“Mom I'm not afraid to die for something that is right….”

Background information and commentary by Andrew Carroll: In honor of Veterans Day (November 11)m I wanted to feature a letter that reveals the profound sense of honor that is manifested in so many letters—and now e-mails—written from the front lines, regardless of the conflict. The following letter is by Josh Harapko, a twenty-three-year-old sergeant with the 10 th Mountain Division, and it was published for the first time in its entirety in BEHIND THE LINES. What attracted me to the letter was not just the sentiments that Josh expressed, but the story behind the letter. Josh's mother, Pat Moran, told me that her son hated writing letters home and rarely revealed his emotions. And, she emphasized, Josh was a bit of a troublemaker before he joined the U.S. Army. But Josh matured during his service and went on to become a first-rate soldier. Before advancing into “Operation Anaconda,”one of the worst firefights of the Afghanistan campaign, Josh neatly handwrote the following letter to his mother. (Peg, mentioned in the letter, was a very close family friend who had died of cancer; Sean is his brother and Heidi is his sister. She, too, is in the military and would go off to serve in Iraq two years after this letter was written in early March 2002.)

Dear Mom,

I'm writing this letter before I leave. I couldn't say what I wanted to over the phone. First I want to say I love you so much. You were always there for me even though I would never talk about my problems.... No matter what you always believed in me, no matter how much of a punk I was to you. We are leaving for Bahgram to flush out 600 Taliban soldiers from the mountains. This is the biggest battle of the war on terrorism. We already sustained 30 casualties and one KIA. I never thought war was fun. It's hard to see all the guys who were shot or wounded and to know your going right back in there. I thought you should know where I am.

I don't want you to worry about me. (I know you will cause I'm your son). Mom I'm not afraid to die for something that is right. I'm more scared of being wounded like most of these guys and not being able to walk again. I just hope that I made you proud, and if I don't come home for any reason I just want you to know I'll always be with you. Really you shouldn't worry though. My guardian angel (Peg) is with me. I didn't get ahold of Sean, but please tell him I love him. I remember when I used to tell him to stop acting like my Dad. Well tell him I really respect him for that. I wish I could have told him myself. I wish we could have hung out together more and I regret not being able to.

....I haven't been able to contact Heidi so please tell her I love her so much. I'm so proud of her. I want her to know that. I wish I wasn't such a brat when she was around. These are just some things I needed to justify before we move out....

Well Mom I have to go now, all that I have said here are words from my heart and I mean every last one of them. Tell Aunt Joyce I said hi and I love her. I hope to see you soon but if that doesn't work out I just needed you to know how I felt. I Love you and Miss you. Take care your always in my thoughts.

Your Loving Son Josh.

Harapko survived “Operation Anaconda” and returned to the States alive and well. In a terrible irony, however, he and ten other soldiers died one year later (March 11, 2003) when the UH-60 Black Hawk helicopter they were flying in during a training mission crashed outside of Fort Drum, New York. Several weeks after Josh's death, his family received the following letter from one of his close buddies, Sgt. Dustin Leek. I found the message especially moving because, despite the stoic demeanor that so many troops display in public, no individuals write with greater emotion about the sacrifices made by those who serve in the military than their comrades in arms. Dustin's letter is published here for the first time.

April 5, 2003

To the Family of Josh Harapko:

I write this letter with a heavy heart, but with a duty to explain the impact that Josh had on me while we were assigned to A Company, 1-36 INF. I was a sergeant in second platoon when I first met Josh. He was assigned to the first platoon dismounted squad and was under the supervision of Staff Sergeant Bean. Josh's first impression on me was one that a typical Private might make on any Non Commissioned Officer. He was shy and unsure of his place in a group of men that would be his new family for the next two years.

The unique thing about the Infantry is that we all look after each other. We develop a brotherly bond that lasts forever because we know that someday soon we may have to defend each others' lives in frontline combat. The bond is developed through long rain soaked nights sleeping in the mud with nothing to keep us warm but the talk of home and brighter days ahead. It is strengthened through training and friendships that reveal the deepest of personal secrets. It is tested time after time and never broken.

The bond that Josh and I developed was stronger than the bond that I have with my wife. This statement may sound harsh to those that have never asked another to put his life in your hands as you place yours in his, but I assure you that it is real and permanent. We used to play this game together while trying to pass the time during training or guard duty. It was a great game because it required nothing but our minds. Josh would start by quoting some line from a rap song and then I would try to translate it into something a pompous upper-class citizen would say. We also used to play a strange game called “I'd rather”, this involved one of us describing two equally disgusting scenarios and the other would have to say which one he would rather do. This game lasted the entire time I was in Germany….

On March 11, 2003, I lost a brother. A brother that I promised to protect with my life and who promised to do the same for me. He was a great soldier and an even more valuable friend. If you ever need anything or just want to talk about Josh, please feel free to call.

Sincerely

SGT. Dustin Leek

----------

NEXT WEEK: In partnership with the Smithsonian's National Postal Museum, the Legacy Project is launching a new, year-long exhibit titled “War Letters: Lost & Found.” This exhibit opens on Friday November 11 th and will display original letters from the Legacy Project's collection that were lost or discarded by the recipients. Years and even decades later they were found by total strangers, who then contributed them to the Legacy Project. (A dramatic Korean War letter, for example, was found in a bank's wastebasket and salvaged by a clerk, who was himself a Korean War veteran. A bundle of Civil War letters was found in an old attic by the new owner's of the house.) Next week LINES OF FIRE will feature a transcript of one of the most extraordinary and historic letters from this exhibit, as well as the incredible story behind it.

For more information about the Legacy Project's efforts to preserve American wartime letters and e-mails, please visit: www.WarLetters.com .