Jason J Crawford
04-16-2004, 12:37 AM
Today is the anniversary of my friend's death. I wanted to bring this back to the top in his honor.
I'm sure not one of you knew Jerry. I'm also sure you've heard about his Death. When I was a young, scared Private in the 82nd Military Police Company I was assigned to SGT Zovko's platoon. Through the usual "Hey cherry, where ya from" banter "Z", as we called him, and I discovered that we went to rival high schools.
We immediately became friends. He lived next to me in the barracks, and was a role model to me while I was learning the ropes. One day Z hurt his ankle while were were out back playing basketball. It was really swollen, but he refused to go to sick call and make someone else pick up his slack the next day. The next morning our Platoon Sergeant ordered him to go to sick call and still Z refused. Eventually Jerry and our Plt SGT came to blows over it and Jerry lost his stripes.
As you may conclude from the name, Jerry's family was from Bosnia. When President Clinton asked for voluenteers for the mission in Bosnia, Jerry was first in line. He was actually one of our first troops over there. The Army made Jerry change his last name to Riley when he deployed so he wasn't singled out by enemy soldiers or civilians. He gladly went though, to defend his people. I met up with him a few months later when the rest of our platoon was deployed to the area. We had some great times over there, and some scarey times too. Jerry got his stripes back while were there.
Jerry was always a light hearted guy. One boring Saturday afternoon Jerry was the patrol supervisor. While on patrol he called the 82nd Airborne Division Commander and asked him for the count. "What count?" the General said. "The squirrel count in the officer's housing area." Jerry replied. I believe that was the last day Jerry ever worked garrison duty as an MP smile.gif
On another day Jerry was addigned to be Staff Duty NCO. He was notorious for leaving the CQ desk and going up to his room. To remedy this our CO chained and shackled him to the desk and told Jerry he better be there in the morning. When the CO returned in the morning Jerry was still there, but he had disassembled the desk with his leatherman and stacked the pieces up in the hall way.
One day Z came to my door. I say day, but it was actually about 3am on a Saturday morning. "Pack your ****" he says "We're going to the beach". So I grab what I can and load up into his VW Bus. We got there at around 5am and slept on the beach. Got up, ate breakfast and drank all day long. Z's favorite drink was called a Ranger File. Probably because he was in fact a Ranger. 5 shots, one right after the other. Jack, Jim, Youkon Jack, and 2 others I can't remember at the moment. After we sobered up the next day we headed back to Ft Bragg. As soon as we got on I95 the freekin side door to his Bus fell off! We rigged it up with bungie cords, zip ties and duct tape and it made it home.
Apparently he didn't change much since the last time I saw him. The local paper said he built a makeshift swimming pool on top of his barracks in Iraq. He even bought an Iraqi motorcycle with a side car to motor around in while he was there.
I know from these stories you may think he was a slacker. I assure you he was not. If it were not for him I'm sure I may not have made it home on a few occasions. I choose to remember him as a light hearted jack-ass and as one of the people I really respected in the Army. I see a lot of him in me and how I lead my troops when I became a Sergeant. I see a lot of him in me today as a Sheriff's Deputy.
You're probably all wondering who this guy is. Well, again a voluenteer, Z ended up in Iraq as a civilian contractor. On Wednesday, 31 March, he and 3 of his counterparts were ambushed with rocket propelled grenades. Mobs later dragged his body through the streets and hung him from a bridge.
The last time I saw Z he was packing up his stuff as he was getting out of the Army. He came to my room and gave me a Cleveland Indians flag that he had always displayed proudly and told me to keep up the faith. I wish I could have known then what an effect he had had on my life. I would have told him thank you.
Saturday I think I'll head up to the National Cemetary where he's buried and return his flag.
Keep your feet and knees together brother!
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I'm sure not one of you knew Jerry. I'm also sure you've heard about his Death. When I was a young, scared Private in the 82nd Military Police Company I was assigned to SGT Zovko's platoon. Through the usual "Hey cherry, where ya from" banter "Z", as we called him, and I discovered that we went to rival high schools.
We immediately became friends. He lived next to me in the barracks, and was a role model to me while I was learning the ropes. One day Z hurt his ankle while were were out back playing basketball. It was really swollen, but he refused to go to sick call and make someone else pick up his slack the next day. The next morning our Platoon Sergeant ordered him to go to sick call and still Z refused. Eventually Jerry and our Plt SGT came to blows over it and Jerry lost his stripes.
As you may conclude from the name, Jerry's family was from Bosnia. When President Clinton asked for voluenteers for the mission in Bosnia, Jerry was first in line. He was actually one of our first troops over there. The Army made Jerry change his last name to Riley when he deployed so he wasn't singled out by enemy soldiers or civilians. He gladly went though, to defend his people. I met up with him a few months later when the rest of our platoon was deployed to the area. We had some great times over there, and some scarey times too. Jerry got his stripes back while were there.
Jerry was always a light hearted guy. One boring Saturday afternoon Jerry was the patrol supervisor. While on patrol he called the 82nd Airborne Division Commander and asked him for the count. "What count?" the General said. "The squirrel count in the officer's housing area." Jerry replied. I believe that was the last day Jerry ever worked garrison duty as an MP smile.gif
On another day Jerry was addigned to be Staff Duty NCO. He was notorious for leaving the CQ desk and going up to his room. To remedy this our CO chained and shackled him to the desk and told Jerry he better be there in the morning. When the CO returned in the morning Jerry was still there, but he had disassembled the desk with his leatherman and stacked the pieces up in the hall way.
One day Z came to my door. I say day, but it was actually about 3am on a Saturday morning. "Pack your ****" he says "We're going to the beach". So I grab what I can and load up into his VW Bus. We got there at around 5am and slept on the beach. Got up, ate breakfast and drank all day long. Z's favorite drink was called a Ranger File. Probably because he was in fact a Ranger. 5 shots, one right after the other. Jack, Jim, Youkon Jack, and 2 others I can't remember at the moment. After we sobered up the next day we headed back to Ft Bragg. As soon as we got on I95 the freekin side door to his Bus fell off! We rigged it up with bungie cords, zip ties and duct tape and it made it home.
Apparently he didn't change much since the last time I saw him. The local paper said he built a makeshift swimming pool on top of his barracks in Iraq. He even bought an Iraqi motorcycle with a side car to motor around in while he was there.
I know from these stories you may think he was a slacker. I assure you he was not. If it were not for him I'm sure I may not have made it home on a few occasions. I choose to remember him as a light hearted jack-ass and as one of the people I really respected in the Army. I see a lot of him in me and how I lead my troops when I became a Sergeant. I see a lot of him in me today as a Sheriff's Deputy.
You're probably all wondering who this guy is. Well, again a voluenteer, Z ended up in Iraq as a civilian contractor. On Wednesday, 31 March, he and 3 of his counterparts were ambushed with rocket propelled grenades. Mobs later dragged his body through the streets and hung him from a bridge.
The last time I saw Z he was packing up his stuff as he was getting out of the Army. He came to my room and gave me a Cleveland Indians flag that he had always displayed proudly and told me to keep up the faith. I wish I could have known then what an effect he had had on my life. I would have told him thank you.
Saturday I think I'll head up to the National Cemetary where he's buried and return his flag.
Keep your feet and knees together brother!
<center> http://www.fototime.com/%7B871C97C6-A84F-46E8-A7EB-D9BD86EDBDF7%7D/picture.JPG
<left>