Each of us knew we may be asked to lay down our life for our brothers. But the cost to my soul is more than I can bear.”


He sat, slumped against a wall of grey brick, the labored breath of his comrades cutting through the silence. The sounds of battle have faded off into the distance, replaced instead but the unnerving quiet of a dying city. There were ten of them when they left the front gate of Forward Operation Base that morning, just as they had nearly one hundred times before. Every day the same routine. Wake up, goto the bathroom, shave, check your gear, grab some chow from the Dinning Facility, then off to the intel brief at the Operations Center.

Everyday was the same. Everyday was one day closer to heading home. One day closer to waving goodbye to this shit hole for the last time. But not this day.

That morning after chow, the Brigade Battle Captain gave them their patrol route, one of ten they rotated through in an effort to deceive the enemy. But even this pattern became predicable once the tedium of war began to set in.

Complacency Kills….. I should have seen it

According to intel the route was green, as they had seen no movement along that road in several weeks. “Should be a cake walk”, said the Captain as he handed over the latest imagery to him. “See you tonight for your debrief.”

Thoughts of what happened next rushed through his mind as he tried not to quiver, clasping his hands tightly above his head and folding his elbow downward along his face in an effort to escape. As if drawing himself deeper into his own thoughts would make everything less real. Maybe, just maybe, it was all a bad dream.

He could still smell the the gun powder, taste the smoke and embers of the fire that followed the explosion, hear the screams of shock as steel ripped flesh and the first man fell. They call it the mad minute for a reason, for it is the single, most pure moment of chaos he had ever experienced. Once it began, every fiber of his being told him to run, but he was responsible for his men. They were expecting him to bring them all back alive. Something impossible to promise in a time of war.

With his mind still drifting, a blood covered hand touched his shoulder, “Sir, Draper’s bled out. Nothing more I can do.”

He looked up from the ground, glanced at the hand upon his shoulder, then surveyed the space before him. There were nine men huddled into this small room. Each of them pressed up against one of the walls, carful to avoid silhouetting themselves in front of the windows, or various spider holes which pockmarked the concrete walls. Crouched next to him was Sergeant Myer, his uniform coated in a dirt, soot, and blood. His eyes were sullen, yet steadfast. He did not seemed troubled by what had just happened, simply resigned to it.

In the rear of the room, near a barred door, lay Draper. Empty IV bags, and used first aid dressings were strewn about the floor. His clothes lay in tatters after SGT Myer cut them open to better treat his wounds. Beneath the clothes, his limbs had been ravaged by the blast, flesh torn from bone. SGT Mayer had done what he could to stem the tide, but there was just too much blood and no way to stop it all.

His eyes passed from Drapers, which had begun to glaze over white, to each man in his Platoon. It seemed to him that each was struggling to reconcile what had happened. Some faces were drawn in tightly, their brows furrowed in anger, lusting for revenge. Others sat wide eyed, staring off into the coming darkness. Still more sat peering out of the corner of the windows, pulling security and looking out for any enemy movements, as they were trained to do.

As they were trained to do…

Eventually his eyes came back to rest on SGT Myer, who looked at him with a sense of understanding. Wordlessly he nodded at SGT Myer and rose slowly to his feet. He knew that all were looking to him for a decision, looking to him for assurances that they were not going to die. Looking to him to suppress what had happened, and do what needed to be done.

Grasping his weapon from where it had been resting along the wall, he drew back his bolt to ensure a round was still chambered. As he did so, he took his feelings of regret, remorse, fear, and anger. Put each in its own box and hid them away deep inside his mind. In time, the seals would begin to crack, and the boxes would begin to leak unresolved emotions that would had to be dealt with. In time he would fall to his knees, screaming to the heavens for salvation, but there would be no answer.

But now was not that time. Now a leader must do what is expected. Do what he was trained to do.

