In The Mailbox: 09.12.25 (Evening Edition)
3 hours ago
Trata a los demas como quisieras que te traten a ti.
NAME THE TRACKS ON THIS ALBUM AND I WILL MAKE THE LINER NOTES WITH THE BEST ONES.
Master Sgt. Danial R. Adams, assigned to 1st Battalion, 10th SFG (A) in Stuttgart, Germany, was killed in an intense firefight with insurgents.
Adams, 35, a native of Oregon, joined the Army in 1995 as an infantryman, where he served with distinction as a team and squad leader while stationed at Fort Richardson, Alaska. After a short assignment at Fort Lewis, Wash., as a squad leader with 2nd Bn., 75th Ranger Regiment, Adams earned the Green Beret in 2005. His first Special Forces assignment was as a senior medical sergeant with the 3rd SFG (A) at Fort Bragg, N.C. In 2009, he joined 1st Bn., 10th SFG (A), located in Stuttgart, Germany, where he served on a Special Forces team.
Adam's military education includes Airborne School, Jungle Warfare School, Ranger School, Jumpmaster School, Air Assault School, and the Special Forces Qualification Course.
His awards and decorations include the Bronze Star Medal with 2 oak leaf clusters, the Army Commendation Medal with 2 oak leaf clusters, the Army Achievement Medal with 3 oak leaf clusters, the Army Good Conduct Medal with bronze clasp (4 Loops), the National Defense Service Medal with 1 service star, the Afghanistan Campaign Medal (with Campaign Star), the Iraq Campaign Medal (with Campaign Star), the Global War on Terror Service Medal, the Noncommissioned Officer Professional Development Ribbon with the Numeral 2, the Army Service Ribbon, the Overseas Service Ribbon, the NATO Medal, Special Forces Tab, Ranger Tab, the Parachutist Badge, the Air Assault Badge, Combat Infantryman's Badge, and Expert Infantryman's Badge.
Adams, is survived by his wife Melany, his sons Jeffrey and John, and his daughter Skye.
Kenneth L. Sickels, 20, of Apple Valley, Calif.; assigned to 1st Battalion, 7th Marine Regiment, 1st Marine Division, Marine Corps Air Ground Combat Center Twentynine Palms, Calif.; died Sept. 27 due to a non-combat-related incident in Anbar province, Iraq.Read more about Marine Pvt. 1st Class Kenneth L. Sickels at the Iraq Page.
Not long before he left for Iraq, Kenneth L. Sickels tackled his "To Do" list. He rode a mechanical bull. He made a trip to a theme park, Magic Mountain. And he took a swim with his cousins and nieces. "There was only one thing he didn't do," his mother, Joyce Lacy, said. "He wanted to go skydiving."
Sickels, 20, of Apple Valley, Calif., died Sept. 27 in a non-combat accident in Iraq’s Anbar province. He was based at Twentynine Palms, Calif., and had been in Iraq only 34 days. Sickels loved video games and music, and was fond of singing along with his favorite songs, including Tim McGraw's "Live Like You Were Dying." The character in the song, who is facing a serious illness, goes bull riding and sky diving. "He wanted to live life to the fullest," his mother said. Sickels talked of making a career in the Marine Corps, and enlisted in April 2003. After he arrived in Iraq, his family recalled sending him a CARE package of tortillas, beans and cheese to make burritos, which he said he could heat up on the engine of his Humvee. He also is survived by his father, Glenn.
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Marine Quilts |
October 15, 2006
When Cesar Granados played football at Le Grand High School in Merced County, everyone called the defensive tackle "Big C," because he stood 6 feet 5 and packed a muscled 270 pounds from long hours in the weight room.
People in the farming community of about 1,700 knew Granados as an affable, polite and gentle giant who spent part of his boyhood in Mexicali, Mexico, loved rap music in Spanish and English and lived in a modest apartment with his mother and two younger sisters, who looked up to him as a role model and father figure.
