I was a CACO once. This guy did it 30 times.
For those who don’t know, no explanation is possible. For those who do, none is necessary.
Semper Fi, Colonel.
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A Tough Job35 comments to A Tough Job |
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Ahhh, Lord. Just, Lord.
Amen bro, Amen.
It was bad enough losing friends. I can’t even listen to taps anymore without my eyes getting misty.
Having to be CACO? I don’t know where we find men with such inner strength.
God Bless them all.
Tough job indeed. Although I have never been in the military, I have done many death notifications. That’s one of those parts of being a cop nobody thinks about. It’s never good, and doing it full time as a CACO would most certainly takes its personal toll.
My former parish priest was a Russian Orthodox AF Chaplain, retired after 30, bird Col. a few tours in Viet Nam with Silver Star, Bronze with 3 reps and two Vs. He hated having to do that.
“I didn’t think the nation was grateful so I didn’t say that.”
Oh yeah……
Yup… I agree. You had to have lived through those times, but today is not that much different.
“All Marines share in your grief.” Indeed, today is not much different than any other day in that regard. While the 70’s were an interesting time in America and the nation may not have been grateful, the Marines remained unchanged.
And may God bless them for that.
– Max
I doubt it’ll be any time soon that I’ll forget that powerful narrative. Thanks for sharing, Lex.
Nothing like a night time flushing of tear ducts!
Helo crash. WESTPAC. No survivors. Deep water and no remains recovered. Mine was a SAR swimmer who had fished a pilot out of the drink a few days before. May they all rest in peace.
They know as soon as the see the car and the uniform.
Once is more than enough, especially for initial notification.
After that, there is some job satisfaction from helping guide the family through the maze of red tape for benefits, but coping with the grief there is little an outsider can do to help, but you feel, and cannot eliminate their pain, only share it with them.
Suckiest job in the military. God bless those who do it as a primary duty.
My former roommate, Maj. Unger, had to do that a time or two when he was a ROTC instructor at East Tennessee State U, there being no one else available. His house phone was on a party line, and invariably when they called him up to do that, some silly woman refused to relinquish the party line, without some yelling and screaming on his part. He was still hoppin’ mad about that when he told me, years later.
I have read, that when Marines first got sent to Viet-Nam, that some Marine wives got the idea of making a Book of Remembrance, with a page or two for each Marine killed over there. They soon had to give that up, what with the very large number of dead Marines. I reckon they thought that Marines would be used properly, in short, sharp fights, instead of, well, used up.
Quiet time now, pondering those who have gone on ahead.
Semper Fi, indeed.
I suppose there might be a certain pride one could get from the job, a satisfaction for having helped a family through a difficult time and eased their burden, much like a funeral director would have for his occupation. I just can’t see it making up for the job requirements is all.
But they show up in staff cars in dress uniforms, solemn and formal. People immediately know. Yet there is no informal or gentle way to give such news, and the formality gives an aura of tradition and respect to the process that may later help the family realize all his peers share in their loss.
But that comes later.
It quite literally forces the CACO into a role he cannot leave, the bearer of bad tidings and bad tidings only, his mere presence a substitute for the angel of death.
It is interesting to note that bravery under fire is rewarded with medals and ribbons and such, but the task that kills a man inside slowly but surely over the course of the months has no such honors.
Semper Fi, Marine — take solace that afterwords the family understands why the news was delivered by one of his own, and that he was not alone when he died but among his new family, and that you shared in their loss as if he were your own blood.
– Max
CACO once, escort officer once. Called my retired father who told me that this would be the hardest part of any service related job, and that I had to be stronger than I could imagine. The family couldn’t bear to see the military rep break down, nope, one had to represent the stoic warrior grimly bearing the burden of loss. The crying would come later. Sometimes years later like this morning reading the post over a cup of coffee.
Thanks Lex, good to remember, better to never forget.
29 times, one awful night. And it never leaves you.
When I went through the Police Academy,and were being trained to handle death notification calls, we were told to get the person’s clergyman, as they would know the deceased, and the bereaved, much better than I would be likely to, so the notification would not be coming from an anonymous police officer. Clergy also recieve training in these matters, which combined with their aformentioned greater knowlege of the people involved, can make the whole unhappy affair much easier of the bereaved. My Uncle Carmen Peterson is a Lutheran pastor, and my first thought was, pass the responsibilty to Uncle Carmen, I can do that!
I found that there was much, much more it than that, and that people like Uncle Carmen, and CACOs like the Colonel, have made a horrific event just a little bit easier to bear. I am 48, so he has been doing this for a half century, now. While he is in his 70’s, clergy never really get to retire, so he is still doing his pastoral duties.
Uncle Carmen now lives up by the Twin Cities, at the other end of Wisconsin. I think I will call him today, and let him know how much I love him, and appreceate what he does. Thank you Lex, for this post, it gave me quite a bit to think about.
I was a CACO for 4 of my sailors. 3 motorcycle wrecks, one with two onboard. Next of kin for 3 were Mom and Dad, the other one had been married about 6 months.
His young wife (about 19 or so)was a mess, but she was living with her parents and they kept her together. It was a dignified military burial, until at the first note of Taps, the widow leaped to her feet and went screaming through the cemetary. I caught up to her first, immediately followed by her father, thank goodness. His firm embrace was what she needed just then.
Having never had the honor of serving I can never know the feelings serving thus entails. But it is just another in a very long list of things that makes me grateful to be an American and to always try to properly honor those who do and have served with my constant appreciation.
I’ve said it before but it bears repeating often, especially at this season of reflection, thank you to our host and all of you who have served and serve now and ensure the freedom so often taken for granted by those of us who haven’t.
This account goes right along the account from Lt.Col. Strobl’s on “Taking Chance”. Both very moving.