Motioning towards the rear of the building, he cleared his throat and spoke in a clear, untrembling tone. “Allden, check the alleyway around the back of the house to make sure its clear. Falicaro, prep Draper for movement. Everyone else, cross level ammo, check your sensitive items and get ready to push out.“

Each man quickly snapped back to the task at hand and began moving with a renewed sense of purpose, as Allden unbarred the door to the rear of the building and peered cautiously down the darkening street. Lights flickered along the trash strewn alley, but betrayed no movement. Behind him, Falicaro and another Soldier began laying out a field liter on which to carry Drapers body, as the rest of the men passed half loaded magazines between each other, checked the remaining belts for the M240B, and prepared to move.

Taking a deep breath, he walked to the rear door and knelt beside Allden as they finished their preparations. SGT Myer fell in behind him along the wall, gripping his shoulder to let him know he was there, ready to follow.

As the last of his men gathered their gear he spoke once more in hushed tones, “Stack on me. Once we move into the alley we will bound by teams back towards the rally point. Stay sharp, and cover the rooftops. Questions?”

They all stood silent as each man’s pulse began to race. One by one they lined up, ready to move out. He looked from man to man, then turned back towards the door, peering over Allden’s shoulder. Night had come, and the lives of his remaining men were in his hands. There was no time to second guesses, no time to “what ifs”.

Ok, lets go.” He whispered as they began to file into the street.


I had a curious conversation with a Cadet of mine on Friday. He had just recently completed everything required to join the Army and progress towards becoming a Second Lieutenant. As he was preparing to sign, his mother said that she had reservations, but she didn’t want him to wonder what could have been later in life seeing as this is what he was choosing to do. The standard response from me should have been something along the lines of “There is no nobler cause than serving ones country and its people.” or “The training he will receive will better prepare him for life’s challenges.”

Iraq 2007Although I agree with both of those statements, cliche as they are, I found myself talking instead about the decision points which occur in each persons life. There may only be two or three of them in a lifetime, but they are so pivotal that they completely alter your life path and once you choose, there is no going back. This young man’s decision last Friday may have been one of those types of moments for him, and only time tell. But it got me thinking about what my decision points been up until this point? Did I make the right choices? What could I have been if I chose another road?

When trying to determine when I stood in the crossroads, I tried to focus on decisions that could only have been made at that particular place and time. An simplistic example may be if you stumbled into someone giving away a car, but only at that very moment. If you had bumped into them fives minuets earlier or later, they would not have given it to you. Based on this, one decision stood out to me, and it may not be what you think.

In early 2003 I deployed to Iraq with the 14the Engineer Battalion, attached to the 4th Infantry Division. The events of that year in Salah Ah Din Province were life changing as I was exposed for the first time to War. Although this was my chosen profession, you are never really prepared to experience it. Just prior to deploying, I had been gone for over a year in Korea and the stress these two back to back deployments placed on my marriage were extreme. As the tour wore on, it looked more and more likely that I would come home to an empty house. So I had to make a decision, my career in the Army or my wife and daughter. I drafted up the Release From Active Duty paperwork and stared at it for several weeks. Weighing my options, wondering if things were as bad as they seemed at home. All the while doing my duty as a deployed Soldier.

Finally I signed.

Several weeks later my packet came back approved, and in early 2004 I was released from Active Duty, and assigned to a Army Reserve Unit in Fort Lewis, WA. Before this point, I had a clear understanding of what my life would be. I knew roughly where I would live, when I would be promoted, and what types of jobs I would have for the next twenty years. But now I didn’t have a job, was unsure if I could provide for my family, and had lost a piece of my identity.

Was it worth it? Well, the series of events which have happened since is a mixed bag. I worked in a job which nearly broke me, I deployed to Iraq during the surge and lost my roommate and several other friends, and many of my relationships continued to degrade. However, in that same time I was able to help many people while deployed overseas, I happened to be at the right place and time to launch a successful eight year music career, and I was home for the majority of the past ten years and able to watch my daughter grow up before my eyes.

What could have been? A wise NCO once told me that “You can What If a situation to death, but it doesn’t change what happened.” Truer words have never been spoken, but I still think about what I might have become. Would I have been able to do more good in the world? Would I have been able to help my family more? In the end, I have come to peace with the decisions I have made. There are many things I wish I had done better, but I think I did the right thing when I reached my crossroads.

