Monday, March 10, 2008

Photo Story Monday - One Year Later

After being in Baghdad for a few months, it started to feel easy. Routine. We'd clear hundreds upon hundreds of houses and walk a few miles collectively and go in for the night to sleep. And do it all over again the next day. Glancing up at the fortress of Sadr City was a normal day at the office. Strolling through Arab Jabour could only be described as boring. Apart from a few firefights and the downing of a Blackwater helicopter, Baghdad was a bust.

We had suffered two deaths in ten months, both in other companies. I didn't know them except for their names. In that regard we were luckier than most other units. I thought to myself often, this isn't bad. We're going to make it out of here okay.

It was still routine in March 2007, but we were in Baqubah instead of Baghdad. On March 14 we started searching through abandoned houses and dirt lots. Two Army combat journalists were with us to cover the story of Strykers in Diyala for the first time since the war began. We searched through one house and were preparing to move to another next door. It had a padlock on the other side. I shed my backpack and climbed over to cut the lock. I was just about there when my squad leader called to me, "Fuck it, fuck the lock. We gotta mount back up." I jumped back over the gate and sprinted back into the Stryker to join our three other vehicles.





The only picture taken that day


What followed in the next several minutes shattered the belief that we'd be okay, when Cooter, his faced covered in dust and grime, said to me "Chevy was killed on impact."

Brian Chevalier was one of the newer guys. He came to the platoon right before we did our training in California in February of 2006. He was quieter than most, a Georgian father of a little girl he was raising with his mother. His late introduction to the platoon made him the driver, the less coveted position in a squad. Almost immediately he earned the nickname of Chevy, a shorter version of his last name.

It was hard to tell how clever he really was. Introverted and sporting a southern drawl, he was brighter than most perceived. I fancied myself as one of the best debaters in the platoon, as debates and arguments were frequent in tight living quarters. But he could always poke holes in my positions when I faced off against him.

He was a lover of poker. He rarely won but always was willing to play. In the barracks and in Mosul, games of Texas Hold 'Em were almost as common as debates. Once, Chevy and I were facing off in a massive pot. I held a King of Diamonds with five diamonds out there. The board read 3-4-Ace-10-7. I had the best flush with my king. Chevy had an impossibly wide grin on his face the whole time. When the seven came out, he shouted, "Ohhh, shit!" Once he collected himself, he pushed all his chips in. He couldn't stop smiling and his face grew red hot. He put his hand to his mouth and bit his thumbnail, showing overwhelming nervousness. Seeing his not so subtle poker face, I folded the King-high flush. He rolled over 5-6 of diamonds, revealing the straight flush. I couldn't believe it.

The only solace I found was that Chevy was killed instantly when the IED exploded beneath him. He went like he lived: quietly. His impact on us was not as muted. Every single person that knew him cried at his memorial service. Our emotions were bottled up after he was killed; we had no time to grieve in between missions. For two hours, we reflected on his loss. And we went back out into the night.

This Friday, the remaining members of second platoon will get together on the anniversary of his death to celebrate his life.





The memorial commissioned for those lost in both deployments of 3rd Stryker Brigade, 2003-2004 and 2006-2007




We miss you, Chevy.

AH

11 comments:

Anonymous said...

Alex~ What a great memorial post for Chevy. I miss him a lot and cant wait to see you all again this weekend.

Unknown said...

A wonderfully moving tribute, Alex. It's hard to believe it's already been a whole year since that terrible day.

Love,

Dad

David M said...

The Thunder Run has linked to this post in the blog post From the Front: 03/11/2008 News and Personal dispatches from the front lines.

The Minstrel Boy said...

add a hoo-rah from an old grunt in the other war. . .

ba'aheh gosish itisgoh bisii lah dahi

(give him thanks and honor he is soldier)

in western apache.

Anonymous said...

Thanks for telling us about Chevy, Alex.

Anonymous said...

Thanks so much for telling his story Alex. We will never EVER forget. Here's to your boy Chevy. Ginnis, out.

payday said...

nice tribute alex, ill see ya this weekend when we celebrate chev's life

Jim Smith II said...

Alex - I've grinned and laughed and imagined what it must have been like (I was out long before the shooting started), but today for the first time reading your excellent posts, I cried.

Anonymous said...

Hey there - stumbled on your blog and its been incredible to read. im in the uk and have some friends in afghan and iraq and what happens out there its never something we hear about from a personal perspective. Look after yourselves and one another when youre out there and remember people back home are totally behind you.

Unknown said...

Today, March 14th, should be recalled by all here who read of Chevy's brief life and sudden death. He was just a kid who was trying to make his way in life, learning to be a man and a father to his daughter. Many have lived longer and done worse.

My son Alex came home and has resumed his life. May he work extra hard to make it a good and productive one, out of respect for those many fighting men and women of America who didn't get the same chance.

Chevy is gone but to his friends, family and acquaintances, he will not be forgetten. I never met him but his memory will live on in my heart because it will forever live on in my son's heart.

Alex's Dad

Anonymous said...

I am practically in tears...Although it may not mean much this is my personal thank you to chevy and all of our brave protectors.

Thanks you all.