My father was also a CACO for the Army during Vietnam. The one he never got out of his mind was when the mother answered the door and asked, without a moment’s pause or trace of emotion “When do we get the check?” That one still bothers him from time to time.
About this time of year, one of my roomates from ‘A’ school was killed in a car accident right after getting to his squadron. Since my squadron shared a hangar with them and it was known that we were friends, his CO asked me to go to the airport with him to meet my friend’s parents. I had already gone to the Coroner’s Office to identify his body. Not a good week. I couldn’t think of doing that thirty times.
I was an escort officer once… Jan-69 , 0-3 chopper pilot, killed in a crash in RVN…closed casket, left a wife and two children…at the wake distraut wife, parents and relatives, you could cut the grief with a knife … some rather pointed questions by some who mistook my RVN jump wings for pilots wings and thought I was from his unit. Learned the deceased had lost a brother six years earlier…he was swept off the deck of an aircraft carrier…hard to imagine such loss.
… At the funeral, grey overcast day, all very dignified many sobbing… the taps extremely emotional…came time to present the folded flag to the widow and say the approved words…couldn’t say them, feared I might lose it, so I just touched her hand and she nodded…received a moving thank you note some time later…I still have it. Best
PS, TimC, I agree the “Taking Chance” account is both very moving and accurate.
8 times. 30 years ago.
I remember each and every one.
When I was in OCS my class had to conduct a parody of a Military Funeral (for a dead roach, coffin and all). I had been to the real thing, and I thought the entire COC were scum for making us put on that parody.
Agree with that sentiment QM. I had the honor being a member of a Military Funeral detail while at Lowry AFB, though it was only for a few months. It was always a privilege and a meaningful sign of respect, never “routine” for us.
I cannot imagine being the one to tell someone that their loved one was killed (military or civilian).
Whenever I am in D.C., which is not very often, Arlington is one of the sites I always go to. Brings on bittersweet memories, but they are good memories in that Never Forget is more than a slogan.
More than 20 Years later I’m still angry about it. We had a military death, an uncle was with the 1st Marines at Chosen Reservoir where he was mortally wounded. It took 3 years to get the remains back. We were supposed to invite families to that and some other activities near the end of the course. My mother refused to come and I told the TAC why. He seemed somewhat abashed, but I know that travesty was not his idea.
You would think the Military would have more respect than to parody a ceremony of honor. Would they parody a CMH award ceremony, or any other similar ceremony? Some of it I chalk up to the thing in an ARNG OCS. Still, it wrankled, and still does.
Tough indeed. It can even be tough to be mistaken for one. My spouse’s father was career Air Force from Guadalcanal to Vietnam. Once while he was deployed to Vietnam one of his friends decided to stop by the house one afternoon to drop off something from church…in his blues.
When Estelle saw him, she thought the worst, and when she found out he was just “dropping in”, she broke his nose.
Oops..that’s my spouse’s grandfather, not father.
If CINCHOUSE found out I implied she was that old she’d break my nose….
For a small donation to Lex’s tip jar, we’d be glad to keep it to ourselves.
I saw hints of this kind of thing, watching my father in his role as a pastor (my parents never sheltered us from the reality of death–I have memories of funerals as a 5-year-old and I recognized his heaviness when he’d return from the hospital or from visiting a grieving family).
The little I can imagine of life as a CACO is just devastating. It makes me all the more humbled and grateful for our service members, recognizing the burdens they bear even in “peacetime.”
I doubt you all feel it, but you seem to me to be extraordinarily strong and special people (strength of course is not found in being unbending, but in having the strength to bend and bow… and bounce back). Sometimes words aren’t enough–I wish I could hug each one of you.
Fbl, I didn’t see myself on that one occasion as ” extraordinarily strong” or special in any way…I complied willingly as ordered. Rendering this final honor to a fallen brother, unknown to me, was a profoundly emotional and humbling experience…
…that said, I did find some comfort in the thought that if the rolls were reversed he would have done the same for me. Best
PS, Now about that hug???
Tough job, indeed. One of the things that impressed me (“impressed” isn’t quite the word I’m looking for) is both the sergeant major and the colonel realized when their limits had been reached and requested retirement/reassignment. The fact the Corps moved quickly to honor the requests in both cases is none the less impressive and perhaps more so. Semper Fi.
While a TAR in OKC, early 90s, did lots of funerals all over the state and northern texas. Least we could do for our veterans, some old, some young. The CACOs and the ID of a shipmate were some of the most difficult duties ever. The funerals, especially for the older vets were actually very rewarding. Most cases the families always made sure we’d go over to the house if we had time and the other vets would regale us with stories. The thanks flowed both ways.
Got to serve as OIC of our base honor guard in the late 80’s in Washington state. Like claudio, we rendered final honors for many retirees. Had some tough ones after a KC135 crashed on base in 1987. Toughest was in 1989. Laid to rest the remains of a 25 year old F-4 pilot who went down in Vietnam in 1972. Nearly lost it during the missing man flyover. Hardest of all was meeting his daughter whom he never got to see. Escort officer was his retired uncle. I found his name a few years later on the long black wall in DC, where I left my black beret and white gloves and a load of grief. Nowhere close to as tough a tour as CACO, but I count it a privilege to have served.
This story brings back the memories of the night in the Spring of 1969 when I sat with my cousin, an Army Captain, as he told me the story of his first time as a CACO.
The casualty was a soldier from a nearby farm town. I think the whole thing struck home because the trooper had grown up on a farm, had a wife and small child just like he did. My cousin mentioned that he would never hear Taps the same after that day.
My cousin left for Vietnam in April and died there 40 years ago tomorrow.
I thought of that converstion as he was laid to rest at his snow covered home town cemetery in January of 1970.
Taps has never sounded the same to me since that day.