A fateful day in Iraq

By SGT. FABIAN INDALECIO
Special to the Saipan Tribune

IRAQ—It was a quiet morning at about 9am, Oct. 31, 2005. The sun was just slowly rising in the east, hazy, and the breezy weather a little cold. Everything seemed so silent around the hooch as if everyone was gone. I was just by myself and was walking from the gym, wondering what had happened. As I passed a sergeant, I asked: “ Hey, where is everyone?”

He said, “They all went to the memorial ceremony for Sgt. Parker.”

How could have I forgotten, but I did on this particular morning. I proceeded to walk to the Tactical Operation Center and sat down resting, just looking around as I heard our brigade communication radio sending activity messages. Then the telephone rang. As I listened closely to what was being relayed to the sergeant in charge, I could tell it was serious as he wrote the messages down. I couldn’t help it—I inquired what is going on. He hung up the phone with a sad look on his face and said, “That was the Anaconda main, the brigade. Our boys got hit and they’ve been medivac-ed [medical evacuation].”

I was speechless for a moment, then I asked, “Who…who…who?”

“It was Jack and Lieto.”

Horror-struck, I gasped, “God, oh man…I hope they are alright.”

I was silent for a moment and had to keep telling myself that they will be OK. I was so upset by the news, I kept thinking about both soldiers with whom I was just riding with yesterday on the very same vehicle in a security convoy mission outside the wire. I sat back and took deep breaths, telling myself that everything will be fine. I didn’t think about anything more after that.

After a few minutes, I decided to get up and rush back to my hooch to review the many photos that I took of SSG Wilgene Lieto and CPL Derence Jack in yesterday’s mission. I came across a very nice photo of CPL Derence Jack, looking into a binocular up on his gun turret. Then I started to remember all the laughter that I shared with him and Wilgene on the Humvees yesterday.

I continued working and didn’t think much of the report anymore. The morning remained quiet as time passed. I was satisfied with my selection of Derence’s picture for our yearbook so I decided to save it. Just then, my battle buddy walked into my hooch and report the sad news to me, “ Indy, did you hear what happened?”

My heart started pounding and I said “No,…what!!!!?

He said, “Jack Derence passed away, and Sgt. Lieto is critically ill, and the commander wants you to come over to him!”

I looked at my friend in disbelief. I was cussing and was in so much pain. I was so shocked and could not even imagine that it was just yesterday that we were having a good laugh, and now my friend is gone. I stayed in the room for several minutes; I couldn’t move nor say anything. I wanted to cry, but everything was so overwhelming that I couldn’t shed a tear. Finally, I got a grip on myself, grabbed my weapon and walked to the truck so my friend could transport me to the hospital.

It was the longest and most quiet ride I ever had. We were both silent, punctuated from time to time with, “Oh my God, I hope Wilgene is OK.”

I arrived at the hospital, and I felt hesitant, asking myself if I’m ready to see Jack. Then I walked slowly toward the barrier entrance of the hospital; I looked and saw my friend, Staff Sgt. Ignacio “Ike” Palacios. I could see that his eyes were flowing with tears. I started to walk faster and started crying, too. We embraced very tightly and we both cried. It was a cry I will never forget.

Ike told me, “Wilgene is gone too.” I felt like a ton of bricks fell on top of me. I looked around and everyone was standing outside the hospital. Some were in tears while others were still in shock that Jack and Lieto were gone. I continued to glance around. I saw a soldier sitting around, just staring into the sky, while others were just staring at each other. It was a very emotional morning for everyone.

As the news spread back to the Echo Company, everyone immediately rushed and came to see our fallen comrades. This was the saddest morning for everyone. Just like the island spirit, everyone embraced, comforting each other that everything will be OK. Being a photographer, I went around taking photos of what was going on but it was very hard. I spotted SFC Robert briefing Echo Company commander Maj. Franklin Babauta of the incident, and both were in tears.

The day was so slow and quiet and you could sense that everyone was exhausted, but nobody left. Everybody wanted to stay around the hospital, just like the Lisayu (rosary) back home. The message came from the flight commander that the bodies of both Lieto and Jack would be air transported in the late evening to Kuwait. Darkness came and everyone was still waiting patiently. It was 9:55pm when word came out that it was time for the two soldiers’ bodies to be transported to the C5 military aircraft. I walked outside the gate of the terminal, and I was so overwhelmed at the sight of so many soldiers from other units and companies whom we didn’t know lining up, forming two lines all the way to the opening of the aircraft where the bodies will be placed. The sight was so awesome, with so much sense of unit spirit. One soldier at the hospital said, “ I have never seen this before.”

Everyone was silent, rendering a salute, as our two heroes were carried respectfully one by one onto the aircraft, while in the background one could hear the aircraft’s engine winding up, ready to be airborne.

Everyone then walked up slowly and surrounded the bodies of Wilgene and Derence inside the airplane and the chaplain began a prayer. This was followed by the CNMI anthem that was sung by the boys of the Echo Company. As the boys sang, I looked around and everyone was looking down and trying very hard to sing as much as they could clearly sing the song of our beloved friends.

One Air Force soldier asked me, “ What are they singing?” I said, “ Our Northern Marianas anthem” and he responded, “ Wow, that is nice.” As the song came to an end, everyone touched the two flags placed on the caskets of Jack and Wilgene and said their last respect: “Good-bye, brod!!,” “Goodbye, Wil!,” “Goodbye, Jack!!,” and slowly walked out of the aircraft, all embracing each other that everything will be OK, because the island spirit lives on.