In memory of PFC Joey Whitener 12/27/83 - 11/15/03
PFC Joey Whitener was just six weeks shy of his 20th Birthday, he dreamed his whole life of being in the Military, having a family, and living a "Military life". He was so proud to go overseas and serve his country, he said to me "At least I will be called a Veteran". PFC Joey Whitener was KIA (Killed in Action) on Nov. 15th, 2003. He had just came home on R&R for the birth of his first child on Sep. 3, 2003. His son Tristan was born on Sep. 13, 2003. He left to go back to Iraq on Oct. 20, 2003. On Nov. 15, 2003 at 1800hrs Joey and the rest of his section boarded a Blackhawk helicopter to provide "Eyes over Mosul" , a security mission that not only protected and assisted our U.S. soldiers on the ground but also the 2.7 million Iraqi people below in Mosul. Shortly after lift off two Blackhawk helicopters crashed in midair, sending one helicopter into a Iraqi school and the other onto the roof of a Iraqi house. There were 17 soldiers all from the 101st. Airborne Division out of Fort Campbell, KY that perished, 5 of them including Joey were from the Comanche Battery. Joey was a very loving husband, father, and friend. Joey will always be called a Veteran and will remain a Hero in the eyes of his friends and family. Joey, may God take your hand and walk with you
to the Promise Land. God Bless all of our Troops overseas and keep them safe from harm, may he bring them home safe to the families that await their arrival. Joey, I love you with all my heart and soul, you ARE my Hero, my first true love, and the father of our child. You will remain in my heart forever and always. GOD BLESS AMERICA!
Freedom Isn't Free
UNKNOWN AUTHOR
Enjoy Your Freedom & God Bless Our Troops
I watched the flag pass by one day,
It fluttered in the breeze.
A young Marine saluted it,
And then he stood at ease.
I looked at him in uniform
So young, so tall, so proud,
With hair cut square and eyes alert
He'd stand out in any crowd.
I thought how many men like him
Had fallen through the years.
How many died on foreign soil
How many mothers' tears?
How many pilots' planes shot down?
How many died at sea
How many foxholes were soldiers' graves?
No, freedom isn't free.
I heard the sound of Taps one night,
When everything was still,
I listened to the bugler play
And felt a sudden chill.
I wondered just how many times
That Taps had meant "Amen,"
When a flag had draped a coffin.
Of a brother or a friend.
I thought of all the children,
Of the mothers and the wives,
Of fathers, sons and husbands
With interrupted lives.
I thought about a graveyard
At the bottom of the sea
Of unmarked graves in Arlington.
No, freedom isn't free.
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