This article was written by Donald Sparks, a retired U.S. Army Sergeant Major.
Memorial Day, for those veterans who deployed and survived deployments in harm’s way to defend our nation, is a time to reflect on the agony, pain, and legacy of their fellow veterans who paid the ultimate sacrifice. The deaths of those men and women are forever etched in our memories because we knew them personally.
We dined, laughed, played, and prayed with them. We shared stories about our past lives before joining the military. We bragged about our hometowns – for me, it was all things “H-Town.” Don’t let me bring up sports, because debates over the best NFL team, NBA player, or which boxer had the best pugilistic skills are always heated.
The camaraderie we shared was the bond that connected us – especially in combat. Prior to my deployment in 2005 to Iraq in support of Operation Desert Shield III, the only grief I’ve ever felt was the loss of my grandfather in 2002. The tears I shed at his funeral were the first time I felt the sting of death.
Less than three years later, I would deploy to Iraq. I was just one of thousands of our country’s sons and daughters, husbands and wives, fathers and mothers to put boots on the ground in a foreign land.
We came from small rural towns and large urban cities. We were Black, white, yellow, and red. We spoke different languages, worshipped different Gods – yet we were brothers and sisters in arms. During my year in Iraq, my unit lost 43 men, mostly combat-related.
The first was Pvt. Joseph Knott, who died in my arms on April 17, 2005, after our vehicle was blasted by an improvised explosive device. He joined our Army during a time of war, knowing full well he’d be deployed to fight for Her…and he sacrificed his life to defend our nation.
I still feel the embrace of his mother, Pamela Knott, who gave me a hug after telling her the tragic events of that fateful day. I still remember crying in her arms because of the survivor’s guilt for living while her son was dead – a struggle that I dealt with for nearly two decades.
As a retired combat journalist, I still have the images of every memorial service I covered during that Iraq deployment – including a silhouette of Knott I took two days before his death.
I captured the faces of grown men and women crying, the faces of young soldiers; some in their teens, hardened by the indiscriminacy of death.
For the past 21 years, I’ve kept a piece of shrapnel in a half-empty / half-full cup to remind me of the fragility of life on the battlefield. Each Memorial Day, I asked the same question, “Why, God, have you spared me?” I still don’t know the true answer, yet each last Monday in May, I look at that piece of shrapnel as a reminder to no longer feel guilty for surviving death.
Do I choose to live this life half empty and in a state of despair and pity, or do I choose to live this life half full, embracing the power of love, forgiveness, and spiritual uplifting so I can be a vessel for others?
On this solemn holiday, we must all remember, name-by-name, those who fell in battle – for they fought, they bled, and they died. And for those who have survived those horrors, we must no longer carry the guilt of being alive – but live our lives gloriously for those who paid that ultimate sacrifice.
Editor’s Note: Donald Sparks is a retired U.S. Army Sergeant Major, who has accomplished many awards in journalism and photojournalism during his time in service as a Public Affairs senior enlisted leader. His military awards include the Legion of Merit, Bronze Star, Purple Heart, Defense Meritorious Service Medal, Army Meritorious Service Medal, and he earned an Army Commendation Medal with Valor Device for his actions in Iraq. He is a graduate of Evan E. Worthing High School (Class of 1986), University of Texas at El Paso (2013), where he earned a master’s degree in leadership studies and University of San Francisco (2024), where he earned a master’s degree in public leadership.