By James V. Walker
When 1st Sgt. Terry Canty arrives at the doorstep, she's wearing her sharpest Army dress uniform, pressed and polished. She carries a letter, just paper, but heavy all the same.
"Normally, when they see me, the family is expecting to get bad news just because of how I'm dressed," Canty said.
It's the moment every military family prays will never come, opening the front door to learn a loved one has been killed. But for the officers, like Canty, who bear the news, that moment comes all too often.
In the relative peace of recent years, most military deaths came from natural causes or car accidents. In the war with Iraq, 22 Americans have been killed, including Marine 2nd Lt. Therrel Childers, a Mississippian.
Whatever the cause of death, the job of the notification officer is to be compassionate and professional, Canty said.
That usually involves reading from a prepared statement, with little deviation from the script. Questions must be saved for later, for a separate "casualty assistance officer."
But things don't always go by the script, she said.
She once was slapped across the face by an elderly woman when she delivered the news that her great grandson had died.
On another occasion, a divorced soldier's listed next of kin was his 10-year-old son, so regulation required Canty to deliver the death notification to the boy directly.
She handles notifications and the advice and assistance that come later, but not usually for the same families, she said. Often, people hurl anger and insults at the initial messenger and don't want to see them again.
"A lot of people don't have the stomach to do it," Canty said. "There's a lot of emotion involved. Sometimes people take the training, only to back up later and say they don't want to do it."
The reason she wanted to do it was simple: she saw her father, a veteran, treated with respect and given full military honors when he died.
"I personally feel honored to be a part of that process," she said. "And I think that, when it's my turn, I want somebody who feels the way I do."
Linda Whittington, at Fort Polk, La., coordinates the Army's death notifications in three states, including Mississippi.
She gets information from the Pentagon and sends it to trained officers at nearby military bases or units.
Death notifications are always delivered in person, but injuries can be handled by phone, Whittington said. The person delivering the message is always at least as high in rank as the deceased.
Whenever possible, a chaplain and sometimes medical personnel go along, she said. When needed, local police can be called in to help track down next of kin.
Sue Lowry, a casualty assistance representative at Columbus Air Force Base, helps families through the period after an airman's death. She provides information, arranges for funerals with military honors and helps secure benefits.
She said she often spends hours on the phone with family members, just listening while they tell old stories or talk through their emotions. Assistance can last weeks or months, "as long as they need help."
But the hardest part, she said, is the initial visit, within 24 hours of the first notification, while the family is still stricken with grief.
"I take it home with me all the time," Lowry said of her job. "It's not a fun job to do."
The military tries to get accurate information out to family members as quickly as possible, she said. That's why it's important for service members to have their next-of-kin paperwork up to date with correct names and addresses.
"Our motto in the casualty assistance field is that we need to do this as accurately and quickly as possible, and we need to beat CNN," she said. "We want to spare families having to learn about a death through the media."
Here's the story of another family, deep in grief.
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Laura Noel/AJC
Jamaal R. Addison II stands at a memorial service for his father Thursday in Conyers. Spec. Jamaal Addison was the first metro casualty in Iraq. Story | Photo tribute
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News of death confirms relatives' fears
By JANITA POE
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
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George Roberts was talking on the telephone with his daughter Patricia when two Army staff sergeants came to her door.
They brought the heartbreaking news about metro Atlanta's first soldier to die in the Iraq war, Spc. Jamaal Addison, 22.
"Suddenly, she was hollering and screaming, 'Daddy, he's gone. Daddy, he's gone,' " Roberts, 79, said Thursday. "My other daughter took the phone and told me two staff sergeants were at the house, and I just hung up the phone and rushed on over."
Roberts' grandson and Pfc. Howard Johnson, 21, of Mobile, were listed as killed Sunday. Military officials released their names on Wednesday. They were members of the 507th Maintenance Company, from Fort Bliss in El Paso. The company was ambushed Sunday near Nasiriyah, 230 miles south of Baghdad.
Roberts, a retired New York City chauffeur who lives with his wife in Conyers, suspected the Tuesday morning visit from the military was coming. A videotape shot by the Arab satellite television network Al-Jazeera and shown on some American news networks showed four bodies that Al-Jazeera said were Americans from the attack on the 507th.
"I looked as close as I could but I couldn't see his face," said Roberts. "But Jamaal was a big boy -- 6-foot-2 -- and I saw a body that looked like his and I told my wife, 'You know, that looks like Jamaal.' "
Military officials have not said Addison was among those bodies shown in the video.
Addison recently married his wife, Tek'la, and settled in Roswell. He has a 3-year-old daughter, Christian, and they have a 23-month-old son, Jamaal R. Addison II.
On Thursday, as separate memorial services were held in Georgia for Addison and a helicopter crew killed in a crash in Afghanistan, military officials said an Arkansas man was the latest war casualty.
Hospital Corpsman Third Class (Fleet Marine Force) Michael Vann Johnson Jr., 25, of Little Rock was killed Wednesday while tending a wounded serviceman, the Defense Department said. He was a member of the 1st Marine Division Detachment from San Diego.
The memorial service for Addison was held at White's Chapel United Methodist Church in Conyers. About 300 friends, family and well-wishers attended the service, which was officiated by the Rev. Julius H. Kidd, senior pastor.
As Kidd read the biblical promises that sorrow will pass (Isaiah 25:8; Revelation 21:4), he spoke to three generations of Addisons, who wore red, white and blue ribbons.
"God is saying he sees your pain, Addison family, and he's going to wipe away your tears. You're going to come to understand that Jamaal is looking right now in the face of Jesus."
Wearing a T-shirt with Addison's picture and the words, "In loving memory of Jamaal," was his cousin Shawn Smith, 22, of Conyers.
"Jamaal was my angel out of my whole family. He never said anything bad about anyone," said Smith.
A trust fund has been set up for Addison's son. Contributions to the Jamaal Rashard Addison II Memorial Trust Fund can be made through White's Chapel United Methodist Church.
At Moody Air Force Base near Valdosta, about 1,200 mourners packed a hangar to honor the six members of the 347th Operations Group rescue team killed Sunday during a medical mercy mission.
Thank you for this meaningful post.
I truly hope that the peace protesters read this and realize where their freedoms come from.
BUMP for honor.
Casualty Notification is NEVER easy duty. We lost a member of my flight school class, three weeks after we got our wings, and I was the Squadron "Duty Dog" that day (i.e. waiting for next training class to begin...). Got told to put on Dress Blues and report to the Wing Commander's office ASAP.
We took two cars into the housing area: The Wing Commander, my Squadron commander, and myself in the Wing Commander's car, and a nurse and a chaplain in the second car.
What made it worse, is that he had just gotten married, the day after we all got our wings, and I had been an usher at the wedding. I was also the one who had to carry The Letter.
By the time Casualty Notification was over, I was almost as much a wreck as she was. It's a duty you NEVER want to have to do. And it's utterly necessary. . .
You posted the story "Delivering tragic news to military families tough way to make a living" by James V. Walker. I am his wife. James was killed in a car accident shortly after this article was written on April 9, 2003. He was on his way to interview the family of a solider that was killed in the war. James was an wonderful writer and I am glad that you shared this article with people. It was one of his best pieces. The story really touched him. We spent hours talking about it. Thank you again for sharing this story.
Kelyn Walker