Tan
Staff writer
 
Sgt. Donald Oaks Jr., 20, 3rd Infantry Division, killed April 3, 2003, in
Iraq in an F-15 bombing.

Pfc. Jesse Buryj died 13 days after Cpl. Pat Tillman. Just as his enlistment
in the Army attracted none of the fanfare the former pro football player's
did, his funeral was a quiet family service, a world apart from the
nationally televised memorial for Tillman. 

But in both cases, their loved ones initially were told they died either by
enemy fire or during movement to evade hostile action. And in both cases,
the families only learned later that the truth was far different from what
they were told. 

Their experiences are common among the family members of troops who died in
friendly fire, those killed by their comrades rather than the enemy. Many of
these family members told Army Times of deep frustrations with the
casualty-notification system and months or years of depressing delays in
getting answers to explain the deaths of their loved ones. 

The Tillman family has publicly complained about how the Army handled his
death, first saying he was killed by enemy forces during a firefight in
Afghanistan, then admitting he was killed by another Ranger. The Army opened
a criminal investigation into his death. And the office of the Defense
Department inspector general is conducting an ongoing investigation into the
Army's handling of Tillman's death and events afterward. 

Meanwhile, Peggy Buryj continues to search for the truth behind the death of
her only son. He was 21 when he died in Karbalah, Iraq, on May 5, 2004. In
January 2006, the Army opened an investigation into his death, largely
because of his mother's persistent questioning. 

"He's gone"

Jesse Buryj left Canton, Ohio, for basic training Sept. 17, 2002. He was
later assigned to the 66th Military Police Company at Fort Lewis, Wash., and
he went to Kuwait, headed for Iraq, in February 2004. Less than two months
after he arrived in Iraq, Peggy and Steve Buryj were at home when there was
a knock on the door. It was a soldier, and their son's wife, Amber. 

"I wouldn't open the door," Peggy Buryj said. "She'd been crying, and she
looked at me and she said, "He's gone.""

The casualty notification officer said Jesse Buryj was thrown from a Humvee
after a truck tried to run a checkpoint, and he died from his injuries. 

"That's what we knew when we buried him," Peggy Buryj said. "We didn't know
any better."

But a few months later, Amber Buryj gave her mother-in-law a copy of her
husband's death certificate, which said the soldier was killed by a
"penetrating gunshot wound to the back."

"We did not know Jesse was shot," Peggy Buryj said. "From then on, my
journey was to find out what happened to Jesse."

It took her seven months after receiving the death certificate to get an
autopsy report. Two months later, in April 2005, the family sat down with
Army officials for a briefing to learn what happened to their son.

In the briefing, the family was told Jesse Buryj was on a joint mission with
the Polish army when he died. Officials didn't know the source of the bullet
that killed their son.

"I told them, "Hey, if you don't want to deal with mourning families, then
recruit orphans," Peggy Buryj said. Jesse "was on loan to the U.S. Army. He
had a life here and a family that loves him."

Unsatisfied, Peggy Buryj called the Polish Embassy and talked to their army
representatives, who said they had nothing to do with her son's death.

Several months later, in January 2006, the Defense Department inspector
general opened a new investigation into Jesse Buryj's death. His mother said
she was told investigators have collected the U.S. weapons involved in the
incident for ballistics comparisons.

"This is just crap," she said. "I understand the fog of war, I understand
friendly fire. I don't understand why they make families wait and wait. I
just think it's totally wrong. We lost our son. All I ever want to know is
what happened to him. Even if they said, "We can't figure out what
happened," I can understand that. I don't understand being strung along. 

"It's not that I want somebody punished. I want to know the truth."

16 friendly-fire deaths

At least 16 soldiers have died as a result of friendly fire during
operations in Iraq and Afghanistan, according to information obtained by
Army Times under the Freedom of Information Act. At least six other
incidents involving the deaths of nine U.S. soldiers are still under
investigation as possible fratricide.

Of the 16 confirmed friendly fire incidents, the families of at least five
soldiers, including Tillman and Buryj, have had to fight to find out what
really happened to their loved ones.

"Any cases where a family is told their loved one died in another way than
they did is regretful," said Col. Dan Baggio, an Army spokesman. "It's not
something we do in practice. For the most part, we do a pretty good job.
Those [incidents] seem like anomalies."

The Army has worked hard to reduce the number of friendly fire incidents,
Baggio said, crediting technology, training and capable soldiers for the
decrease in fratricide. 

The 16 friendly-fire deaths are by far the lowest of any modern war.

