I lost a friend

I found out today that one of my best friends I had while I was in the Army was killed last week.

Ironically, I had sent him an email yesterday to wish him a Happy Birthday (he would have been 37 Monday). His wife, Janna, saw the email and called me to let know the news. Devastated does not begin to describe how I feel.

SFC Richard Flick was a great guy, and an unbelievable soldier. He took care of his men, without fail. When I deployed with him to NTC in 1992, he and I had to clean one of the vehicles that we used during the rotation. He and I waited in line for about 6 hours (in the middle of the night) to get a shot at the wash rack, just talking and sleeping. It was so cold that night we used the heating tube from the HMMWV inside out flight suits to warm up.When he found out that I would not be on the flight crew going back home immediately, he made sure that I would get a flight the next day, just so I could get home to my wife sooner, so I would not have to ride in the 5-day convoy. He would go and get doughnuts for the platoon when in garrsion, and make sure that everyone got fed when in the field. There are other stories too numerous to tall. But SGT Flick (I knew him when he was an E-5; he made SFC just before he deployed to Iraq) was one hell of a fine soldier and cavalryman. His loss to the Army cannot be measured.

We kept in touch over the years after I got out, and just last month I gave him a call to see how he was doing. He returned from Iraq in December, to be with his wife, Janna. They had 4 months together before his accident. As she said to me, "He was too young to die, and I am too young to be a widow." 4 months; a lifetime. His last words to me on the phone were, "I'll email you and let you know what is going on, I promise. Great talking to you, Stu".

A story all to f***ing familiar: Soldier (Hero) comes home after serving honorably in a theater of war only to be killed Stateside.

I was looking forward to seeing him, as well as meeting Janna.

Mr. and Mrs. Flick, I am so sorry for your loss. I hope that hearing how fine your son was will somehow dampen your sorrow.

Janna, if you ever read this, know that I am with you in prayer. I look forward to meeting you someday, and we can talk about the times we had with him together.

Drinking beers the whole time. He wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

Rich, I know that you will be waiting for me and the rest of the Platoon at Fiddler's Green. I cannot wait to see you there...

Fiddler's Green

Halfway down the trail to hell

In a shady meadow green,

Are the souls of all dead troopers camped

Near a good old-time canteen

And this eternal resting place

Is known as Fiddler's Green.

Marching past, straight through to hell,

The infantry are seen,

Accompanied by the Engineers,

Artillery and Marine,

For none but the shades of Cavalrymen

Dismount at Fiddlers' Green.

Though some go curving down the trail

To seek a warmer scene,

No trooper ever gets to Hell

Ere he's emptied his canteen,

And so rides back to drink again

With friends at Fiddlers' Green.

And so when man and horse go down

Beneath a saber keen,

Or in a roaring charge or fierce melee

You stop a bullet clean,

And the hostiles come to get your scalp,

Just empty your canteen,

And put your pistol to your head

And go to Fiddlers' Green.

God bless you Rich. I will miss you, my old friend.


UPDATE: I thought this other picture would be better; him and the love of his life.