David Hardt

It can happen to anyone at any given time, anywhere — and that is facing mortality. It can happen to the best quality person, one who tries to do the right thing in life. Or it can happen to a person who takes life for granted, making everyone around him miserable. You read the paper and watch the news, and there is something tragic happening every day of the hour across the globe. It’s a fact that once we are born we begin to die. But it’s how you will die that reaches out and makes you think on occasion. How will I die? Will it be painful? Who will be there? Where will I be? Will I be able to say my last words?
While writing this article, I have asked some of the men around me what they are worried about when dying. Some gave the typical answer: “I hope I have my good underwear on.” Or: “If I die in battle, I hope to go out big.” “If I die, I hope it’s quick and not painful.” This last comment hit home: “When I die, I hope that what I have done in the past will affect someone in the future.” When you read back through the quotes, you will see more often the key word “if” rather than the last quote “when.”
The generation that has been titled Generation X has a sense of invincibility or being immortal. Some of these Generation X men and women are on the front lines of battle in Iraq, showing bravery and courage every day. Is it bad that some of these men and women are programmed with the invincibility syndrome? That is a matter of opinion, but what it comes down to is the word sacrifice. In that generation I speak of there are the few who will carry the burden and sacrifice of our great country. This is not to say older people don’t die honorably in combat. It just hits home for me when I hear of men and women in their teens or in their early 20s giving their last breath for honor and country.