"Even though 16 seems like a low number, one is too many," he said. "Even
though we"' e making progress, we're still not satisfied."

Tillman, 27, turned down a multimillion-dollar professional football
contract to join the Army after the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks. Tillman and his
brother, Kevin, were serving together in Afghanistan when Tillman was killed
April 22, 2004.

Tillman's family was told that he was killed by enemy fire during a fierce
gun battle. He was posthumously awarded a Silver Star. Five weeks after the
initial casualty notification, the family was told that Tillman's death was
fratricide.

In the midst of all the reviews and investigations, a July 21 memo from the
Army said "posthumous valor awards must always reflect accurately the actual
events and circumstances for which the award is being presented."

The Army also quietly updated AR 600-8-1, the regulation that deals with the
Army's casualty program, effective May 7, to include casualty reporting,
notification and assistance.

According to Col. Patrick M. Gawkins, director of the Casualty and Memorial
Affairs Operations Center, major changes in the updated policy require that:

. Battalion commanders or a designated field-grade officer review all
casualty reports for accuracy.

. The casualty notification officer stay on and serve as the casualty
assistance officer for parents who are the secondary next of kin.

. The battalion commander of the deployed force write a letter of sympathy
to the next of kin. Unit commanders also must make telephone contact with
the soldier's family within a week of the soldier's death.

. Rear detachments make telephone contact with the family of a wounded
soldier within two hours of receiving the casualty report.

. Commanders initiate an AR 15-6 investigation into all hostile deaths.

. Whenever possible, an Army chaplain accompanies the casualty notification
officer. If a chaplain is not available, the second member of the
notification team may be a staff sergeant or above.

In June, Chaplain (Maj. Gen.) David H. Hicks, the Army's chief of chaplains,
signed a memo calling for chaplains to support as many notifications as
possible.

The Army also is beefing up its training for casualty notification and
assistance officers, Gawkins said.

A program through the psychiatry department at the University of California
in San Francisco will provide training on reactions to grief and
bereavement, something the Army has lacked in the past, he said. The program
includes guidelines on how to deliver casualty notifications, how to notify
children, and cultural and spiritual sensitivity.

Also, the Army plans to create a mobile training team to provide instruction
on casualty assistance. 

Families that lose a loved one to fratricide probably deal with a unique
range of emotions, said an Army official at the Pentagon who spoke on
background.

"It's not easy to lose a loved one by an enemy's bullet, but it's got to be
psychologically harder for it to be one of your own," the official said.
"You can imagine the psychological trauma to find out your son or daughter
was killed accidentally by your own troops."

The family of 1st Lt. Leif Nott was told within days of his July 30, 2003,
death that he had been killed in Iraq by friendly forces. But the weeks and
months afterward left his father, a retired Army first sergeant who lives in
Cheyenne, Wyo., and the rest of his family angry and desperate for
information.

"We were asking and calling the entire time" for details, said Les Nott, the
soldier's father and a 23-year Army veteran. "In fact, we got so desperate
we went to Fort Hood when the unit came back from Iraq."

Les Nott and his wife, Raffaella, traveled to Fort Hood, Texas, in May 2004.
They spent about 10 days there, together with Leif Nott's wife, Melanie.
They finally learned bits and pieces of what happened to their son from a
soldier with him on the night he was killed. Sgt. Mickey Anderson had been
badly injured in the same incident that killed Nott.

On July 30, 2003, in Balad Ruz, about 40 miles northeast of Baghdad, Leif
Nott, Anderson and two other soldiers were tasked to bring an interpreter to
a group of soldiers waiting in two Bradley armored vehicles. They were
investigating gunshots from a nearby neighborhood.

Turns out the gunshots were to celebrate a wedding, Les Nott said.

The soldiers, with help from Leif Nott and his team, responded on foot and
confiscated an AK47 and detained three men. While walking back, other
soldiers at the base mistook their comrades for the enemy and opened fire,
killing Nott. Anderson and one other soldier were wounded. 

But Nott's family was given none of the details. They finally decided to ask
their representatives in congress for help in learning what happened.

The Army, after prodding from the politicians, reopened the investigation
into the incident, Les Nott said.

"I believe they knew that the investigation wasn't complete," he said. "They
knew that there were questions that hadn't been answered, questions that
hadn't been asked and should've been asked. It had already been almost a
year, and they just preferred to believe it was over, better not talk about
it."

On Jan. 22, 2005, the Nott family finally got a full briefing from the Army
about how their son died.

"It makes me ashamed of the United States Army," Les Nott said. "I served
proudly for 23 years and I, to this day, can't believe we were treated like
that."

