Your friend, Tim, lives on in his wife, his daughter, and his friends.
TAPS
Amazing Grace
Posted on 06/21/2005 11:46:44 PM PDT by txradioguy
SALINA, Kan. - Deanna Millsap has often celebrated Father's Day without her dad around.
That's life when you're a military kid - you get used to sharing your dad with the Army.
A "business trip" for her sergeant dad meant he'd be spending a year behind barbed-wire fences in a war zone. "Sightseeing" meant he'd don a bulletproof vest, helmet and his weapon. "Business dinners" came in neatly wrapped brown packages called Meals Ready to Eat.
When he was home in Kansas, he was a cool dad who sometimes fixed MREs for Deanna and her friends. Having a drill sergeant dad meant that he cared for soldiers who looked up to him as if he were their father, too.
He had many skills, including one he learned as a drill sergeant: "He could yell really, really loud," Deanna says with a grin and the tone of someone who really, really knows.
He also had a special whisper that cut even deeper.
This Father's Day, Deanna's dad again won't be with her, although he came home weeks ago.
1st Sgt. Tim Millsap, 39, was killed in Iraq by a roadside bomb near a rural town called Taji on April 25. He was in the second Humvee, commander's side. He was a combat engineer with Company A, 70th Engineer Battalion, 3rd Brigade, 1st Armored Division.
His death, No. 49 at Fort Riley, created barely a ripple in the world outside the military.
But the death of this one man, with dimples deep enough to drop a nickel into, this sergeant who could joke as easily with a private or a general, broke many hearts. He was one month shy of 20 years serving his country.
***
Beneath the roiling skies of yet another Kansas thunderstorm, Deanna and her mother, Alyne Millsap, sit together in their home and remember. Alyne and Tim, both natives of Wichita, were high school sweethearts who married just after their graduation. They lived the past three years in Salina.
Alyne and Deanna share tears but giggles too, remembering a funny story, a glint of a happy life.
"He made us laugh," says Alyne, dabbing her eyes. "A lot. The stories are still funny the third and fourth time around."
And, in remembering the stories, they see him once more:
The times he took Deanna squirrel hunting, marveling at his daughter's skill. Deanna smiles wide, telling about how her dad once used a rabbit carcass as a puppet to bug Alyne.
The time he ate peas, a-g-o-n-i-z-i-n-g-l-y slowly, spearing them one at a time, all the while trying not to grin at Deanna because he knew his wife was rolling her eyes.
And the time when a friend commented on how beautiful Deanna was and he answered by saying it was time he started cleaning his guns on the front porch to ward off would-be suitors.
Mother and daughter still laugh, remembering.
Tim Millsap made his troops laugh, too.
Capt. Terry Alvarez, formerly with the 1st Engineer Battalion and now stationed at Fort Riley, knew Millsap for six years. Millsap was his best friend, he says, a man who had a talent for fun and seriousness.
His favorite Millsap story is the one about the glasses. It seems Alvarez is absent-minded with his glasses and often forgets where he left them. After dinner at the Millsaps' home one night - "Mooching another free meal," Alvarez says - he left his glasses behind.
He called Tim and asked him to bring them to work the next morning. Millsap told him it would be no problem.
But the next morning, Millsap used those glasses as only he could.
"(Tim) walks into the office. He can be loud when he wanted to," Alvarez says. "And he could sound really mad, really furious, but not be mad at all. There were about 10 to 15 people there, and Tim, in his angriest voice, said: 'YOU WANT TO TELL ME WHAT YOUR GLASSES WERE DOING ON MY WIFE'S NIGHTSTAND?"
Office chatter became dead silence. Alvarez was so startled he began stuttering, until he looked at his friend's face.
That's when he saw them: Millsap's dimples, in all their glory.
"The dimple thing..." Alvarez says with a chuckle. "You could always tell when he was being a wiseass because those dimples would show. You knew he was up to something."
Beyond the laughter, Millsap also taught Alvarez how to be a leader.
Early one morning when the two were training, Millsap woke Alvarez 45 minutes before the troops were required to get up. In his hands were a coffee pot and cans of Vienna sausages. When Alvarez complained that it was too early, Millsap told him that if a leader wasn't ready to go, the troops wouldn't be, either.
"Don't ever hold a soldier to a standard you won't hold yourself," Alvarez remembers him saying. It was the first of many lessons.
"To Tim, leadership was a 24-hour-a-day occupation," he said at Millsap's Fort Riley memorial in May. "(Tim) was consumed with making sure soldiers were taken care of, whether it was enforcing training standards, taking a soldier's family member to the grocery store so they could buy some food, or helping a young soldier fix his car. ... It tore him up when soldiers were injured or killed.
"...Right now he is thanking God that the other soldiers in the vehicle with him are all right."
News of Millsap's death bounced around the world, from continent to continent, among soldiers who had served with him.
In South Korea, Spc. John Wollaston had to give himself a few hours of solitude.
"I wasn't the only one who had to do that, either," he says in a telephone call.
Wollaston now signs off every Internet posting with a short tribute: In Memory Of My Friend 1st Sgt. Tim Millsap ... KIA 25 April 2005.
Col. Russ Gold - who is now at Fort Knox, Ky., but who spent a year in Baghdad as commander of the 3rd Brigade, 1st Armored Division - says dozens of former 3rd Brigade "Bulldogs" called or e-mailed him when word of Millsap's death was released. In each letter, he says, soldiers talked about how much Millsap's death hurt.
"He left an everlasting impact on all he touched, which is why so many of us still mourn his loss," Gold says.