When he landed a job in a pizza parlor during high school, he was proud and happy that he could afford to buy shoes and other gifts for his sisters. But he hoped someday to join the California Highway Patrol or the U.S. Border Patrol so he could help other people and contribute even more to his family's support.
When Army recruiters came to campus and told him that he could play some football in the military and that the training could help prepare him for a career in law enforcement, he turned to his football coach for advice.
"He asked if [joining] was a good idea," said coach Rick Martinez. "I said, 'It's wartime ... but if you really want to go, I support you.' "
Although he had the grades to go to college, the clincher for Granados was that he could earn money in the Army to help his family, according to relatives. His mother was a field worker, raising two daughters.
"He knew what he was risking and felt the sacrifice was worth it," said an aunt, Martina Granados of Fresno. "He wanted to do something good and provide for his family. He wanted to serve the country ... and he wanted the girls not to suffer or feel the need to drop out of high school. And [he wanted them to] have a computer."
Granados enlisted in 2004 before graduating and was assigned to an infantry division at Ft. Hood, Texas.
He made good on his vow to help his family, and he bought his first vehicle -- a used, blue pickup that he showed off while on leave in Le Grand.
But he also broke the news that he was bound for Iraq.
"I thought, 'Oh no,' " Martinez said. "I told him, 'It's like football ... but if people get blindsided, they get killed. You have to be careful.' "
In Iraq, the young soldier combated loneliness through e-mail exchanges with his family, friends and former coach.
He craved letters, rather than material things. So the coach's wife had her second grade class write him.
"I told him to turn to God and pray, and don't feel that you're alone," Martinez said.
Granados almost jokingly told relatives that if the worst happened to him, military officers would come calling -- and they did. After less than a year in the war zone, Cpl. Cesar Granados was killed Sept. 16 when a roadside bomb exploded near the Humvee he was driving in Baghdad. He had just turned 21.
A fellow soldier would later tell his mother that, when the blast hit him, Granados was talking about visiting his family later this month.
Granados was assigned to the 2nd Battalion, 8th Infantry Regiment, 3rd Brigade, 4th Infantry Division at Ft. Hood.
Although he was born in the Central Valley city of Merced, his body was sent to Mexicali, where his father lives and he has extended family. "He said he wanted to be buried in Mexico, with no honors, as a true Mexican," said his 15-year-old sister, Denisse.
After an all-night visitation at his father's house early this month, Granados' American flag-draped casket was loaded into the bed of his own pickup.
With mourners and a band bringing up the rear, his parents drove his body to a nearby church for a funeral Mass, then to the gravesite. Several representatives of the U.S. military attended, along with numerous relatives, some wearing T-shirts imprinted with Granados' first official Army photo.
"We are all going to miss him," his mother, Maria, said in Spanish, translated by her daughter. "And he is going to be our guardian angel.... We didn't know he was in danger. He always said he was all right."
Granados was the first former Le Grand High School student to die in Iraq, Martinez said, and people at the school were devastated. During a recent football game, Granados was honored with a color guard salute, and taps was played in a final farewell to "Big C."
LOGAR PROVINCE, Afghanistan – A Task Force Patriot Soldier from 4th Brigade Combat Team, 10th Mountain Division based at Fort Polk, La., died as the result of an enemy attack in Logar Province Feb. 28.Read more about Army Specialist Rudolph R. Hizon's life and family in the LA Times and visit Specialist Rudolph Hizon's Guest Book.
U.S. Army Spc. Rudolph R. Hizon was a 22-year-old Los Angeles native assigned to Company B, 2nd Battalion, 30th Infantry Regiment’s Task Force Storm when he died during a complex improvised explosive device, small-arms and rocket-propelled grenade attack in the Charkh area of the province.
U.S. Army Spc. Kevin Jones of Aurora, Ill., assigned to Co. B’s TF Storm, said he will always remember Hizon’s smile.
“I will always have you in my thoughts for the rest of my days,” said Jones of Hizon. “I love you man!”
Hizon was a good friend to everyone he knew, said U.S. Army Spc. Joshua Gonzales of Olath, Kan.
