Casey's Story by Cindy Sheehan

 

    My son, Casey Austin Sheehan, was born on May 29, 1979. After a long labor, he was born on Memorial Day. I would look into his eyes and see a depth of wisdom there from the time he was born. He was born with an "old soul." As a proud mom, I knew, and I would tell everyone who would listen to me, that he was going to be a great man. I was right. I just didn't realize how great he was going to be ... or how much his moment of greatness was going to hurt me.

    Casey was a very goodbaby. From the time he was about 7 months old and had gone into his own room, he would wake up in the morning and talk to himself and play with his crib gym. His dad and I would lie in our room and listen to him play. When he learned to walk, he would come up behind me when I would be doing the dishes and he would throw his arms around my legs, kiss me on the butt, and say: "I wuv you mama." He had a little teddy bear that he called "Bear." He ate all the fur off of it and he ate all the fuzz from the inside of it. He wouldn't go to bed without it though. I still have his bear and it is now sitting on the shelf by the flag that was draped over his coffin.

    Casey was our first born. We had three more children after him. Carly, Andy, and Janey. Their dad, my husband Pat, made our family of six complete. We did everything together. The kids went to Catholic school together. Even when one of us would want a frozen yogurt, we would all pile into "Vanna White," our white Chevy Astro Van, and we would go to Bellflower, to Yogurt Lee, together. There was no such thing as one of us going and bringing yogurt home for everybody. We all just went.

    On most Friday nights, we would have "Chicks and Dudes" night. After a long week of work, school, and other activities, we would go out to dinner. Usually at Chris and Pitts in Bellflower, where you could get a good and filling bar-be-que dinner for about 25 dollars for our entire family of six. Anyway, we would go home and watch TGIF on ABC. Full House and the show that Steve Urkel was on were among the shows on TGIF. The "Chicks:" me, Carly, and Janey, would go in the parent's room to watch TGIF; the "Dudes:" Pat, Casey, and Andy, would stay in the living room and watch the shows. The kids still remember those nights fondly. The boys having some quality time with their dad and the girls doing the same with their mom.

    Casey was always a good boy. He could play for hours by himself. He loved Nintendo, G.I. Joes, World Wrestling Federation, baseball (especially the Dodgers), his church and God. He joined Cub Scouts when he was in 1st grade and he eventually earned the rank of Eagle Scout. He became an altar boy when he was 8 and he continued serving his church for the rest of his life. He loved to act and was in the International Thespian Society when he was in high school. Before he joined the Army, he earned an A.A. degree in drama. He was a reporter for his college newspaper. He never talked back to his dad or me. He rarely fought with his brother and sisters. He loved our animals and he loved little children.

    Everyone assumed Casey was going to be a priest, because he was so faithful to God and to the church. He never missed mass, even when he went into the Army. If he was on post, he went to mass. He served his church in every capacity that a lay person can. He also was very involved with the youth ministry of our parish, especially when I was the Youth Minister. Even after he graduated from high school, he stayed active in the ministry, helping me as a young adult leader. Casey confided in me, though, that he wanted to get married and have children. He hoped one day to be a permanent Deacon in the church. Deacons can get married and serve the church in various ways. Casey also confided to me that he was a virgin and he wanted to save himself and give his virginity to his wife as a wedding present. He took lots of heat for that in the Army. Pat and I always wondered why he would even tell anyone he was still a virgin, but he did. His buddies would say: "Sheehan, you gotta get laid." He would just say: "Naw, that's okay."

    Casey was such a good Christian and good Catholic, that when his chapel on Ft. Hood started a new Knights of Columbus Council, they named it the "Spc. Casey Austin Sheehan Council." The brother Knights told Pat and me that he embodied everything that they want to stand for: Love of God, Country, Family, Church, and Service. Pat and I were honored that they would name their Council after Casey. Casey's name and what he stood for will always be remembered on Ft. Hood. The Knights were going to name their new Council after a Priest who had served there for quite awhile, but after they heard about Casey's heroic sacrifice they decided to name the Council after him. They all voted unanimously to do this.

    In the beginning of this essay, I told you the day Casey was born, but I bet you have guessed from the body of the essay that Casey is no longer with us. Casey joined the Army in May, 2000. His recruiter told him that he would be able to finish college, be a Chaplain's Assistant, receive a $20,000 signing bonus, and most insidiously and heartbreakingly, that he would never see combat. Casey scored so high on the ASVAB (military competency test) that he would only be in a support role and he would never be in a battle. Well, every promise that Casey's recruiter made to him, he broke. The only promise that I care about, though, is the one where Casey would never see battle.

