Finding My Way Back on The Long Road Home

I’m not sure any of the survivors of the battle of Sadr City will ever really be home again. It is indeed a long road. But the series taught me a lot about myself, a lot about others and helped me come to grip with who I am and where I want to go next.

My experience, both with the real ambush and the dramatized version, has been insane to say the least. Back in 2004 when my platoon was pinned down on a rooftop in Sadr City, I vividly recall talking with the soldiers I was with about who we wanted to play us in a movie if one was ever made. It was a joke. A tension reliever. I did not ever imagine it would really happen. Until it did. Fast forward thirteen years. There had been more war and more loss, but the battle of Sadr City still weighed heavily. My role in the battle was written about in Martha Raddatz’s book years before, but when I was first approached about being part of this mini-series project I was very scared. I was scared of opening up my life to others. I was scared of being vulnerable. I was scared of the responsibility and frightened to come face to face with the Gold Star Families. I hesitated knowing my family would see a cinematic representation of the day I was given the greatest gift of my life. The gift of time. More time than I know what to do with and not enough time to do all the things that should be done. My worries began to fade as soon as I met the screenwriter and showrunner, Mikko Alanne. I honestly don’t know if I would have been involved if it wasn't for Mikko, who I now consider such a good friend that I look at him as family. His reassuring manner and the gentle display of empathy rekindled my own sense of empathy. That is what sparked my acceptance of the project and my willingness to put my fears aside and become part of the project.

On the very first day I went down to the pre-production office I was blown away. It was like walking into a museum where my best friends were on display. Their pictures hung on the wall, and their exploits were captured and reproduced with painstaking detail. I remember seeing the first model of the set and the way the tiny, fake paper trees were lined around the outskirts of the buildings. Small, tan army men were placed next to vehicles and on rooftops. The memories flooded back. I broke down in tears in front of a room full of strangers, making noises like a preschool child. Luckily for me, I was there that day with one of my closest friends, Aaron Fowler. I needed his support. Aaron was shot 3 separate times that day in the attempts to rescue the platoon. I’ll forever be grateful to men like him. Not just for that day, but for the strength and vulnerability they show now. They value their family and friends and aren’t afraid to ask for help. It’s what I try to do as well.

Being able to be on set and walk through that re-created Sadr City in the heart of Ft. Hood was an experience like nothing else. To say it was surreal would be an understatement. One of the greatest joys was being able to invite my comrades to walk down those dusty streets and talk about the detail, and remember—together—that day that changed us all. I will treasure the memories of being there with members of Gold Star families and walking those same dusty streets. Sharing in their experience with them will be a memory I treasure like the birth of my children. It truly was unforgettable and I’m grateful that I was able to share it with so many people because this generation of veterans does not have the chance, and maybe never will, to revisit their battlefields and this was such a perfect re-creation.

Once production got rolling it was easy to turn my mind off to what was around me and to just answer questions the cast and crew had. I’d spoken at length to some people that I respect to help guide me through what was going on and how to deal with it. I’m very fortunate to have such a wide network of friends from my time in the Army. One of the key things that helped me cope and helped me open up publicly about my own memories is my strong relationship with those friends and my family. I know that staying connected to them is what made all the difference for me. And there was the added benefit that some of them were sharing more of their experiences from April 4, 2004, just like I was. Almost every day during production I learned something new about the battle that I had never known before.

Five months of intense exposure therapy in a safe and comfortable environment that looked and felt so much like Sadr City prepared me for the media onslaught once we wrapped the production. From Cannes, to New York, to Washington D.C. and finally to Los Angeles, I told the story of my experiences of being on set with the cast and crew and on the front lines so many years before to a global audience. It was a whirlwind like I have never seen, but more than that it was another affirmation of something I already knew; family is everything. I’m thankful that I have such a great support system backing me up while I traveled around talking about this project. It was a responsibility I did not take lightly, yet it was immensely healing telling my story over and over, being able to acknowledge and share great deeds I witnessed and to pass on the legacy of warriors.

I’m writing all this just a few days before the airing of the episode titled “Abandon Hope”. I’m still not quite sure how I will feel after it airs, or even years from now. To watch the talented actor, Jon Beavers portrayal of me is an out of body experience. From the beginning Jon has shown me and all of my Army brothers, as well as the families, such care and respect. I do know this though. I know that speaking out and telling my story has helped me heal. It has helped me come to grips with who I am. I am lucky. I encourage everyone to speak out and share their stories with the people that love them. It’s always much worse in your own head than it is in reality. So thank you to my family, my friends, and my new “Long Road Home” family. With that I have to acknowledge some people and organizations that were responsible for all of this. Foremost, the Gold Star families. It is not lost on me why I draw breath. When I see you I am reminded of what sacrifice really means. I hope that this experience has been helpful and not hurtful. I know that seeing your courage taught me so much. Thank you, Martha. Your steadfast love and dedication to the Lancer family has been how this all has started. Mikko, thanks for giving our story to the world via National Geographic and all the amazing writers like Lana Cho and Alan DiFiore. Coin holders, I hope you feel the burden of responsibility and the quiet comfort of joy in what you have created.