Posted on 09/27/2008 9:27:30 PM PDT by Tennessee Nana
FORT CAMPBELL, Ky. — It’s a few minutes before 5 a.m. The sun isn’t up yet, but Chris Weir is.
A few years ago, the Cleveland, Tenn., native might still have been in bed at this hour. He might have been dreaming about his chances of winning the Bradley County mayoral race before getting up and putting on the suit and tie that had become his uniform in the business world.
But today the 28-year-old already is dressed, and he’s wearing a different kind of uniform.
It’s the same kind his little brother died in.
Though the fabric is fairly light, designed for military wear in the desert, it weighs heavily on his shoulders. It reminds him that he gave up a good job as chief financial officer of a marketing company to join the lowest rank in the U.S. Army.
He traded a three-bedroom house in Cleveland for a two-bedroom duplex apartment — one that’s three hours away from his hometown and barely big enough for him and his wife, their two young girls and a newly adopted kitten.
In a pickup truck cruising down U.S. Highway 41, Pfc. Weir watches strip malls and pawn shops appear in and out of the beams of his headlights. He tries to muster up the energy he’ll need to make it through a torturous physical training session in about an hour and a half.
He starts to sigh, but as he pulls into the security checkpoint leading into one of the biggest military installations in the nation — the one that once was home to his brother, Sgt. David Weir — he instead breaks into a huge, warm smile.
He’s fated to be here. He’s going to finish what David started.
Spark in their son
Jackie and Lynn Weir always knew their son David, the second eldest of their four boys, would join the Army.
But their oldest son? The Weirs thought their 33-year-old daughter Missie would enlist before he would.
All that changed when 23-year-old David was shot to death in Baghdad on Sept. 14, 2006, just a few weeks before the end of his 15-month tour.
Mrs. Weir noticed the spark in her son after the family visited the funeral home for the first time to see their beloved David resting in a casket.
“He said, ‘I just felt like (David) was saying, “OK, I’ve done my part. Now it’s your time.” And from that, I guess he just began to think.”
Though Pfc. Weir didn’t know it would lead to enlisting in the Army, he remembers the big brother instinct in him kicking in.
As he looked at his brother’s hands in the casket — focusing on fingers that at one time could grip a rifle and the laces of a football with equal dexterity — it felt like his brother was passing the ball off to him for the next play.
“Something else was going on,” Pfc. Weir said. “I didn’t know what.”
It was something that hit Pfc. Weir much harder than any of the other four Weir boys, recalled the youngest, 23-year-old Tim Weir.
“As a brother, we’ve always had each other’s backs,” Tim said. “There’s something there that wasn’t there before. The day David died, I saw something different in Chris.”
Pfc. Weir says the desire to join the military had been building in him since childhood, because his father had served.
“David wasn’t the reason that I joined,” he said. “The reason that anybody wants to join the Army has to be (more) deeper-rooted than one event ... I guess David dying was finally the kick in the butt I needed to get up and do this.”
patriotism like this hard to come by
Sgt. 1st Class Michael McQuade was David’s platoon sergeant in Iraq and is a close friend of Pfc. Weir’s at Fort Campbell. He never really tried to talk him out of enlisting, but he remembers trying to make sure he understood exactly what he was getting into.
“I know he’s doing it not just to get a feel for what David has done,” Sgt. 1st Class McQuade said. “I think it’s a sense of extreme patriotism. And that’s hard to come by.”
Pfc. Weir began basic training in July 2007 before he was randomly — perhaps fatefully — assigned to his brother’s old unit — 1st Squadron, 61st Cavalry Regiment, 4th Brigade Combat Team, 101st Airborne Division — on his brother’s old military post.
Pfc. Weir has certainly developed a strong resolve, and a stronger physique to go along with it.
Though he hadn’t had much athletic training since Little League baseball, he committed himself to basic training, slimming down as he built up enough endurance to run several miles and complete scores of pushups.
That’s something his former co-worker, Rich Dinsmore of Cleveland, would expect from him.
Mr. Dinsmore was chief executive officer of the Cleveland-based marketing company Pros From Dover where Pfc. Weir served as chief financial officer. Though Pfc. Weir could easily have stayed home as a successful businessman, Mr. Dinsmore said, his stubborn sense of commitment wouldn’t have let him.
“When he decided to go into the Army, that was it,” Mr. Dinsmore said. “If he decides he’s going to do something, he does it.”
