Officers help families deal with deaths

CHARLESTON, W.Va. -- It was 29 years ago but Col. Terry Melton remembers it like it was yesterday. He had to tell a woman her National Guard husband was dead -- his first assignment as a next-of-kin notifier.

"You never forget it," Melton said.

Without a major military base in the state, notification of families falls to the West Virginia National Guard when a soldier, sailor or airman is killed or missing. Melton, the Army National Guard's deputy chief of staff for personnel, oversees about 50 next-of-kin notifiers and casualty assistance officers.

"We need to be prepared because we owe it to the soldiers and to the soldiers' families," he said.

But even with training, there is little that can ready officers for the moment they knock on a door and have to tell a soldier's wife she is a widow.

"You never know what to expect," said Maj. Bill Crane. "It can range anywhere from total despair to total disbelief. You have to be prepared for that and do the best you can."

Crane's first notification came last Sunday, when he had to make a late-night visit to Greg and Deadra Lynch, the parents of Pfc. Jessica Lynch of Palestine, a 19-year-old Army supply clerk missing in Iraq.

"I hope it's the last time," Crane said, his lip quivering. "It was very difficult."

Lynch, part of the Army's 507th Maintenance Company, hasn't been seen since her convoy was attacked in Iraq. The Department of Defense says two members of the group are dead, five are prisoners of war and eight others, including Jessica, are missing.

Days later, even questions about the experience leave Crane fighting to control his emotions.

"You have to stay focused on what the mission is. That's the assignment that you have and you deal with it the best you can," he said.

"It's hard. It's emotional for me," said Chief Petty Officer Glen Gaynor, a Navy casualty assistance call officer in Norfolk, Va. "You go through it. ... You try to stay on the outside, but you can't. You cry. You become part of it."

Gaynor has twice notified families of deaths, including that of a sailor killed in the terrorist bombing of the Norfolk-based destroyer USS Cole in October 2000.

Army and Air Force guidelines call for two people -- the notifier and a casualty assistance officer -- to work with the family.

The assistance officer is the problem solver, helping the family with funeral arrangements, paperwork to obtain death benefits, getting copies of death investigation reports and whatever else is needed.

The Navy and Marines use one person for both jobs.

Marine Maj. Kurt Mogensen sometimes spends hours at a home when he makes a notification visit. Other times, he isn't invited in.

"If they don't want you there at that time, then that's a type of support," said Mogensen, stationed at Buckley Air Force Base in Colorado. "You have to respect the wishes of family members."

Navy Lt. Asha Fotos handled her only notification so far last year, right after she went through training.

"It's an unpleasant task, yes, but at the same time it's one that has to happen," Fotos said in Norfolk. "If I can be there to support a family in a time of need, I'm going to be there."

A chaplain always accompanies the Navy assistance officer during the initial visit.

"For many (families), they're looking for spiritual solace and comfort," said Navy Mid-Atlantic regional chaplain Capt. Bill Weimer. "I would not force religion or even prayer on the family. But military people as a whole ... seem to appreciate having their chaplain or a chaplain be there."

Until 1955, military families were notified of deaths by telegram, said Lottie Hayes, coordinator of the Navy Mid-Atlantic Region assistance officer program.

"Then what? There's nobody there to help you," Hayes said.

But however the message is delivered, nothing can limit the impact.

The officers who make the visit in West Virginia wear full-dress uniform and take a chaplain, minister or local law enforcement representative with them.

"When the uniform person starts walking up to house, especially if you have a chaplain with you or a state trooper or a county sheriff, they know it's not good news," Melton said.

Once, though, Gaynor got to be the bearer of good news. When the Cole was bombed, the Navy sent officers to notify the families of injured sailors as well as the 17 who were killed.

Gaynor went to tell a woman that her husband had only a broken jaw, but when she saw him through the window she screamed and refused to open the door.

"I'm on the other side of the door screaming, he's OK, he's OK," Gaynor recalled.

That's when the woman opened the door and gave Gaynor a big hug.