“I will always think of him as the happy and cheerful person he was… and I’m going to miss him dearly,” said Gonzales.
U.S. Army Pfc. Clayton Contrall of Piedmont, Ala., also with Co. B, said Hizon always had a “huge smile” on his face – the kind of smile that made everyone around him smile, too.
“You’re a warrior and will always be in my heart,” said Contrall.
Hizon’s awards and decorations include the Bronze Star Medal, Purple Heart, Army Good Conduct Medal, National Defense Service Medal, Afghan Campaign Medal with star device, Global War on Terror Service Medal, Army Service Ribbon, Overseas Service Ribbon, NATO Medal and Combat Infantryman Badge.
It was the simple things that meant so much to Army Staff Sgt. Guy Stanley Hagy Jr. when he returned last month from Iraq on a two-week leave.The former California resident spent time playing video games with his wife and 15-year-old stepson, bowled a near-perfect 279 game and ordered the biggest steak on the menu at Texas Road House in Killeen, Texas, near his home base of Ft. Hood.Besides his wife, Elysia, 33, and her son, Robert Fulton, Hagy is survived by his daughter, Elizabeth, 13; his father, Guy Sr.; his stepmother, Victoria Hagy; and siblings Andrew, Chris, Jeffrey, Joe and Luciann.
Hagy, known by family members and friends as Stan, was described as an unfailingly kind and cheerful careerist with the Army who always looked out for others.
"Stan was the kind of man who couldn't see anyone in need of help and not assist them," Grady said. "Because of his helpful nature, people were drawn to him wherever he went."
When another soldier traveled, Hagy and his wife would volunteer to assist his family until his return. They often invited single people on base over for a home-cooked meal.
Hagy was born and raised in Thompson Valley, a small farm and ranch community in southwest Virginia, where he was one of six children. As a teenager, Hagy helped his father on his job working with horses at a local ranch.
"He was an avid outdoorsman. He loved hunting and fishing, particularly with his father," said Goldie Kiser, another aunt through marriage. "The family is devastated. This is their oldest child."
Hornbarger joined the Air Force in 1996, a year after he graduated from Elko High. He was assigned to the 9th Aircraft Maintenance Squadron at Beale Air Force Base near Marysville, north of Sacramento.Read more about Air Force Technical Specialist James R. Hornbarger here, here and here.
Tech. Sgt. James R. Hornbarger, 33, of Marysville died Sept. 12 as the result of illness related to a heart attack while he was stationed on the Mediterranean island nation of Cyprus, where he was serving in support of Operation Enduring Freedom.
Shaun Dominguez remembered Hornbarger as a boy, pulling tricks on his skateboard in the concrete basins of an empty trailer park outside Dominguez's home.
"He wasn't scared of anything," Dominguez, 28, recalled of the few years when his father and Hornbarger's mother dated. "I always looked up to him.... Fearless would be a good word."
In the Air Force, Hornbarger was serving as an avionics technician both at home and abroad, from Britain to South Korea.
His stepmother, Helen Hornbarger of Elko, said J.R. was a good father and a good husband. He loved the outdoors, enjoying snowboarding, camping, hiking and fishing.In addition to his wife and stepmother, Hornbarger's survivors include a daughter, Asia; his father, Jack Hornbarger; his mother, Linda Raab; his stepfather, Richard Raab; a brother, Tony Bleak; and two sisters, Julie Brown and Michelle Strozzi.
Read more about Army Specialist Harley D. Andrews in theLA Times.
With a little more than a month left on his tour of duty, Andrews, 22, was killed Sept. 11 in Ramadi, the volatile capital of Al Anbar province, 75 miles west of Baghdad, when a roadside bomb detonated under his vehicle during combat operations.
His mother, Kimberly Barlow of Portland, Ore., said she was told by the Army that her son was killed when the bomb exploded through the floor of the vehicle he was driving.