532792_3517880940168_616924896_nIn the moment, it is hard to identify when you have truly reached a crossroads in your life. At the time it may seem like the most important decision of your life, but in time it may become simply a bump in the road, and not a change of direction. The best any of us can hope to do is take responsibility for each of our choices, understand the consequences, and hope that we have done whats best for ourself, our family, and all of those around us.


A person does not realize their own stagnation until change is thrust upon them. 


One year ago today I was living just south of Seattle. My days were filled with the tasks associated with developing and leading Soldiers. My nights were spent playing music and relaxing with friends. Weekends I spent either traveling to play shows, or at home rehearsing. In the summer I had the privilege of working as the Commander of Reserve Forces (USAR) during operations at Fort Lewis, WA.



Things were good. I understood where I was at in life and what my future held (or so I thought). But soon a cascade of events unfolded, some within my control, some not, that have brought me to where I am now. And where am I? I am sitting in Buffalo trying to figure out how Ilife has brought me here and where will it eventually lead me. Was there anything I could have done better, anything I could have changed? Would I have changed it if I had the chance?


Its a humbling experience, walking the same paths that you tread in your youth. Its been over 20 years, and so much has changed. Reflecting on this reality, I know that there are moments in each of our lives that guide us down certain paths. Once we cross these thresholds we can never no back.



For me, one such moment was when I chose to join the Army while taking classes at Erie Community College. Impulsive decisions seem to be my nature, and this was one of many that I have made over the years. Yesterday I visited the very place where I made that decision when I was 18 years old. I stood, silent, in the same small corner office where I spoke with my guidance councilor over two decades ago. Strangely, it still bore the same glass and metal facades worn with age. I could swear that even the chairs were the same. Just outside the office were the class rooms that I sat in, mulling over this decision while discussing trivialities with my friends. There names have faded over time, but I can still see their faces…


This one moment in time, set me along a irrevocable path. A path that has sent me throughout the United States, and to battlefields halfway around the world. Each experience defining me, shaping me, expanding what I thought was real. Was it the right choice?


A second moment, no less poignant than the first, set me upon a far different path. It was the summer of 2007 and I had just returned from Iraq. The desert had changed me, as war changes all things. My spirt was unsettled, and I felt the need to fill up every waking moment of my life to make sure none of it was wasted. I remember sitting in Robert’s living room. Most of the band was there, and I sat as an outsider, having just met each of them less than a week before. A some point during the evening, Kristina said that they were going to be looking for a new bass player. In an almost reflexive gesture I blurted out… “I play bass”. This was, in point of fact, not true. I had never played bass before professionally. In my defense, I had played guitar since I was six, and had kept up my skills over the years.


A short time later, after buying a bass and learning all of Death of Tragedy, I won out during the auditions. I then went on to play for over seven years at nearly one hundred shows on three continents, and recorded on eight albums. Again, an impulsive decision that shaped my life for almost a decade. Far from the rigor of a professional Army Officer, I lived the life of an artist and traveled the world in an effort to inspire others through music. But was this the right decision? Where would I be today if I had kept silent?


By now you may be asking what is the point of all this?

The point is that I have no idea where I would be if I hadn’t made those choices. They were snap decisions at random moments in time, each of which have drastically impacted the trajectory of my life. Each time I latched onto what seemed like a good idea, and stepped out of the familiar into something wholly alien. If I would have chosen to be complacent, or comfortable with the status quo, I would have never experienced the world as I have. The beauty of a sunset on the coast of Spain, the smell of rainforest after a storm, the pain… the pain of losing those close to you. For each decision comes experience, and in each experience is born hope, and regret, knowledge, and loss.


I sometimes long for things that have past, but I do not regret my decisions. What use would it be if I did? I cannot change what has already been decided. Fate has already snipped that thread, and began to weave another.


To each person I say, do not shy away from these moments of transition, embrace them. Within each and every one of us stirs a spirt yearning to know what is out there. A spirt that wants to experience life, and understand what it means to be human….To live.