    Casey's division, the First Cavalry Division, out of Ft. Hood, was sent to Iraq in March, 2004. He called home once from Kuwait on March 14th. He said he was hot, they had been busy getting ready to convoy to Baghdad, and he was on his way to Mass (naturally). His company, Charlie Battery, convoyed peacefully to Baghdad and reached their post F.O.B. War Eagle in Sadr City on March 19th. On April 4th, Palm Sunday, we got the word that Casey had been killed in an ambush. The first chance he got, my brave, wonderful, faithful, sweet, gentle and kind boy volunteered for a rescue mission as a Combat Life Saver. He was a Humvee mechanic who never should have gone on a mission like that. Casey and 20 of his buddies were sent into a raging insurgent uprising to rescue wounded soldiers. Only 13 of them returned. Casey was riding in the back of a trailer with no protection when they were ambushed. He was killed within minutes of the ambush. He was able to return fire and buy some time for his unit. His actions that day saved lives. Casey is a hero who belongs to history now, but I wish he were a living breathing coward. So I could still talk to him, e-mail him, send him care packages, Christmas Presents, hug him and never let go when he got back from War.

    This war has devastated my family, but especially me. My sweet boy who never passed up a chance to kiss my behind and tell me he "wuvs" me is gone forever. God, I hope this war ends before other mothers have to go through this. I hope that our planet and world survives four more years of the lies and betrayals of this president. Eventually, this war will end, as all wars end. This president will either bumble through four more years, or he will do something so egregious that he will be impeached. But when this nightmare is over for the world, it will go on for me. Forever, and ever, without end. Amen.

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t r u t h o u t - William Rivers Pitt | Silent Night

Silent Night
    By William Rivers Pitt
    t r u t h o u t | Perspective

    Monday 26 December 2005

    The first paragraph of the story reads, "An Ohio soldier was killed in Iraq on Christmas Eve when he was attacked by enemy forces, the Department of Defense announced Sunday." This lost soldier from Ohio is one of 2,168 who have died in Iraq. His death is no harder than all the others, no less wrenching for his family. Somehow, however, this death on Christmas Eve brought an extra twist of the knife for me, though I did not know the man, and now, never will.

    I'm not sure why. Certainly I am thinking of his family, who found out the day before Christmas that a beloved son was gone. I cannot even begin to imagine their sorrow. They experienced, along with every other family of every soldier fighting over there, the fear of that knock on the door, or that phone call, or that telegram. On Christmas Eve, the terrible message came. Santa brought them a crisply folded American flag, and the thanks of a grateful nation. Christmas will never be the same for them, ever. There are no words for this. None.

    Perhaps I am also thinking about the much-ballyhooed "War on Christmas" we have been hearing so much about of late. That foolishness may be over thanks to the rolling of calendar pages, but the rank idiocy of it all will linger for a while. Anyone who attempts to genuinely convince you that there is some sort of organized assault on Christmas is either astonishingly stupid, irrevocably deluded, trying to sell you something, or trying to distract your attention from something. As this is America in the waning days of 2005, it could very easily be all four.

    In case you haven't noticed, Christmas is doing just fine. Leave aside the fact that Jesus-shouting hypocrites have managed to occupy every office of national significance and power. Leave aside the fact that these Jesus-shouting hypocrites are celebrating Christmas along with a majority of the country, said majority being comprised of entirely sane Christians who are wondering how these benighted yahoos managed to steal their religion. Leave aside all the Christmas trees, Christmas decorations, and advertisements for Christmas shopping opportunities that have bombarded anyone dumb enough to turn on a television since early November.

    This whole thing was ginned up by a fantastically wretched fool on the Fox News Channel named John Gibson. He recently wrote a book titled - can you guess? - "The War on Christmas," and his network graciously agreed to beat the drum so he could sell his book.

    Hmm.

    The only war on Christmas happening in the last week was fought by soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan who are away from family and in harm's way, many for their second or third tours.

    The war on Christmas this past week was fought by tens of thousands of soldiers who are learning how to face life without an arm, without a leg, without eyes, without a face, with permanent brain damage, and perhaps worst of all, with the prospect of diminished veterans benefits because those benefits were cut by an administration that needs money to pay for the production of more wounded soldiers.

    The war on Christmas this past week was fought by tens of thousands of Iraqi families who have had friends and loved ones killed, maimed or tortured.

    The war on Christmas this past week was fought by tens of thousands of American families who have friends and loved ones in harm's way, or in a hospital, or six feet under the ground.

    On Saturday night, the war on Christmas was fought by a family in Ohio who will never see their beloved boy again.

    On Sunday, the war on Christmas was fought by a friend of my mother named Frank, whose son has been deployed to Iraq for the last year. He has remained mercifully unharmed, and is scheduled to rotate home on Tuesday, December 27. For Frank, his wife, and their family, the war on Christmas is represented by the slow passage of seconds, the agonizing awareness of the gulf of time that stands between right now and his safety. Two days? An eternity. Just ask that family from Ohio.

    Cindy Sheehan fought the war on Christmas, passing the holiday without her beloved son Casey, who was killed in Iraq. "Peace on Earth is not just a platitude to sing about or stick on Christmas cards," she wrote in an email that came on Christmas Eve. "It is a value worth giving everything for."

    Take a silent moment tonight and offer a thought or prayer to that Ohio family. Take a silent moment to offer a thought or prayer for the safe return of Frank's son. Take a silent moment to offer a thought or prayer to all of the families for whom this Iraq occupation is more than fleeting images on the television.

    Take a silent moment and consider what you will do in the New Year - what you will give - to bring about the peace on Earth that Cindy Sheehan spoke of.