In Memory of Dave Auen (1949-1968)...

In 1968 he was a recent High School graduate; he was an average student, pursued some sport activities, drove a ten-year old jalopy and had a steady girlfriend that either broke-up with him when he left, or swore she would be waiting when he returned from half-a-world away. He listened to rock and roll and jazz and 155mm howitzers. He was 10 or 15 pounds lighter now than when he was at home because he is working or fighting from before dawn to well after dusk.

He has a little trouble spelling, thus letter writing is a pain for him, but he can field strip a rifle in 30 seconds and reassemble it in less time in the dark. He can recite to you the nomenclature of a machine gun or grenade launcher and use either one effectively if he must. He digs foxholes and latrines and can apply first aid like a professional. He can march until he is told to stop or stop until he is told to march.

He obeyed orders instantly and without hesitation, but he is not without spirit or individual dignity. He was self-sufficient. He had two sets of fatigues: he washes one and wears the other. He kept his canteens full and his feet dry. He sometimes forgot to brush his teeth, but never to clean his rifle. He could cook his own meals, mend his own clothes and fix his own hurts. If you're thirsty, he'd share his water with you; if you were hungry, his food. He'd even split his ammunition with you in the midst of battle when you had run low.

He learned to use his hands like weapons and weapons like they were his hands. He can save your life - or take it, because that is his job. He will often do twice the work of a civilian, draw one-tenth the pay and still find ironic humor in it all. He has seen more suffering and death then he should have in his short lifetime.

He has stood near dead bodies and may have had to help create a few. He has wept in public and in private, for friends, yes, and even enemies, who have fallen in combat and is unashamed. He feels every note of the National Anthem vibrate through his body while at rigid attention, while tempering the burning desire to 'square-away' those around him who haven't bothered to stand, remove their hat, or even stop talking. In an odd twist, day-in and day-out, far from home, he defends their right to be disrespectful.

Just as did his Father, Grandfather, and Great-grandfather, he has paid the price for our freedom. Beardless, but he is not a boy. He is the American Fighting Man that has kept this country free for over 200 years.

He has asked nothing in return, except our friendship and understanding. Remember him, always, for he has earned our respect and admiration with his blood, doing his part in this tradition of going to War when our nation calls us to do so. As you go to bed tonight, remember this image... A short lull, a little shade and a picture of this loved one in his helmet... Lance Corporal David Oliver Auen (1949-1968), May God Give You Rest and Peace...