Leif Selected as Top Gunner of the Basic Antiarmor Course - 1998

In the extra training Leif was selected to take after infantry basic at Fort Benning, Georgia, the Basic Antiarmor Course, he was selected as the Top Gunner. That was the reason he was the one who got to fire the incredibly expensive round to destroy a tank.

This is the Certificate of Achievement he received that May 1998. He was very proud of having been selected for that course, and of having been the top student in the class. Leif liked blowing things up, and he liked shooting guns. He admired them as fine weapons and pieces of engineering and design. When he started purchasing his own guns, he chose carefully. As his friend Michael said, "Leif always had the best."

He was trained as a machine gunner, and got orders to be stationed with the 10th Mountain Division at Fort Drum, New York.

Leif - Graduation from Infantry Basic Training - April 1998 - Fort Benning, Georgia

Leif chose infantry as his army MOS (occupational specialty) and that made his training that much harder physically, but it was made even harder by having to do it with a broken bone in his foot. Ironically, during first aid and medical training, another recruit tripped and fell on Leif's foot, breaking a bone. Leif was determined to complete basic with his unit and managed to walk and run on that broken foot to do it.

We went to Fort Benning with Nikko for the graduation ceremony, and watched the demonstrations and marching with pride. Leif was the tallest man in his unit, and his military bearing was outstanding. The first photo was taken right after the graduation ceremony, on the parade field.

The second one was taken a day or so later, when we had to take Leif back to his barracks and say goodbye. Most of the class was leaving that day, but he had been selected for further training in armaments and had to stay another couple of weeks. That training also included learning to use and fire a new, very expensive weapon. I don't know the name of it, but he was the only man in the training who actually got to fire a live round and blow up a tank. That was a big thrill for him, and he calculated the cost to the government of that one round he got to fire. It was many thousands of dollars.

Leif had also been selected to be a machine gunner, which pleased him immensely. More about that later.

It was beautiful, warm spring weather in Georgia, and we had a very nice time while there.

The Tragic Seeker

I wasn't going to interrupt the photos and account of Leif's military career but I have to. Last night we went to the Phantom of the Opera production at the Tampa Bay Performing Arts Center. We had never been there before, and I couldn't help thinking that if Leif were alive, we might well have taken him with us. I wish he could have seen it. We saw Phantom years ago in Kansas City, but other than the music, it's amazing how much of it we had forgotten.

In the past year, the two choruses I sing with each have selected Andrew Lloyd Webber songs, and as with other music, I've found that the words and music speak to me of Leif, especially "Think of Me," "All I Ask of You," and "Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again."

"Think of Me," I can imagine in Leif's mind, as he would think of his past loves, his family. I can also imagine it in my mind, hoping that he would think of me. It's a beautiful song, but I see it so differently now.

"All I Ask of You," has a double poignancy, sung by Christine and Raoul, the two lovers, and by the Phantom, who loves and needs Christine. Phantom, the tragic musical genius and seeker of love, shunned by society because of his looks, an outsider who can never have what he truly needs.

Leif was an attractive man, but his blemish was of another kind, his introversion, his penchant for getting into financial trouble, but like Phantom, he sought a love to make him whole, and like Phantom, he wanted to shape his love into the perfect object of his love.

Leif in some sense belongs in the group of literary men who want to take a "damsel in distress" or poverty (think of Shaw's "Pygmalion," the inspiration for "My Fair Lady," as well as the Phantom and Christine, a chorus girl pining for her dead father) and make her into a fine lady.

"Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again," which Christine sings in front of her father's grave, brought tears to my eyes. How I wish Leif were somehow here again! She sang it with such longing and grief, feeling from the soul, and I know just what Christine felt.

The staging was spectacular. Just the engineering of it would have engaged Leif's mind. He would have loved this show. I wonder if he would have seen any of the things I saw in it. Perhaps not, if he were still alive.

It was a magical, beautiful evening for us, but Leif was there, if only in my mind.

He was a tragic seeker of love, my lonely son, a seeker of his place in the world, a place he never found.
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The photo above was taken in May 1998 when Leif came back to Kansas from infantry basic training to pack up and move to Fort Drum, New York. He was 23.