"I know that he went out and he looked for bombs, but he made it sound like it wasn't a big deal," said Barlow, a night manager at a Safeway supermarket. "The more I'm learning, he had a very dangerous job. There's a lot of things he joked off to protect me -- he told his brother a lot more than he told me."
Barlow remembered her son as stubborn, determined and headstrong. "He was very outgoing, he was very outdoorsy, but he always had to push to the next limit. He was a good kid."
Barlow said she did not object when he decided to join the Army. "I'm very proud of my son," she said. "Do I think it was the right thing for him at the time? Yes. You just never think anything will happen to your kid. Did he want to be there? No, but who does? Was he disillusioned? No. But he couldn't wait to get out -- none of them can."
In addition to his wife, son, mother and stepfather, Andrews is survived by his father, Ken C. Phillips of Boise, Idaho; and his brother, Michael, 24, of Portland, Ore.
Once, Aaron Horwitz had what most people would consider a supremely lousy day. A friend asked him how he would rate it, from 1 to 10, with 1 the worst.
"Eight," he replied.
You could get a contact high from Mr. Horwitz, 24, a bond broker at Cantor Fitzgerald with the almost laughable responsibility of entertaining clients and making them feel like the most important people in the world.
As if anyone had to pay him. For he was not just a showman, who did the Michael Jackson moonwalk on bar tops and who, at a museum, drew his own masterpiece on a mist-coated window next to a Rembrandt.
He seized souls, not letting go until he made them merry. He met a guy in a toy store and, moments later, the two were having a hula hoop contest. He insisted a concierge stop weeping over a bad breakup, then called her at 2:30 a.m. to make sure. He sweet-talked hostesses at four-star restaurants into producing tables for eight (and their phone numbers for dates) and persuaded a street masseur to let Mr. Horwitz give him a massage.
"You could talk to a brick wall," his father told him. Yes, allowed the son, but he preferred chatting with a mirror. He often did so, then fell over, laughing.
Mario Santoro: Good Food, Good Company
Mario Santoro was a dedicated emergency medical technician who loved his job. Yes, he doted on his daughter, Sofia, who is now 3. And yes, he was a passionate volunteer basketball coach at his local church who sometimes showed up to practice after catching only an hour or two of sleep, after a late shift on the job.
Butthose who knew him best also realized that Mr. Santoro, 28, loved, more than almost anything else, to have a great meal with close friends and family.
Steak. Seafood. Appetizers. Good wine, good beer. It almost didn't matter what was on the table, as long as the food was good and the company divine, said his widow, Léonor Ramos-Santoro.
"It was kind of like breathing for him; it was almost religious for him, like taking care of your soul," she said about her husband, who immigrated from Argentina as a young boy. "Meals were sacred. You sit down and you enjoy. You're not caught up in what's going on outside."
Sometimes the Santoros made their way to the Bridge Cafe, a restaurant not far from their apartment in Lower Manhattan. At home, Mr. Santoro relished his wife's arroz con gandules, or rice with pigeon peas, with an extra zing of garlic.
"For the rest of my life, I will want Mario to come home for a meal," she said. "If he has to go back, then fine, go back. But just one more meal, that's all."
Marine Cpl. Carlos E. Gil Orozco was killed in Iraq before ever getting to see his infant son, Kenny Carlo.Visit the Guest Book for Marine Corporal Carlos E. Gil Orozco here and read more about him here. The above article is from the LA Times.
But over the 3 1/2 months from Kenny's birth until Gil Orozco's death Sept. 9 on a combat operation in Anbar province, the soldier would send his son a card or letter about once a week.
Gil Orozco also would write to his wife in San Jose. He married Esmeralda Gil on May 27, 2006, exactly a year before Kenny was born.
The letters reflected Gil Orozco's outgoing, fun-loving nature and his devotion to family, along with the occasional rockiness of a young marriage.
His wife would read the letters addressed to their son. The last one arrived a few days after Gil Orozco was killed when the Humvee in which he was riding ran over a roadside bomb west of Baghdad. He was 23.It read, in part, "I miss you my chiquito [little one] and I've been thinking about you like hell. . . . I just hate to write but this way I'm showing you my love and how much you mean to me.