Do not stand idly by and accept what is. Write your own story, great or small. It is your life to live, time will not wait for you. Take a chance, because you never know what could happen and tomorrow will be too late.


Each of us has something that we hold dear, and each of us aspires to become something more than a face in a crowd. Some of us let these aspirations slowly die over time, ground down by the world. Others fight to make these a reality, but it often comes at a great personal cost.

Both of these paths have merit, and one is not better than the other. One person may have had to sacrifice their dreams in order to help another. Stability and security over the risk of failure. Another may have lived on the street, horning their craft, in the hope that one day they would make it. The dream of something better over comfort and conformity.

But there is another person. One who targets those who have achieved their dreams, in order to pull them down and justify their own path. This may not be done consciously, but be it out of malice or ignorance the outcome is the same. Life is not a game, and there are consequences for ones actions. Cause and effect is the rule not the exception.

The tragedy is that many will never see or understand the damage they have wrought because of their actions. They will continue plodding along, gently picking at people in the hopes of living a small portion of what they once desired at the expense of another.

But there are consequences….
To take away ones dreams is to take away their soul….
To take away ones soul is to take what burns brightest within us….
Without this spark, we plod on towards an inevitable end…
Bereft of Hope, Bereft of Dreams



A soul born of fire now dips below the horizon
Struggling against an unavoidable fate
His light fades, replaced by darkness
Buried beneath the stars.
In memory of a path traced full upon the heavens long ago
He came amidst rumors of hope and salvation
With curious and cautious steps he stretched high above the Grove
Rising slowly, purposefully into the sky.
With love and compassion
His light nurtured the spirits of those who dared stand alone
But beyond the Zenith, time grinds all things
Now within the dimming path, his brilliance slowly fades.
Shadows stretch long as the arms of all reach skyward
An unease most primal enters their minds, the truth which is the End
Fear of the darkness, and whats hidden within
Don’t leave us.
The edge of his soul touches twilight and beings to wither
Pulled downward he rages, clawing at the sky
In a final fit of life, he bleeds in fiery hues of blue and orange upon the sky
His warmth fading with time.
We wait in shadow,
The veil now drawn
The Abyss impassable.
As despair grips all, there comes another
Her gentle light calming the souls of those below
A reflection of He, shimmering in silver
She speaks in whispers of what came before
We must wait, we must endure
Luminescent fingers stretch downward through trees and over mountains
The path now lit in ghostly whites and grays
That which has passed shall be again
We must abide the dead of night
For those who survive this midnight hour shall see the light again



I know this is a few days late, but over this past Memorial Day I was thinking back on my time in the Military and the things that I have seen and done. There are times I thought I knew exactly what I was doing, and other times…

In 2003, each of us were certain we knew what to expect when we crossed the LD from Kuwait into Iraq. We were all well trained, and understood every facet of our mission. When the call came, we flooded over the border and left behind a small piece of ourselves, never to be seen again. I can only guess that this must be same way every Soldier in every war has felt when they first enter the fray. Still as of yet untouched by reality.


As we pushed north, we passed through 3rd ID in Baghdad and moved north towards Tikrit, then striking eastwards towards the oil fields surrounding Kirkuk. We advanced from town to town and many things were as you would expect. Sporadic fire exchanged with an Army in retreat, burned out shells of tanks lining the highway, looters streaming from Government buildings carrying what they could.


During this time there was one image that stuck with me, one above the others. It happened just north of Tikrit at the Al Sahara Airfield, it was April 2003.

We had just pushed west around Tikrit along the MSR Tampa Bypass and were tasked with securing the Airfield for the Division ALOC. Marine Recon elements had passed through the area about 24 hours earlier and did an initial sweep. As Engineers, we were to clear and secure the site, assess the airfield, and be prepared to receive additional forces.

The largest concentration of buildings were around the water town in the north east corner of the base. Based on our initial assessment, we decided to start with this part of the airfield. Slowly, cautiously, we moved into the complex.

