Feb 28, 2002
If my son Kris were here with us today, he would not understand all the fuss being made over him. He would be amused and bewildered that so much attention was being made about his life and death. He would understand and respect our need to pause and pay tribute to fallen Rangers; however, he would not define his death as a sacrifice for his country. It was just ‘another day’ for him; to do the best job he could and protect his fellow Rangers to the best of his ability.
Kris’s buddies have told me he was where he wanted to be, doing what he wanted to do. Long before Kris became a Ranger, he wrote in his journal ‘People take questions like “What is worth doing?” Far too superficially.’ On another occasion he wrote to his aunt disagreeing with her statement “one’s death has little to do with how one should live.” Kris countered with the argument, “If it is worth doing with only two weeks to live then it’s probably worth doing the rest of your life. One needs to find something worth doing in the face of death, which is not easily done.”
Friends have written to me saying he died for his country. This may be true, but I believe that Kris died for what he valued most, Friendship and Truth.
Kris wrote in his journal:” Love of friends, that is the noble love.” On Truth he wrote: ”I want to be happy in truth or miserable in truth. But either way I want the truth, the phenomena that comes with it, is beside the point. Truth no matter how beautiful or how ugly.”
After the terrible events of September 11th came crashing down on America, I numbly went to work that evening. There was an uneasy quiet everywhere. The parking lot was practical empty and the American flag at half-staff. My boss knew that both my sons were in the Army and inquired about them. I felt an immense pride when I responded about their service in the military. I said that my youngest son was a Ranger and would probably be one of the first to ‘go in.’ I naively did not think it possible that he could be killed.
It was not a smooth journey that took Kris from his struggles in life to his death in a foreign land. He was a little older when he finally enlisted in the Army. For ten years in my letters to friends, I would report on Kris’s return to some type of university philosophy study. This was just one of those things he did every now and then, probably to tease us into thinking he was joining the establishment. He and I had a standing joke that our favorite Star Trek characters the “Borg” were just imitating Kris’ reluctance to join society. “You will be assimilated, it is futile to resist.” What a giggle that line of dialogue would produce from both of us, as he strove to find his purpose in life.
Kris’s private educational journey took him to the Tom Brown, JR Tracker School in NJ where he met members of the “Special Forces” who were attending just for fun. Tom was also affected directly by the September 11 tragic events. His brother in law was the co-pilot of the second plane to strike the World Trade Towers.
Kris read all of Tom’s books and took many of the scout classes, which were weeklong intensive training in everything related to living off the land with just your knowledge and the ability to create your own tools. He learned to make fire several different ways, build protection from the elements using existing materials and to forage for food. Kris put these skills to the test on numerous treks into the Montana wilderness. Kris toyed with the idea of going into the backcountry with just a knife and living for several years. I thought that I might not see him again if he disappeared into the wilderness, so I made him promise to call me each year on his birthday. Somehow he would have figured out how to do that.
Just before he join the ultimate establishment, the Army, he wrote in his journal: “Often times I’ll look at the bookshelves looking for some book that isn’t there, some book that has the next step. I’m sure my sub-conscience is telling me something, what I don’t know. Somehow I feel now I must swirl my past with my present, and good ideas and thoughts, good influences. I have a direction. I understand at least at this point my life, isn’t to live fully primitive in the woods. I must live in both worlds. I can do that happily there are good things in society and good things to learn, enlightenment will be to straddle both worlds.
Kris came into his own by becoming a Ranger. Thanks in part to a zany group of friends who took him into their own intensive weekend training program. Kris enjoyed these specialized ops with the guys. Of course Kris shared with his friends some much-needed skills from his own manual like: free beer maneuvers, hot tub invasions, and the great dolly launch. What was not to like about this guy who would amuse himself and his passengers by his absurd challenge to drag race the muscle cars at a stop light in his four door Saturn?
Kris was a shy and unassuming person with a smile that would light up the room, dimples that would melt a girl’s heart, and a twinkle in his eye that always gave way to one of the brightest giggles. He listened more than he spoke and enjoyed verbal debate. It did not matter which side he took. When you finally saw merit in his arguments, he would laugh and say that your opinions were right all along. You never heard him complain about anything including the MRE meals. That must stem from eating a lot of pine bark soup in the wilderness.
He was proud to be a Ranger. I asked him if he wanted me to write letter to the ‘powers that be’ over the Black Beret controversy. He said he did not care what color he wore on his head. He knew that he was a Ranger and that did not depend on any particular color. He just wanted the rest of the Army to wear it correctly!
My lifetime experience has been especially blessed by two gifts, my sons. I was lucky; my mission in life was handed to me with each child I bore. I signed a ‘mother’s contract’ at each son’s birth, it even had a clause that I was permitted to worry about them. Kris’s goal to become a Ranger was awesome to behold and really scary for a mother to accept; however, my contract also had a ‘support their decision’ clause.
Most of you have that same contract with your mothers. That is why you are here defending the Freedom that American cherishes even more after September 11th. I have to agree with Lieutenant Colonel Banach when he described the Ranger establishment to me as a National Treasure. After meeting the Rangers Kris called his friends, I have come to the conclusion that I would rather have the respect of just one Ranger than the sympathy of the entire nation.
When my son was killed, I believed that his job as a Ranger was so much more important then mine. I wanted to pick up ‘his gauntlet’ and rush to my Army Recruiter and join up. Kris would have had such a giggle over that vision. Luckily I came to my senses and realized that my original job of being a mom was my best mission. My job has been slightly modified to include being the best Grandmother I can be for Camrin, Dereck and baby Kristofor. I am blessed again to continue a mission that I love. Children are our brightest hope.
Kris wrote us a last letter. In it he said, “I don’t know if you’ll ever get an explanation of how or why I died. I’d like to think I died for something important or vital to the mission here. But I don’t think it is. It’s just a ‘gravy’ mission and I fully expect to come back without firing a shot. So if you are reading this something went horribly wrong or it was just a bad luck Murphy’s Law type fluke. All of you are in my thoughts. I’ve had a good life and I’m happy to have spent it with all of you. Love Kris”
I must respectfully disagree my son’s assessment of his mission. I agree with our President who said my son did not die in vain, even if it just means that this one mother refuses to live in fear.
Kris knew how much I enjoyed being a mom. One Christmas I received a most treasured note, he wrote: “Dear Mom, on a day when gifts are exchanged in a dazzle of mediocrity and meaninglessness. You have given me an authentic gift, by being a Mother true. That I thank you for. Love Kris."
Total strangers have written me that my son Kris is an American hero. I prefer to describe Kris in much loftier terms—Dear Kris, during your lifetime, you gave me an authentic gift, by being a true loving son. That makes me very proud and very humble. I thank you for that gift. Love Mom.
Ruth Voshell Stonesifer