Leif in Uniform - Columbus, Georgia - March 1998

Midway through the basic training cycle, parents and family members were allowed to visit their recruits at Fort Benning. We flew down and rented a car and got a room at the Super-8 Motel in Columbus, Georgia. Leif was allowed off base to be with us, and I took this photo of him in his uniform in the motel room. Unfortunately, I didn't get other photos of him in uniform on this trip, because he really wanted to wear civvies (civilian clothes) while he could, after two months in uniform.

Nikko drove down with a friend and stayed at the motel, too. The two were happy to have some time together again, even though it was very brief! We all could go out to lunch and dinner and see a bit of Columbus.

Leif had lost a lot of weight and was looking very strac (Skilled, Tough, Ready Around (the) Clock - a soldier who is totally squared-away in every aspect). He had impeccable military bearing.

We all hated to say goodbye, knowing we wouldn't see him until late in April when he graduated with his basic infantry class. As usual, Leif was stoic, the outwardly unflappable, unemotional man, though I'm sure there was plenty going on inside.

Leif Predicted the Election of Obama

Last February, Leif sent me a text message predicting that Obama would win by a landslide. How I wish Leif were here to see it, to see the outstanding speech he gave.

Leif at the Recruiting Station - January 12, 1998 - Manhattan, Kansas - Age 23

During the fall semester of 1997, when Leif was working full time nights at Aggieville Pizza and trying to manage a schedule of classes at KSU, and falling so far behind in debt that he couldn't make it, he finally dropped out of school and decided to enlist in the army. Because the infantry was paying the largest enlistment bonus, and because it had the reputation as the "real" fighting army, the boots on the ground, and because he knew it would be a challenge, that's the specialty he chose. His dad had advised against it, as he felt Leif was better suited to other specialties, but Leif wanted to be a real soldier, and he felt that way the rest of his life, despite the problems he faced in the infantry.

This photo was taken at the Armed Forces Recruiting Station in Manhattan, Kansas, the day that Leif had to report for duty to be sent to Fort Benning, Georgia for basic training. It was a very cold, gray winter day in Kansas. I was so cold I was still wearing my coat inside the station.

I don't know for sure why I was the only one to take him there that morning, but I believe it was because both Peter W. and Nikko had to work. I drove him there and stayed with him until they took him away. One of the recruiters took the photo of us together. I don't know what Leif was thinking as he left, but he was his usual stoic self and didn't show any emotion.

This was 16 days before his 23rd birthday, so he missed having his birthday with us and Nikko and had to spend it in basic training. We celebrated an early birthday for him in December when we had a large family gathering.

Because Leif had a couple of years of college credits and a very high ASVAB score, he was able to enlist as a private first class, two ranks higher than the usual enlistee, which also gave him a little bit more income. He didn't talk about this with me, but I suspect it also got him some razzing during basic.

Once he left me at the recruiting station that January day, we didn't see him again until the "mid-cycle" days in March when family was allowed to visit the soldiers at Fort Benning.

Jerri, Peter Anthony & Leif - US Air Force Academy - May 1991

We were extraordinarily proud of Peter Anthony's acceptance to and graduation from the U.S. Air Force Academy, and no doubt visits to the Academy while Leif was in junior high and high school continued to excite him about a career in the Air Force like his brother, though Leif wasn't willing to compete academically for a spot at the Academy. I don't know whether at that time he had thought about Air Force ROTC, but I do know how much he wanted to be a pilot in the Air Force.

Ironically, Peter A. hadn't pursued an appointment to the Academy specifically to become a pilot, but he did become one, and that route was barred to Leif due to his nearsightedness.

This photo was taken of me, Peter Anthony and Leif in May 1991 when we were in Colorado Springs at the Academy for Peter Anthony's graduation. It was gorgeous weather and we had a wonderful time. There were ceremonies, parades, dress balls (fancy dances) and more. We flew there from Puerto Rico and were joined by my mother, my brother Donovan, and my sister Lannay, as well as friends from Hawaii and more. Note Leif's signature Oakley sunglasses.

Peter Anthony is still serving his country as an Air Force officer and is now a lieutenant colonel.