When I think of honor, courage, valor, strength and dedication to country, the warriors of Sparta come to mind. Regarding the Spartans who fought at the famous battleground Thermopylae, French Renaissance essayist Michel de Montaigne said:
“Valor is the strength, not of legs and arms, but of heart and soul; it consists not in the worth of our horse or our weapons, but in our own. He who falls obstinate in his courage, if he has fallen, he fights on his knees. He who relaxes none of his assurance, no matter how great the danger of imminent death; who, giving up his soul, still looks firmly and scornfully at his enemy — he is beaten not by us, but by fortune; he is killed, not conquered.”
It is a different battleground that we fight on today but for some of the same reasons the great Spartans bled and died for. Granted, we do not stand in formation with swords and attack and fight one on one, but there is an underlining similarity. When I watched the movie “300,” I was skeptical that Hollywood could get it even halfway right, according to the history books. After I watched it, I started to realize that I didn’t care about the movie getting all Hollywood and dramatic. I started to think about a scenario on my first deployment to Iraq with C Company, 5-20.
It was a warm summer day, and we were doing just another regular patrol down the most dangerous road in our area of operation. At the time I was driving for Capt. Jensen, who was a first lieutenant then. Knowing I was rather new to the wheel, Capt. Jensen always made sure he was taking care of me. He would always say, “Hardt, just drive, and I will take care of the rest.” I had respect for and confidence in Capt. Jensen, because he gave me assurance that he cared — not just for the guys on the ground but for the guys behind the wheel getting us to the objective as well. And any driver knows that means a lot, because drivers get s*** on a lot and are not the most respected individuals. Why is this? Because usually drivers are privates, and sadly, it’s just the way it works. However, Capt. Jensen never treated me like a private but rather like a real person, so that made me work harder for him to get to the right spots and be effective behind the wheel. On this day I witnessed one of the bravest things I may have ever seen in my life. The action took place on this dangerous road. It didn’t make headline news or any newspaper, but it made me realize how brave and courageous our young men in battle were — especially Capt. Jensen.
There was this one house that we called the IED house. It was an average Iraqi house, but this one had a red door — as if to say target here. The side of the house that faced the road was riddled with bullet holes; it was amazing it was still standing.
As we drove by one day, we started to receive fire from that certain house and houses around it. We had a choice; well, Capt. Jensen had a choice. We could fight through it and carry on with the daily mission, or we could flip back around and go in and kill the bad guys. It wasn’t abnormal to just push on through since this thing was normal. But this day they hit 1st Platoon on the wrong day. Capt. Jensen gave out the orders calmly and collectively as if he had planned this before we left the FOB. “Flip around; get into the field set in position.” All of the trucks went into place, and the radio traffic started to pick up. Capt. Jensen gave the order: “I need a squad on the bank across the road from the house. I will take a squad across the road adjacent from the brick wall; you will give cover fire on our movement.” Capt. Jensen got off the radio, and then I dropped the ramp.
Through my scope, I could see a group of men making their way to the bank across from the house and then settling in. Off to my right, I could see Capt. Jensen attached to a squad getting ready to make their move. This was like a musical or a drama; every piece of the puzzle was being put into place.
I flipped my radio to platoon and listened in. Capt. Jensen gave the order to shoot 203 at the wall when the guy peeked over. I looked at the guys over in the ditch. I quickly noticed dirt flying up. At first I thought it might be wind, but there was no wind. I saw Spc. Crawford tumble down the embankment and then slowly crawl back up it. The word came over the radio that Crawford had a round basically rip right by him. Without a blink he was back on line. The NCO next to Crawford raised his 203 and shot. Unfortunately, the round was short and barely made the bank. The next shot was on the money and hit the wall. Dust and dirt went everywhere. It was then that I noticed to my right Capt. Jensen leading from the front across the dangerous road. I remember it like yesterday — seeing the dirt kick up after the enemy started to engage. The group of men didn’t run or hide; they stood their ground. Capt. Jensen led the way with his swagger. He and the men found themselves up against the wall fighting armed men. Capt. Jensen came over the radio asking for another 203, and he got it. This time the shot seemed to knock the fight out of the bad guys — well, temporarily.
In the wide open, vulnerable to contact, there stood Capt. Jensen on the battlefield like Gen. Patton — no fear, no worries, making sure his men were safe and doing the right thing. The enemy, of course, cowered away for a little, but they weren’t done. Capt. Jensen gave the orders to move back to the trucks. On the way back, just when we thought it was over, a couple of shots rang out. The shots echoed in my ears over the engine. As Capt. Jensen made his way back, of course in the rear, making sure none of his men got shot while en route back to the vehicle, bullets whizzed by and hit the wall behind him. I recall asking the men if they knew they were getting shot at. They replied, “Hell, yeah, you could hear the bullets whizzing by.” Not even fazed by all of this, Capt. Jensen kept his calm and his ability to lead by example, sending no one anywhere that he wouldn’t go himself. This is just one story of his leadership, dedication and courage. On my first deployment, I was blessed to have him as my leader. Even though I made some of his days rough by being just a plain stupid private, he never once made me feel less of a man for the things I believed in. I honestly can say he is one of the reasons why I continue to fight the fight with this organization. I had a hard time on my first deployment. Capt. Jensen was always there to listen to my ramblings and my young perception of the Army. Even though some of the things I said were harsh, he still listened and gave me encouragement. His smile and his daily disposition about his job and his responsibility made me realize that there were great leaders in the ranks and that there was hope and something to believe in. (This story was documented and written almost four years ago.)
Sept. 26, 2007, 2 p.m.
“It doesn’t seem right,” I mumbled to myself as I made my way down the road to the church where the memorial for Capt. Jensen would be held. I jumped out of my jeep and made my way to the front of the church.
Every memorial service I have attended in my military career has been similar. As you walk up to the church door, a young man and a young woman dressed in their class As stand with the memorial program in their hands. As you make your way to the sanctuary, the soft music plays “It is Well with My Soul.” As a pastor, my father used to play this song while conducting funerals. There is a certain calm and softness to that song that makes you reflect. As you sit down, the instinct to look around to see who has come to honor the fallen comrade is normal.
As the time for the memorial to start got closer, the seats started to fill in, and of course, it was a packed crowd. The ruffling of the programs and the silent whispers were followed by people trying to get comfortable in the standard church seats. Sitting to my left was a senior NCO with a cute baby on his lap. I thought to myself, “Such life and energy in the middle of sadness.” Off to my right were Daniel and another soldier. I looked up to the front, and on a big screen was a picture of Capt. Jensen. There were a couple of pictures. One was of Capt. Jensen with his thumb up giving the OK. In the right corner of the screen was a picture of him and his wife holding each other; their love for each other was evident. Even on the big screen his smile was infectious. That picture took me back to when I first met Capt. Jensen. I met him in the gym. It seemed to be his sanctuary. He came up to me, put out his hand and said with a big smile on his face that lit up the dark room, “Welcome to C Company. I am the platoon leader. If you need anything, you can talk to me.” He was confident; he had a swagger, but not too cocky. Like they say, you can always tell a leader by his handshake, and I could tell by his. He was a strong man with wisdom beyond his youthful years.
This wasn’t going to be just a normal memorial. This man touched my life and the lives of so many others. This man was real to me and affected my life. The soft music silenced, and the memorial started. You could hear the sniffles and ruffling of tissues. The screen that had Capt. Jensen’s picture on it flickered, and then a movie with pictures came on. The song that played with the slides was “Get Yourself Together.” It was fitting. The slides started with Army pictures. One was of him standing with his buddies and then progressed to pictures with his family. This is the one that hurt the most — a picture of his wonderful and beautiful wife, Stacia. It made it so much more real. I felt the urge to get emotional, but I just wouldn’t let myself do it. After the slide show ended, you could feel the sadness in the room. I looked around, and there were tears and red eyes everywhere. The invocation was given by the 5th, 20th chaplain, Capt. Hines. Following him was the battalion commander, Lt. Col. Antonia. As he gave a speech about how Capt. Jensen would fear no one man and stand up for his men no matter what, Lt. Col. Antonia started to get emotional, and his voice started to crackle. He finished without completely breaking down, but you could feel is pain. The next men up would be Capt. Jensen’s friends and colleagues — Capt. Nolan and Capt. Kocer. Both of these men had a deep friendship with and love for Capt. Jensen. Both shared stories from the past that spread laughter and sadness through the crowd. I thought there might be a river of tears with these two men since they were so close to Capt. Jensen, but they kept strong and spoke elegantly and professionally. I think they kept it together for the family, but that’s just my thinking. After that there was a Scripture read, and then the Tacoma fire department honor guard pipers came in and played “Amazing Grace.” I almost lost it, but I maintained my composure. The sounds of the pipers rocked the church. It was a beautiful tribute.
In every military memorial, there is the last call. 1st Sgt. William Montgomery from HHC, 5-20 gave the call. The roll was called in alphabetical order, and then 1st Sgt. Montgomery yelled with a thunderous voice, “Captain Jensen.” Silence. No answer. He spoke again — this time louder. “Captain Jensen.” Silence, followed by tears. The last call: “Captain Drew N. Jensen.” It was final. Capt. Jensen was now home with his Savoir, watching over his men once again. It was silent, and then out of nowhere came the playing of taps and the gun salute from outside. It rattled me from the inside out. The noise of the guns going off simply reminded me of Iraq and the sacrifice of so many. After that finished, the chaplain gave his final remarks. The music played, and it was over, but not before getting in line and saying good-bye one last time to a hero. The line formed, and everyone saluted and then some kneeled. One solider took off his name tag and placed it by Capt. Jensen’s picture. I walked up, saluted, took one last glance, and walked away.
Capt. Jensen was a young, brilliant leader in the most powerful and effective Army in the world. He paid the price for you and me and for others to come. I think back on the Spartans and their courage, pride, dedication, faithfulness, unyielding compassion for each other and most of all the ability to fight till the bitter end. There is a Spartan in all of us. Sometimes we must suffer and commit ourselves to the wolves, and if that is dying on the field of battle, be what it may, but those left behind will pick up the shield and continue the fight as you would and any other man you have led in rank. Capt. Jensen, although you are gone, you are still in our hearts. You are the Spartan that every soldier wants to be like. Thank you for your example and your staying power. May you rest in peace.
Captain Jensen was born and raised in Portland, Ore., on Oct. 1, 1979. He was raised in Damascus, Ore., where he was active in the community and volunteer organizations.
Captain Jensen attended the United States Military Academy at West Point where he graduated with honors, being commissioned as an Infantry Officer on June 1, 2002. After his completion of the Infantry Officers Basic course and Ranger School, Drew was assigned to the 5th, 20th Regiment at Fort Lewis, Washington. He served with honor and distinction as 1st platoon leader, Charlie Company, and later as the battalion logistics officer and Charlie Company XO.
In November 2005, he was assigned as the Mortar Platoon Leader and led his men through 11 months of combat operations in Mosul, Baghdad and Baquabah, Iraq.
Captain Jensen’s military awards and decorations include the Bronze Star medal, the Purple Heart (one oak leaf cluster), the Meritorious Service medal, the Army Commendation with Valor (with oak leaf cluster), National Defense Service medal, the Iraq Campaign medal, the Global War on Terrorism Expeditionary, the Army Service ribbon, Overseas Service ribbon, the Combat Infantryman’s Badge, the Parachutist badge, and the Ranger Tab.
Captain Jensen is survived by his wife, Stacia; his parents, Lance and Mardi; and his brothers, Shane and Adam.
You will be missed, Captain Jensen, but never forgotten.
David B. Hardt
(*The Writer)