One by one we went through the blasted out homes, all of which were in various states of disarray. Some had been ripped to shreds by scatterable munitions, while others were riddled with holes from small arms fire. Rooms were tossed as the officers and their families hastily grabbed what they could. Mixed within were the bodies of Soldiers tasked to defend the area, and of looters caught stealing before the based was overrun.

As we moved down the row of houses, we saw one building at the end of the block that was untouched by the chaos which had roiled through the streets. There was a kept lawn, with flat paving stones ringing the outside. The widows were cracked open, and pink and blue curtains shifted in the spring breeze. The front door stood slightly ajar as we cautiously approached. Once the signal was given, we entered from multiple directions expecting more of the same, but were stopped short as we ventured into the first room.

Everything within the home was neat and clean, as if waiting for guests to arrive. There were blankets neatly folded upon the couch, and rows of knick knacks arranged upon shelves.

The war had not come here… It was not welcome…

I rounded the corner to see pictures of Mickey Mouse and Barbie lining the walls amidst photos of Saddam. There was a long table in the center of the room flanked by tiny chairs all lined in a row. Upon the table were piles of crayons and drawing left undone, cups still half full with grape juice, and small toys strewn about the floor. I stood silent upon the threshold…

Days passed into weeks, and additional forces arrived on the airfield. One by one we occupied the officers quarters, turning them into barracks, field hospitals, and operations centers. I don’t know if it was simply that we didn’t need the space, or that subconsciously we couldn’t bring ourselves to disturb it. But as we expanded our footprint that one building, the well kept daycare at the end of the block, was left alone.

Frozen in time, life before the bombs fell…



I have just recently returned form our performance at Wave Gotek Treffen in Leipzig Germany, and I have to admit that this single performance has taught me more about myself than any other in the last few years. We knew it would be an important show, but I don’t think we were really knew what that meant.

As a musician there are many levels of success. Most of us start out by performing in local coffee shops or for tiny events while still in High School. (I myself was in a Rush cover band called Vital Signs – yes it was the eighties….) After a few years of this we slowly move to small clubs in the local area performing for tiny crowds of people, opening for other small bands that are either local or traveling through.


And time passes….

Next, if you have been able to establish any sort of fan base, you being to headline those tiny local shows in 100 person capacity clubs, and those “up and coming” local artist start seeking you out to perform with. As you become more established in the scene and you begin branching out to nearby cities whose club managers you met through local contacts.


And time passes….

Its now several years later, and you are playing shows in clubs up and down the coast. Some are better than others, but each builds upon the one before and slowly, steadily your name gets out. This is when the first small festival promoters begin to call and ask you to open for other more established bands. As with every other phase of a musicians career, you slowly work your way up this ladder until people take notice.


And time passes….

Now you have some momentum and your notoriety beings to build. Small festivals contact larger festivals, and those who you had been opening for, begin to open for you. You are well known in the scene and begin getting noticed in the press. One story feeds another and another and you soon find yourself at the forefront of an underground movement. Still obscure enough to be considered indie, but with one foot in the mainstream ready to break free.

AP Austin TX (7)

And time passes….

The stream of public consciousness is now aware of you. Successes build upon themselves more rapidly than before. People being to recognize you as you head to and from the shows, and the promoters are acutely aware of what you bring to the table. You start to receive calls to headline indie festivals that had passed you over year after difficult year.

This is where our most recent chapter ends, but the rest of the story is not yet written.

The moral of my short story is that there is no easy path to success. Only through consistent hard work, perseverance, tolerance for risk, and belief that this dream could be achieved that got us this far. There was no record label there to prop us up, and take away our creative freedom with vague promises of fame and fortune. There was no talent manager who saw a random Youtube video, and plucked us from nothing to stardom.

There will be times when you want to quit, when you want to give up because thing have gone so terribly wrong. But you have to persevere, and understand that things will only get harder, and the pressure will build as you get closer to realizing your dream.

Do not wait to be “discovered”, make them take notice.

Do not wait till tomorrow to do something you could do today.

Do not let others tell you why you cant do something.

Do not pass from Excuses to Regret.

Dream, Create, Endure, Live.