By this time (1991), Leif could dream about the Air Force in other ways, but he already knew he could not fly. In earlier visits to the Academy, I'm sure he still ahd those dreams. Leif was just completing his sophomore year in high school in this photo and was 16 years old.

Leif could easily have starred academically. He was brilliant, and he could get through school, including college, without taking notes or studying. He hated studying and homework and all the things that went with achieving academically, and he aimed for a B average and that's what he got.

His reasoning was that he wanted to be above average (and get the good student discount on our auto insurance that we told him he had to have if he wanted to drive), but wasn't willing to put in the time and effort to get As. He wanted to spend his time on other things, or as he put it, "to have a life."

We could never convince him to do otherwise, and it's a shame, because he wanted to meet "smart people," but didn't want to get into the kinds of classes or activities were he actually could do so. He would have been outstanding in several fields as long as he could do the practical, actual things of the work world, but he could never get there because he wasn't willing to punch the academic tickets needed.

He admitted one time that he probably should have gone into science, for his mind excelled at scientific concepts, but he wasn't willing to take the math courses required.

How I wish that today's world would have had more possibilities for a man like him with a mind and abilities but without a formal education to get him in the door. (He did have a bachelor's degree in general social science, but that is not a degree in demand in fields that would have been good for him.)

Leif Tries Out a Fighter Plane Cockpit - circa 1984 - Hawaiii - Age 9

Aside from exciting things like movies and television shows that sparked my sons' interest in the military and aircraft, there were chances like this where Leif got to climb into the cockpit of a fighter plane; heady stuff for a 7-year-old!

Leif wanted to see a fighter plane, up close, so his dad took him to see a plane at Hickam Air Force Base in Honolulu, where we lived from the summer of 1983 to the summer of 1986. This was a National Guard plane and the pilot was there with Leif. He was in the photo but since I don't know who he was or whether he would want his photo online, I cropped it.

In this photo, Leif is wearing kid's camouflage BDUs ("battle dress uniform" for you civilians) that Peter W. bought in Korea when he was there on TDY (temporary duty). Leif was thrilled to have them and loved wearing them.

Little did we know that he would be wearing the adult version for real, though as I've already mentioned, his hoped-for Air Force career was not to be, and as he found out as a high school sophomore, he couldn't be an Air Force pilot because he was too near-sighted.

Leif Saluting, Playing Army - Japan - 1982 - Age 7

I think most boys play "army." I even played it with my brother as a kid. For most, it's just a game that they outgrow, but for Leif, playing army, and playing with toy guns, became a lifelong passion. We couldn't see that when he was small, and it certainly didn't seem obvious when he was in high school in Puerto Rico and Kansas, with long, long hair, an earring, faddish clothes and electric guitars, but he was to return to it as a major theme of this life, even when a military career was denied to him.

This photo was taken sometime in Japan, in our quarters. I think that helmet he has on is his dad's. If the photo were in color, you would see that his jacket was actually dark blue with yellow trim, which looked considerably less military than the black-and-white version, but the earnestness of his salute, and still the innocence in his eyes, is unmistakable.

Since Veteran's Day is coming, it seems fitting to do a series of photos about Leif's military career. Unfortunately, we have few photos of it. We took some on the three occasions we saw him in his army uniform, but have none of him after he was promoted to Specialist 4. We have none at all of him in his Air Force ROTC cadet uniform. I don't think we ever even saw him in it.

When Leif was in college the first time, before he dropped out and enlisted in the army, he had hopes of a career as an Air Force officer and joined Air Force ROTC. He did well in the ROTC classes. Then he was sent to their ROTC summer camp, where he excelled in the classes and leadership, but experienced a crushing failure when he pulled a muscle in his groin and couldn't do the required situps.

They let him sit it out for a few days and then tried again. As I recall, he tried at least three times, but each time he tried to do the situps, the groin muscle would be reinjured and he couldn't do them.

He could do all the other parts of the PT (physical fitness) test, and was doing great in the classes, but for want of situps, he was sent home, failed. It must have hurt him terribly, though typical of Leif, he didn't allow that to show.

