Remembering SPC Philip Schiller

"From this day to the ending of the world we in it shall be remembered. We lucky few, we band of brothers. For he who today sheds his blood with me shall be my brother."
                            -Band of Brothers

It was one year ago today--April 11, 2012 that Specialist Philip Schiller was killed in Afghanistan. I remember everything about that day. The weather. What I had for breakfast. I remember the sights and the smells. I remember the taste of the tears and the embrace of my brothers in arms as we grieved that evening.

Most of us never had the chance to properly grieve his loss. There was a mission to be completed. We had to continue as if nothing had happened. Failure to continue the mission would mean that Schiller had died in vain. This is an important lesson that we had to learn...not 10 days into our already emotional deployment.

So just a couple hours after the battle we returned to regularly scheduled guard shifts. I didn't sleep at all that night. How could I? I'm not sure anyone did. I had lost people close to me before. But the bond of the brotherhood between the young guys in my platoon and the hellish environment so far from home made this loss the hardest one I had ever faced. I stayed up all night thinking about Schiller. I tried to remember the wonderful 8 months that I was fortunate to know him. No matter how hard I tried though my mind kept creeping back to the events of that afternoon.

I have not really discussed what happened that day with anyone that was not there. I've mentioned bits and pieces of it or mentioned Schiller and his impact on me personally with some people, but it just never seems to have helped to lift the burden of guilt that I feel. When the firefight began I was part of the "quick reaction force" designed to respond in case our guys took heavy fire. When they did we rolled in at a high rate of speed, showing off the full capabilities of our Stryker vehicles.

The whole thing happened so fast. I remember rolling down the road standing out the back hatch of my Stryker. I could see the firefight happening up ahead. We were driving into the crossfire of hell to protect our brothers. As I loaded the machine gun mounted on the back of the truck there was just one thought going through my mind over and over again...don't stop firing. I knew that my job was to put enough rounds out there to allow the safe evacuation of the injured from the battlefield. I could not fail them now. They needed me.

I fired about 500 rounds at the enemy in the span of just a couple minutes. After laying down a blanket of bullets we were able to load the wounded and get out of there. I can say that my efforts helped to safely evacuate the tired and wounded. For that I am thankful. However the loss of Schiller to the lead of an enemy rifle still weighs on my heart. I knew he was gone but I did not want to believe it. Of all the guys in our platoon, he was the one that was the most liked.

There is a saying in the military that you "respect the rank, not the person." I will honestly tell you that our military has it's fair share of people with ranks that well exceed their ethical standard or personal integrity. With any organization the size of this one, there are bound to be some people that abuse their position. Schiller was not one of them.

The respect our men held for him well exceeded his modest rank. He was not always the smartest guy but nobody studied as hard as he did to be the very best at his craft. When I arrived from basic training, already one of the older privates in the unit, it was the 20 year old kid from Connecticut that made me feel like a valued part of the team. He was always teaching the new guys. He was an excellent teacher. Now that I am in a leadership position I often look back to the way Schiller helped me when I was the new guy. He explained everything using practical situations and hands on methods. He didn't have a high rank on his chest but he did more to deserve my respect than many of those that did.

His heart was gold. Every single morning he showed up to work ready to challenge the day's tasks. When you arrive at work at 5:30 in the morning and the first thing you see is a kid drinking water out of an empty coke bottle and smiling with that goofy grin, you cannot help but be affected by it. Nobody should be that lively at that time of the day! His attitude was contagious. He rarely complained and he never quit.

I get asked sometimes why I always have so much energy when I arrive at work after waking up at 4am. I don't really have a good answer to it. I would like to think that maybe a little part of Schiller has rubbed off on me. In fact, I hope a lot has.


Just a couple nights before we deployed I had ordered pizza and was eating alone while watching a movie. Schiller stopped by my barracks room to steal some laundry detergent. I offered him a slice of pizza. His laundry never got done. We spent the evening discussing the family and friends we were leaving behind and how we would face challenges unlike anything we've ever seen before.

The movie was Restrepo, a documentary from National Geographic that follows a platoon through their deployment to Afghanistan. Early in their tour they lose one of their soldiers. The movie reflects on their attitudes and frames of mind after losing one of their own and how they spent the remainder of the tour honoring their fallen brother and fighting in his honor.

Sound familiar?

I cherish that evening with him and since the day he died I think that conversation over pizza has stuck in my mind as a poignant reminder why FAITH, FAMILY, FRIENDS are at the forefront of everything I do in life. I was truly blessed to have such a great friend, even for such a short period of time. Though he has passed from this earth, I am warmed by the blessings bestowed on me by our friendship.



Until next time...

Chris