"I can't wait until me and you go get a haircut together and go in the green grass and play ball with me and your brother Carlos," he added, referring to his other son, Carlos Alexander, a 5-year-old from a previous relationship. "Well I hope you're not being a baby and cry all the time ha ha. I love you Kenny, I do with all my heart."
Gil Orozco called Kenny by the nickname he lovingly gave to his son, Cabezon, or big head, after seeing pictures of him.
In his last letter to his wife, Gil Orozco wrote that he wanted to "thank U 4 having a beautiful son and [being] a great mother to him ur a great woman and sometimes I don't realize that."He chided himself for being foolish at times and promised to "fix myself cause my son needs me and so do u. . . . I know sometimes we fight and get into it but our love it's stronger than ever."
Gil Orozco arrived in San Jose when he was 8, after he and his family left their native Colombia. In addition to his wife and children, he is survived by his parents, Carlos Gabriel Gil and Myriam Orozco; and a sister, Myriam Johanna Gil Orozco,15.His family nickname was Pochito, which, in his family's Colombian slang, means chubby. Gil Orozco became an avid weightlifter, however, and grew into a powerfully built young man about 6 feet 1 and 250 pounds. He enjoyed riding his motorcycle, playing soccer and listening to the music of rapper Tupac Shakur, according to his family and friends.
U.S. Navy hospital corpsman James Layton headed out before dawn with U.S. and Afghan forces on an assignment to a remote village in eastern Afghanistan.Read more about Navy Petty Officer James R. Layton here and here, with quotes from family and friends here.
Their mission was to meet the village elders of Ganjgal in Kunar province and work to establish the Afghan government's authority in the mountains near the Pakistani border, a largely Taliban-controlled tribal region through which fighters and weapons are smuggled.
The troops walked into the valley leading to the village, which is bounded on three sides by mountains. As daylight broke, they heard shots.
It was a trap.
From the slopes of the mountains, gunfire and grenades rained on about 80 Afghan soldiers and a dozen U.S. troops. They took cover and radioed for help, but helicopter support would not arrive for 80 minutes.
At one point, a Marine, 1st Lt. Michael Johnson, was struck by gunfire. Layton, 22, rushed from his sheltered position with his first aid kit to help the wounded man.
"James had left his cover to go help Mike," said his father, Brent Layton. "He was killed trying to save Mike." Johnson also died in the attack.
The corpsman's aunt, Kym Layton, said she had always "thought James to be the kind of kid to do the right thing."
She added: "We never know how far we would go for someone else, and he went all the way."
Layton's body was found slumped over Johnson's. Bandage wrappings were scattered around their bodies, according to Jonathan Landay, a McClatchy Newspapers reporter who was embedded with the attacked unit.
Marisol Heredia had a reputation as a strong-willed, perceptive young woman who, in the words of her older sister Claudia Billiot, "if she wanted to do something, was going to do it, no matter who said no."Read the entire LA Times article about Army Specialist Marisol Heredia here and read the San Gabriel Valley Tribune article here.
It was that single-mindedness -- to serve, to experience other parts of the world -- that led Heredia to follow her sister into the Army after high school. Heredia was assigned to the 15th Brigade Support Battalion, 2nd Brigade Combat Team, 1st Cavalry Division at Ft. Hood, Texas.
In war-torn Baghdad, Heredia, who held the rank of Specialist 4, was badly burned in an accident July 18. According to family members, the accident occurred while she was fueling a generator. The incident is under investigation.
Heredia, whose bodily defenses were seriously compromised because of the extent of her burns, was transferred to Brooke Army Medical Center in San Antonio. There, with typical determination, she fought her way through a potentially fatal bout of pneumonia.
Billiot, who recently had been discharged from the Army, was at her sister's bedside day and night, "making her laugh, making her smile, reading to her" from cards and letters sent by well-wishing strangers.
