Here's one that was in today's Star Ledger. Benjamin L Sebban of South Amboy gave his life for this country. Condolences to the family, may he rest in peace.

The article noted that:
The Iraq war began five years ago today and has long since fallen to the back of the minds of many Americans. A recent survey by the Pew Research Center found only one in four Americans knew roughly how many U.S. service members have died in the war.
The answer is nearly 4,000, including at least 88 with ties to New Jersey.






ARLINGTON, Va. -- The paratroopers came to burial plot 8613 here on Monday, a year to the day since their friend, Army Sgt. 1st Class Benjamin L. Sebban of South Amboy, died in Iraq.
Some, like Maj. Brad Rather and Capt. Braden Hestermann, made the five-hour drive up I-95 from Fort Bragg, N.C., to Arlington National Cemetery. Capt. Larry Robinson, wounded by a bomb blast 13 months ago, made the short trip across town from Walter Reed Army Medical Center.

They stood near Sebban's grave for more than three hours. They laughed, fought back tears and told Sebban's mother, Barbara Walsh, and his brothers, Daniel and David, former soldiers themselves, stories about the medic who has been recommended for the Distinguished Service Cross, the nation's second-highest award for valor.

Then the paratroopers walked among the gleaming headstones at Arlington, searching for other familiar names. They didn't have to go far.
"I've got five friends in these three rows right here," said Hestermann, a Nebraska native and West Point graduate. "Guys I looked up to. Guys I learned from. Guys like Ben, who were an inspiration to me."

The Iraq war began five years ago today and has long since fallen to the back of the minds of many Americans. A recent survey by the Pew Research Center found only one in four Americans knew roughly how many U.S. service members have died in the war.
The answer is nearly 4,000, including at least 88 with ties to New Jersey.

The numbers are no abstraction for the men who fought alongside Sebban, who was 29 when he died. They were assigned to Charlie Troop of the 5th Squadron of the 73rd Cavalry, a hand-picked group of 300 paratroopers from the 82nd Airborne Division. Twenty-two of them died, one of the highest casualty rates of any unit in Iraq.

"There's not a day that goes by that I don't think about Ben and those guys," Rather said.
They were losses the men who came to Arlington took particularly hard because they had gone to Iraq to fight -- and to heal the wounded.

Rather, a former infantryman, was the battalion physician's assistant. Robinson, the battalion surgeon. Hestermann was the medical platoon leader. And Sebban was the most sure-handed medic any of them had ever seen.
He'd been born while his mother was serving as a missionary in Africa. He'd taken an early interest in medicine.

After following his mother's wishes that he attend a bible college, Sebban enlisted to become a medic. He rose rapidly through the ranks and volunteered to go to Iraq with the cavalry unit.

"My brother found out another sergeant's wife was having a baby," Daniel Sebban said. "He volunteered to take his place so that man could see his child born."

Sebban made fast friends with the medical team from the cavalry unit. He let nervous young medics practice inserting IVs in his arm. He took Robinson, the battalion surgeon, under his wing, coaching the doctor just out of medical school to become a crack shot on the rifle range. He was forever playing practical jokes on Rather, once slipping a smelly salami into his duffel bag.

Rather saw Sebban the morning he died. Sebban had good news. He'd won promotion to sergeant first class, two away from the highest enlisted rank.
"He was so excited. All of us were so happy for him," Rather said. "It meant he was going to make a career out of it."

Rather headed back to the unit headquarters at Forward Operating Base Warrior. Sebban stayed behind at a patrol base in a former school building near Baquba, an insurgent stronghold north of Baghdad.

At 6:17 on the evening of March 17, 2007, an insurgent driving a flatbed truck loaded with explosives crashed into the patrol base. Multiple witness accounts say that instead of taking cover, Sebban ran into the open and shouted a warning for others to get down before the truck blew up.
The bomb detonated and a piece of shrapnel pierced Sebban's lower abdomen. When the dust cleared, Sebban was on his feet. Someone asked if he was OK.

"I'm good. I'm good. I've got to check casualties," Sebban replied.
Sebban worked on the wounded for about 10 minutes before collapsing. He bled to death before the medevac helicopter arrived.

"I don't think he knew he was hit," Rather said.
Word of the explosion reached headquarters quickly. "The report was mass casualties, one possible KIA (killed in action)," Rather said. "I didn't think it could possibly be Ben. He was indestructible. Then Braden (Hestermann) came in and I could tell he'd been crying. Then I knew."

In the days after the attack, Rather and Hestermann were among the officers who pieced together accounts of the attack. Their efforts became part of the paperwork that led commanders to recommend Sebban for the Distinguished Service Cross, the award second only to the Congressional Medal of Honor. So far, only nine have been awarded for the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Sebban may become the 10th. His paperwork has been approved by Gen. David Petraeus, the top commander in Iraq. Final approval, however, must come from the Army's Human Resources Command.

"Ben deserves it," Hestermann told Sebban's mother.
His mother said the name of the award isn't what matters. "That's in God's hands," Walsh said.

What was more important to her, she said, was hearing the stories from the men who served with her son.
Rather reminded her about the salami Sebban had slipped into his bag. She reminded him that Sebban had also arranged for Rather to receive a gift certificate to a restaurant near Fort Bragg so he could take his wife out to dinner when he went home on leave.

Robinson, who was sent home with a fractured skull from a bomb blast two weeks before Sebban was killed, had a story, too.
"After I got blown up, he packed up my camera. He made a video of himself on it," Robinson said. "He was like: 'Hey Doc, I'm sorry you got blown up. Get better and I'll see you soon.'"

Robinson discovered the video about two months after Sebban died.
"Sure, enough, I'll see him again some day."