The dread
Pfc. Weir’s mother remembers the heavy feeling she felt when she last saw David, and the breathless, dizzying moment when the soldiers found her at work to tell her he had died.
So when Pfc. Weir came to her with the news that he was enlisting, Mrs. Weir didn’t take it well.
She had thought he would make his mark on a political stump near home — not in a war zone halfway across the world.
“My heart sunk,” she said. “I just keep thinking, ‘Lord, don’t do this to me twice. I just don’t know if I could stand to lose another one.’ ”
But she didn’t try to discourage him and doesn’t harbor any bitterness.
Not continuing to help fight for America’s freedoms would be “almost like turning our backs on David,” she explained.
That’s one thing she and Pfc. Weir agree on.
“Because my brother sacrificed his life doesn’t relieve me of my responsibility,” Pfc. Weir said. “That just means he fulfilled his responsibility in an extremely brave way.”
Mrs. Weir asked her son if he was truly sure of what he wanted to do.
When he answered “yes,” she put a photograph of a uniformed Pfc. Weir in a red, white and blue frame and displayed it in the living room, right next to the decorated candle from David’s memorial service.
She is one of many mothers across the country who have made sacrifices, according to national Army spokeswoman Lt. Col. Anne Edgecomb.
Though the military doesn’t track sibling relationships in the service, anecdotal observations have shown that husbands and wives, fathers and daughters and brothers and sisters have been inspired enough to enlist after suffering the loss of a loved one during war.
“He’s certainly not the first, and I’m sure he’s not going to be the last,” she said of Pfc. Weir’s enlistment.
Pfc. Weir’s wife, Candace, is trying to be strong for the couple’s two girls, 5-year-old Kylee and 3-year-old Ashlyn.
“When he first told me, I was like, ‘There’s no way I’ll let you do it,’ ” she recalled. “But I’m very proud of what he’s doing. It’s very selfless of him.”
The younger Mrs. Weir, 25, laughs when her once plump, teddy bear of a husband tries to claim he’s not nervous about deploying.
“He’s nervous,” she confirms.
“Anxious,” he retorts from across the room. As if there’s a huge difference.
“Nervous,” she says again, this time with the firm authority of a wife’s last word on the matter.
Pushing Onward
The thing that keeps Pfc. Weir’s family sane is the knowledge that he won’t be a scout like his brother had been. Instead, he’ll be busy coordinating supplies, from machine guns to toilet paper, for the guys on the front lines.
That, and the fact that he has actually turned out to be a pretty good soldier.
Pfc. Weir’s unit commander, Capt. David Best, believes David’s death probably helped push Pfc. Weir in that regard.
“He’s mature, intelligent and gets the job done. He’s already driven,” Capt. Best said. “But when his brother was killed, that made him want to do even better.”
Pfc. Weir agrees. He pushes himself through even the simplest two-mile run by looking down at the metal bracelet he wears engraved with David’s name and date of death. He says he feels the closest to his brother when he is the closest to giving up.
“When I’m at my lowest, that’s where I feel David,” he said. “That’s where I know he’s there kind of grabbing me and saying, ‘Get up, wimp. Let’s go. Come on.’
“I know what I’m doing and exactly why I’m doing it,” he explained. “I’m not doing it for college money. I’m not doing it for the benefits. I’m certainly not doing it for the pay. I have a very focused resolve. He’s given me so much focus, and he’s given me that purpose and that dedication that I think is extremely important, especially facing a deployment.”
When Pfc. Weir looks at the tree David’s unit planted for him, and the stone monument they raised the money to build for him at Fort Campbell, he realizes the size of the shoes he’s got to fill.
He’ll keep the Chris Weir in him, though.
For one, he’ll make sure to update his MySpace page regularly while he’s in Iraq.
After all, he’ll be trying to promote himself for the 2010 race for mayor of Bradley County. He’ll be able to officially start campaigning to that effect when he gets out of the military on Feb. 20 of that year.
Coming back from Iraq is a certainty, by the way. Not a question.
David’s got his back.
We are proud of him in Cleveland, TN...
Tennessee PING
Thanks for the ping, Nana.
We are proud of him in Cleveland, TN...
I don't know him, but ...... we're proud of him in Idaho, too.
His wife found a new man. It’s quite a transformation yet he prepared himself for it all along. God Speed Chris Weir
Fantastic story — and I know there are many others like it that we seldom hear about.
Thanks for sharing.
Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.