Unpleasant surprises

Chief Warrant Officer 2 Stanley Harriman, of Wade, N.C., died March 2, 2002,
in Afghanistan when an AC-130 hit his convoy after mistaking it for the
enemy. 

But his wife, Sheila, was told he was killed by enemy mortar fire, according
to a report by CBS news. A few weeks later, a reporter from a local
television station knocked on her door. He told her the Army was
investigating her husband's death as possible fratricide. That was the first
time she had heard that her husband was a possible victim of friendly fire,
CBS reported.

Members of Staff Sgt. Brian Hellermann's family didn't know for almost two
years that he had been killed by friendly fire. 

Hellermann, of Freeport, Minn., and Pfc. Kyle Gilbert of Brattleboro, Vt. "
both members of the 82nd Airborne Division " were killed when they were
caught in crossfire during an ambush Aug. 6, 2003, in Baghdad. 

"Why didn't they tell us off the bat" asked Sue Ritter, Hellermann's sister.


Gilbert was also killed by friendly fire, but his family members could not
be reached for comment.

Ritter, of Avon, Minn., said a soldier who was with her brother during the
ambush was not allowed to tell them that Hellermann died by friendly fire.
The soldier became a family friend because he is a fellow Minnesotan, and
after he left the Army he was able to tell the family what happened, she
said.

Ritter said Hellermann's wife, Michelle, also went to the Army, demanding
information about his death.

"To me, honestly, it doesn't matter if it was enemy fire or friendly fire.
It's still war. It still happened. Nothing can change it. However, I don't
think [the Army] should've played the game like that," Ritter said. "You go
through that healing thing and for them to come back with all that extra
stuff, it makes you go through it again. It just brings it all back up."

First Lt. Ken Ballard, 26, a fourth-generation soldier, enlisted in the Army
after high school and became a tank loader.

"He talked about green Army men, he drew tank battles," said his mother,
Karen Meredith of Mountain View, Calif. "He loved being a soldier."

Two years later, Ballard decided to go to college, and in May 2002 he was
commissioned as an officer. He was assigned to 2nd Battalion, 37th Armor,
1st Armored Division, in Germany, the same unit he belonged to as an
enlisted soldier.

Ballard got to Iraq on May 12, 2003. On April 3, 2004, almost a year after
arriving in Iraq, Ballard and his unit turned in their weapons and prepared
to go home. But fierce firefights broke out in the Sadr City neighborhood of
Baghdad, their area of operations, and the unit's 12-month deployment was
extended by three months.

"They were in battle every single day, sometimes lasting up to seven hours,"
Meredith said. "We had planned his welcome-home party for May 22, and he was
killed on May 30."

When he died, "every deal I made with God was off," she said. "Every prayer
was unanswered, and I just didn't know what my life was going to be. We were
on our own since he was 10 months old, so we were a team."

When officials notified Meredith of her son's death, they said he was killed
by enemy fire. Two days later, they said it was a single gunshot wound to
the head, she said.

Her casualty assistance officer never contacted her again after her son's
memorial service 10 days after his death, Meredith said. It took five months
to get Ballard's personal effects, and she didn't get his death certificate
for about 100 days, she said.

Meredith was told to file a Freedom of Information Act request for the
incident report and the autopsy.

"I just wanted to know what happened that night," Meredith said. "His unit
was still in Iraq. His friends were still there."

Fifteen months after her son's death and after seeking help from her local
congresswoman, Meredith finally learned how her son died.

"Imagine, here I've moved on [with] my life 15 months, and all of a sudden
my scab is ripped open, my heart is ripped open," Meredith said. "We're
talking about our little boys. The Tillman family has had to go through this
for almost two years, too."

On that faraway battlefield on May 30, 2005, it was late, almost midnight.
The soldiers were in battle, and they were about to pull out, Meredith said.
Ballard's tank provided cover fire so the rest of the platoon could back up
the tanks and leave the area.

Ballard was standing in the commander's hatch when the tank backed into a
tree, Meredith said. The tree branch engaged the unmanned M240 machine gun
on the tank, causing it to fire on Ballard, killing him.

Ballard's actions that night saved 60 lives, Meredith said the Army told her
at his memorial service.

All she wanted was to know what really happened, Meredith said.

"You can't treat Army families like that," she said. "If somebody knows the
truth, you have to tell us."
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Pro patria,

Tom Hansen
Moscow, Idaho

"Patriotism is not a short and frenzied outburst of emotion but the tranquil
and steady dedication of a lifetime." 
 
--Adlai E. Stevenson, Jr.





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