Early this month, however, an infection took hold. It dragged Heredia rapidly downhill and, to the devastation of her family and friends, took her life Sept. 7. She was 19.
"Nobody expected it," Billiot said. "Nobody was ready for it. She'd shown so much strength fighting the pneumonia."
...
In addition to Billiot and her husband, Shane, of Baton Rouge, La., and Carolina Heredia of El Monte, Heredia is survived by her mother, Rosa Heredia, stepfather, Jose Dominguez, and sister Azucena Dominguez, all of El Monte. She was the fiancee of Travis Beaumont, a soldier she served with in Iraq.
A world away from his little sister, Mick R. Bekowsky sounded tired and homesick in calls home from Iraq, but he always asked Haley, 12, how her softball team was doing. "They were eight years apart and had two different lives," Brian Bekowsky said of his children. "They both thought they'd have plenty of time to be brother and sister."
The 21-year-old assaultman from Concord, Calif., was killed Sept. 6 by a car bomb in Iraq's Anbar province. He was stationed at Camp Pendleton.
The Marine liked to race cars, hunt and fish. His father said he wanted to be "the life of the party."
"He was a macho 21-year-old boy who thought he was immortal," said his mother, Joan Bekowsky.
Bekowsky enlisted a month after the Sept. 11 terror attacks, shortly after graduating from high school. He was killed weeks before he was due to return home.
"He was the boy next door, the boy you went to high school with, the guy who works at McDonald's," the Marine's father said.
"We picture them as soldiers carrying M-16s, but they're boys."
— Associated Press
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Mick R. Bekowsky |
In late July [2008], while he was in Afghanistan, his sister sent him an e-mail: "Hey buddy. Please be safe and make it home. I dunno if ur still into the church thing -- but pray too."
Less than two months later, Spc. Marques I. Knight, 24, was fatally shot Sept. 6 in Aliabad in northern Afghanistan's Kunduz province.
An uncle, Shelp Knight, said the Army told him that his nephew and fellow soldiers were ambushed while on foot patrol near the Pakistani border.
A day after the ambush, Shelp Knight, who lives in Dothan, Ala., got a call from his brother Charles with the news. "I hung up," he said. "I didn't want to hear it."
To his sister, Knight was a beautiful and funny man, who would be your best friend, once he warmed to you. As Shelp Knight put it: "He's a kid everybody needs to know."
Marques Knight was assigned to the 1st Battalion, 26th Infantry Regiment, 3rd Brigade Combat Team, 1st Infantry Division at Ft. Hood, Texas. It was his second tour of duty.
He had long been interested in the military. He participated in the ROTC at Dr. Phillips High School in Orlando, Fla. Family members also recalled that, as a boy, Knight dreamed about drawing and animation -- a hobby he loved but relegated to his free time.
Knight cared as much for his body as for his drawings. He ordered nutritional supplements and weight gainers to supplement his weightlifting, he told his sister in an e-mail. He would ask Conroy to ship him foods high in protein -- tuna, sardines and salmon. He wanted to bulk up his lean, 6-foot-5 frame. Knight would easily run nine to 12 miles a day and lift weights twice a day, she said.
In e-mails posted to a memorial website for soldiers, friends and military colleagues remembered Magnani for his humor, constant smiles, love of history and thirst for knowledge.
In addition to Afghanistan, his service took him to Spain, Italy, Greenland, Germany, South Korea and Iraq.
"He was the kind of person who knew how to light up a room with his personality. . . . You just couldn't be in a bad mood in his presence," wrote Rob and Autumn Lombardi, who were stationed with him in Italy.
When Magnani deployed to Iraq in 2005, his brother Christopher admitted being "scared to death." But Magnani worked within Baghdad's Green Zone, setting up hospital facilities, and was relatively safe.
Magnani had planned to retire from the military in two years, after hitting his 20-year service mark.
"He joked that he wanted to marry an Italian girl and move to Italy," his sister said.
Magnani was posthumously awarded the Meritorious Service Medal and won several other awards, his mother said.
"I feel like I've lost my heart," she said.