by Gene Ladnier

Created on: January 08, 2009

Perhaps someday we will al become a true Band of Brothers
One of the most despised yet most rewarding duties that a soldier may be assigned to do is that of survivor assistance. It is the type of duty that can be classified as an oxymoron, for it represents the bitterness of having to attend to a fellow warrior as he is laid to his final rest, yet brings out sweet memories of what he represented and what he died for.

During my long career in the Army I was assigned as Survivor Assistance Officer on several occasions. The most difficult one was one I actually volunteered for.

Shortly after my first tour of duty in Vietnam I was assigned to the Atomic Support Agency in New Mexico. Less than a month after arriving at my post I received a call from the parents of a young Infantry Paratrooper who had been killed in action.

The parents pointed out that I had been the platoon leader of, (for the parent's sake let's call him Johnny), in Vietnam and he wrote them often about how much he loved the men in his platoon and how I had brought them back alive from so many dangerous missions. They agreed that since Johnny felt so strongly about me, (his Platoon Daddy as I was dubbed), they asked if I would honor them by acting as his Survivor Assistance Officer. I asked and received permission to do so.

Johnny was no different from any of my other platoon members, a young (nineteen I think) Paratrooper who loved the Airborne and was very proud to be serving his country. I do remember that he was somewhat shy and didn't drink or smoke when back at base camp. He was also a devout Christian who talked more about his church than a girlfriend or car or the usual things the other men often discussed.

I met his casket in Oakland California, and escorted it to his hometown of Birmingham Alabama. Over the next several days I assisted the family in arranging the funeral, a military honor guard, a massive amount of paperwork, and many other duties, including meeting his pretty young fiance whom he never told anyone about.

Despite the fact that I was a total stranger, the members of the church congregation treated me as if I was Johnny's best friend (which in a way I guess I was). I went to a number of great dinners in a score of homes and everywhere I went I was told how proud Johnny was of being an Army Paratrooper and how proud he was to have been in my platoon and serving his country in time of need.

The day of the funeral turned out to be a bright sunny day and the church services were some

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