He could have tried again the following summer, but it would have put him out of synchronization with what he would have had to do that summer, and put him behind a year for graduation. He didn't want that, and although he didn't say anything like this to us, I believe he also felt disgraced and didn't want to have to go back and explain to others.

It's a shame. The Air Force lost someone who would have been an excellent officer. How many times in a military career does fitness really depend upon the ability to do situps? Well, real fitness for one's job may not require it, but the annual PT test does, and without passing that, a member of the military is in big trouble.

Leif was certainly able to do situps later, or he never would have gotten through Army infantry basic training. He had long since healed, and never had that problem again.

The loss of Leif's Air Force dreams, probably somewhat following in the footsteps and interests of his older brother, must have been a heavy blow to Leif.

A Silent Sisterhood

Before Leif died, I knew families grieved over dead children. I sympathized and thought how awful it would be to lose a son or daughter. I cried when they showed the "Honor Roll" of military men and women who died in Iraq and Afghanistan.

People die; we hear so much in the news, an accident, a fire, a shooting, a drowning, and then the news moves on. The stories only tell the facts, or part of them, only show a moment of grief, and then it's on to another story. We don't absorb either the real loss and sorrow or the length of it, or how many families grieve every day. Each person is someone's son or daughter, and perhaps someone's sister, brother, wife, husband . . . .

Once past the initial frantic days, the scramble to organize a funeral or memorial service, to notify people, to take care of the things left behind by the deceased, people retreat behind a mask of silence, a pretense of normalcy, pretending to be okay even when they are not.

But when they meet, those women who have lost a child, there is a kind recognition, a kind of sisterhood of loss and grief. They are legion, and they are everywhere among you. You just don't know it until you are one of them. I meet them in so many places now, finding many women who understand but don't talk about it until they meet another of that sisterhood.

After years, many no longer weep, at least not often or openly. They tell me it takes two or three years to get to that point. They can talk about their child and what happened, the hurt and sadness still there, but they learn to live with it, to persevere, and not think about it all the time.

Some of them talk to their dead children, no matter how many years have passed; I think most of them do. One mother who suffered the loss of two children told me that she has decided her children are angels and she prays to them, asks them to watch over her. Another visits her child's grave on her birthday and talks to her. Another visits the site where her son's ashes were scattered. Many believe their children can hear them and they take comfort from this.

I talk to Leif. Like a friend who said that with her dying breath she will be asking, "Why?" I, too, ask him why. I tell him I'm sorry that life turned out so sad for him. I tell him I miss him, and much more. But I have no idea whether he's there, whether anything survives death, and even if it does, whether there's anything that passes between those worlds. It doesn't matter. I will talk to him anyway, because I need to.

Some days I think I'm getting over the worst of the grief. I have hours when I'm absorbed in some project and don't think of him for awhile. But there is always getting up in the morning, each morning, and realizing anew that he is gone from my life forever.

Sometimes, I think my sharp sense of sorrow has been lessened, and then I find that what's really happened is that I'm falling into a funk of mild depression, which deadens feeling and paralyzes action. I find myself procrastinating and letting things go. I have to force myself to get on with life and the things on my list of chores.

In those days, I have the smallest inkling of what depression must have been like for Leif, why he put things off and let things go, but my experience is a mere shadow of his.

In that state, I have the feeling that something is building up like a river behind a dam that's going to fail, and I'll have a flood of tears when it does. It's necessary, apparently, but it doesn't resolve anything in the end. It's just a temporary release.

The oddest things will make me think of him and the tears will slide down, just a few silent ones. Tonight we went to a play about Merrick, the broadway producer of many hits. The show was written by a man who lives not far from us. One of the songs from "Oliver" was sung by a handsome blond boy, and it wasn't intended to be about a man looking for love, rather about a boy looking for someone to love him like a mother, but the words could just as well have been written for a lonely man seeking love. "Where is love?" expressed Leif's longing and made me very sad.

I don't know about men and whether they share anything about their feelings at the loss of a son or daughter with each other, but now I do know about this silent sisterhood, those mothers like me who have lost someone inexpressibly precious, someone to whom they gave life and in which they invested love and hope.

We are all around you, and I hope you never join us in this silent sisterhood.