From Germany, chaplain Larry Blum writes in an e-mail that he'd heard the news from several soldiers. Blum worked side by side with Millsap, who was the brigade's equal-opportunity adviser and also handled Red Cross messages from home.
Blum says he was impressed with Millsap's concern and care for the troops.
"Numerous times he asked if he could ride along in my (Humvee) in order to visit soldiers in different units," he writes. Blum considered it "a privilege to have served with (Millsap). ... He will not be forgotten."
In central Iraq, the soldiers in Millsap's unit took his death hard. For a short while, they did nothing but grieve.
As officers were informing Alyne and Deanna in Kansas, at least 20 soldiers closest to Millsap huddled together at Taji. They needed to share Millsap stories, says Capt. Eric Swenson of the 70th Engineers. Swenson and Millsap often drank coffee late into the night, talking about nothing at all. Swenson is grateful for those times.
"He meant something different to each soldier because he knew each soldier at a personal level. ... I never knew that he touched so many people the way he did."
For Millsap's memorial service in Iraq, hundreds of soldiers came from across the country. The memorial was videotaped, and the eulogies were sent back to Kansas so Alyne, Deanna and the rest of Millsap's family could read the sentiments.
The video began like this: Beneath the soldier's cross - where the soldier's weapon is thrust inside his boots, and his helmet and dog tags are placed over the top - a chaplain stationed at Taji tried to capture who Millsap was.
Of course, he began by telling a funny story.
Chaplain Raul Maria told the gathering how uncomfortable he was when he first deployed to Iraq; he was a new chaplain, and English was not his first language. But Millsap befriended him right away.
Just three weeks before Millsap's death, the chaplain said, he kissed Millsap's head, thanking him for something he'd done.
"He told me: 'Chappy, you kissed my dirty head?!'" Maria said, remembering the story. "...The other guys started laughing. We all were laughing."
On the video, laughter boomed inside the hall from soldiers with red-rimmed and puffy eyes.
Over and over, the mourners heard how Millsap could dole out "tough love" or caring counsel, and how he lightened many an ugly day with a wry comment.
"He was out there, out front, doing what good first sergeants do. He was checking soldiers and getting them what they needed," said Lt. Col. Anthony Wright of the 70th Engineers. "...We will honor him by trying every day to match his qualities, that sense of duty, integrity and love for his fellow soldiers. ... Rest in peace, Sapper, mission complete."
***
A few days ago, Alyne settled in front of the DVD player to watch her husband's Iraq memorial.
She couldn't watch it all the way through.
A big trunk filled with most of his things arrived a few weeks ago. She hasn't opened it, although Deanna confessed to her mom she has peeked inside.
Both mother and daughter are living their lives one moment, one day at a time. It's good to remember the past, they say. Not so good to imagine the future without him.
Remembering makes them laugh. So they tell one more story:
Tim's funeral arrangements brought an array of decisions. Although the Army offered a free vault, it seemed too drab to Alyne. The funeral home showed her a fancier one that cost $5,000. Two friends were with her, helping her with the decisions: Alvarez and Alyne's best girlfriend, Lori Parks from New York.
Both friends kept quiet until Alvarez could stand it no longer.
"Alyne," he said, "if you buy that ... Tim will kill you!"
Mother and daughter laugh as they retell that story. Yes, they say, that would have made Tim so annoyed. They didn't buy the vault.
Father's Day will be difficult, Alyne says with a sigh. More than anything now, she wants everyone to remember all soldiers.
"Don't forget their families who are waiting for them," she says.
Deanna, who inherited a hint of her dad's dimples, along with both her parents' humor, also inherited something else: She cares a lot for others.
On Father's Day, the 14-year-old knows exactly where she wants to be: with her dad's dad, Kenneth Millsap, in Wichita.
"It'll be a hard day for him," she says of her grandfather, with a maturity beyond her years.
Around her neck is a silver heart locket with two photos inside. One shows Deanna, about 7, kissing her daddy smack on the lips. The other shows her dad wearing his trademark grin, the one filled with mischief and accentuated with deep dimples.
Alyne knows celebrating Father's Day will be hard on them all, but she's determined to make it a day of celebrating his life.
"For the many years we've had him in our lives ... he shaped who we've become," she says. "We're the happy, sad people..."
And she smiles again, dabbing at a runaway tear.
"He wouldn't want us to be sad all the time."
*PING*
Canteen Ping!
Remembering txradioguy's friend.
RIP Hero!
*PING*
Need tissues . . .
Here...take a couple mine.
With tears flowing, I offer them my deepest condolences, and will keep them in my prayers for God's comfort and love. Rest in Peace American Hero!
txradioguy...My sympathies for the loss of your dear friend. My prayers are with you. We will never forget his sacrifice.
Thank you Ros42.
Wow! Thanks for the post. Prayers for him, his family and those who loved him. We are truly blessed to have a man like this guard our freedom.
We can always count on your to post the best articles about our guys, tx.
Thanks.
Plenty of Big Red 1 angels upstairs to welcome him Home. He's in very good company now.
What a wonderful tribute to your wonderful friend!
May 1SG Tim Millsap rest in God's peace.
Prayers and condolences continue for txradioguy, and 1SG Millsap's many other friends -- plus his wife, daughter, and family.
Continued prayers for his family and friends.
Thank you both for your service to your country. We will not forget.
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glint on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle Autumn rain.
When you wake in the morning hush,
I am the swift, uplifting rush, of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft starlight at night.
Do not stand at my grave and weep, I am not there, I do not sleep.
Mary Frye (1932)
BTTT!!!!!!
My heart aches for each one lost. It now aches for Tim and yourself!
Remembering your friend and his family in prayer.
He is a hero.
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