Comments

[Mandy williams]

My friends talked about you today and told me about your writing. I looked you up and I came across this article. Your writing is touching and well thought out. I can't believe that your in the Army and not working for a big time paper somewhere. My girlfriends tells me that you talk the way you write with passion and conviction. I know you must get alot of emails from girls but I wanteed to say that you are one special man, I can tell. I hope the Army knows what kind of man they have and take advantage of it. I think it's odd the the regular papers did half report on this and you went the distance. My girlfriends and I will start reading more of your articles. Crystal says she knows you and that you are working on another article about running. I can't wait for that I am getting back into shape.
Your a wonderful talented writer.And Crystal say you have beautiful blue eye's
your friends
Mandy Williams
xoxox
hope to meet you some day.

[cathy b]

We read of Capt. Jensen and his very brave decision. Both he and his family possess remarkable courage. Once again, David (the writer), thank you for sharing your thoughts.
Cathy B

[Chris Losinno]

I had the honor of meeting and working with Capt.Jensen of 5-20 for a short time in Baqubah. The one thing that I always will remember about him was his love for his men.
I am greatly honored and priveleged for having met men like Capt. Jensen and the rest of the soldiers from 5-20.

Chris Losinno--Law Enforcemnent Professional

[Chris Losinno]

I had the privelege of meeting and working with Capt. Jensen for a short time while in Baqubah. He was an amazing commander and leader. His respect and love for his troops was unconditional. I also wanted to say that the soldiers of 5-20 Infantry Battalion were some of the finest soldiers I have ever had the privelege of working with.

Thanks,
Chris Losinno-LEP, Fort Polk, JRTC.
JIEEDO training LEP

[Janice]

Dave that was very touching and a real view of how you think and feel about people. Thank You again and I am looking forward to being able to see you at Thanksgiving for the first time after getting home. We miss you but are proud of your ability that you can give to others MOM