Just tuned in to see D-Ring's page.
I served with Capt. Terhune in Iraq, in 2007. It was a short deployment to a combat zone, but taxing nonetheless. I'm certain that his professional skill as a forward air controller contributed to one of the many airstrikes that made our area of operations a safer one to exist in.
When I heard that Capt. Terhune passed on, I was in our company office. I immediately brought his address up on the computer, and shot an email that read "Just heard; What happened?" to his account. I only then realized that he'd never respond. It was a fairly crushing realization, and I try not to think much of it.
Capt. Terhune was the most easily approachable officer I've ever had the pleasure of dealing with. The fortune of dealing with, really. Even the most aggressive and intolerant of our ranks found him very likeable and knowledgable. Much of his time was spent in the well-deck, helping Marines understand the inner workings of close air support.
I don't know if you were aware of this, but his funeral was scheduled to be picketed by the Westboro Baptist Church, a hate group that pickets the funerals of soldiers and Marines. Up until the day prior, they planned to carry out this protest, and several of our Marines had conspired to cause them a good amount of harm if they carried it out. If not for a generous radio talk-show host, I shudder to think of the brig time and bad press we may have had to endure. A talk show host who's name I cannot recall offered the church an hour of free air-time in lieu of protesting that funeral, and they accepted. Thank God they accepted.
After this, I emailed the "church" about Capt. Terhune. They often get emails from viewers of their site, questioning their horrible ways. They respond with a slew of filth and angry insults, in general. I told them that I couldn't understand how they could consider picketing the funeral of Capt. Terhune, as he was one of the best men I could think of. Everyone around him knew of his faith, and I'm not sure even one of us can remember hearing the man curse.
I watched another officer play a joke on Capt. Terhune one day. He snuck up behind him in the office and threw a sleeper hold on him, and for some reason, the choke must've been too hard or something; Capt. Terhune passed out. We thought he was playing, and it took him a good minute to come to. When he did, he told us it felt like he'd slept all night. He was nothing but smiles and laughs about it. Even took the lower ranking guys, myself included, aside to ensure we knew the officer was joking and that nothing crazy needed to happen.
I don't know what I hoped to accomplish by writing. I hope you're all well. Good luck in all that you do.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
From Daniel MacAdam
I just stumbled across this blog.
I was a childhood friend of Eric's. Seeing others share their memories of Eric brings back many happy memories from my youth, even as it recalls to the present my sorrow at his passing.
Eric and I met attending the same pre-K daycare in Lexington, so I guess we were...5? My family had just moved to town. Eric & I hit it off and our families became friendly. Joy & Dan were wonderfully generous and went far out of their way to help my folks feel welcome in our new home. My mom was smitten by Eric from the first moment. He was stunningly polite. I don't think mom had ever been called "ma'am" before, by one of her son's friends! When Joy came to pick him up, he asked mom if he could have a hug, "because I don't have a mommy, and I'd really like a hug." It completely melted her heart.
We did the things that kids do; imaginative play, Construction projects with Legos, building forts out of couch cushions & blankets, etc. I had my first sleepover at his house, on the bunkbeds. I remember the chiming of the big grandfather clock in the hallway, as I drifted off to sleep.
But I remember most clearly, a day when Eric was over at my house... we were probably 7 at this point. I had the bright idea, "let's play Army!"
Eric said, with conviction, "no, we're playing Marines!"
Greetings to Joy & Dan! It's been a while. I'm so fortunate to have known Eric. I will always treasure my fond memories of the good times we shared.
With Love and Best Wishes,
Daniel MacAdam, Chicago
I was a childhood friend of Eric's. Seeing others share their memories of Eric brings back many happy memories from my youth, even as it recalls to the present my sorrow at his passing.
Eric and I met attending the same pre-K daycare in Lexington, so I guess we were...5? My family had just moved to town. Eric & I hit it off and our families became friendly. Joy & Dan were wonderfully generous and went far out of their way to help my folks feel welcome in our new home. My mom was smitten by Eric from the first moment. He was stunningly polite. I don't think mom had ever been called "ma'am" before, by one of her son's friends! When Joy came to pick him up, he asked mom if he could have a hug, "because I don't have a mommy, and I'd really like a hug." It completely melted her heart.
We did the things that kids do; imaginative play, Construction projects with Legos, building forts out of couch cushions & blankets, etc. I had my first sleepover at his house, on the bunkbeds. I remember the chiming of the big grandfather clock in the hallway, as I drifted off to sleep.
But I remember most clearly, a day when Eric was over at my house... we were probably 7 at this point. I had the bright idea, "let's play Army!"
Eric said, with conviction, "no, we're playing Marines!"
Greetings to Joy & Dan! It's been a while. I'm so fortunate to have known Eric. I will always treasure my fond memories of the good times we shared.
With Love and Best Wishes,
Daniel MacAdam, Chicago
From Bekah Granstrom
My daughters school had a Veterans Day "performance" today. They had veterans come and speak, the chorus sang our National Anthem. They played the taps, and showed a slide show of people within the school that were serving over seas. Every time they talked about our freedom or those KIA, I saw the face of Eric Terhune. I had just read your blog and it was all so fresh in my mind. I couldn't keep the tears the coming and I didn't want to. Freedom is never free and you gave the ultimate sacrifice...your life! I never knew you that well but between Dave Ziegler and my husband, I really could have! Words can not thank you enough for your sacrifice, and I will never forget you or the others that have laid down their lives for my freedom! Rest in Peace!
From Samuel "Big Bear" Wiley
Well this is the only photo i have of CAPT "D-RING" this was takin after a long day in a training exercise before we deployed to afghanistan, you know he took care of his marines it was an honor to serve with
D-RING, i remeber the day CAPT MEYER or HILL JACK as he told us to call him told me i was going to be D-RING's radio operator (RO), he came walking up the hill with a big wad of dip in his mouth haha and nothing but gear attached to him i was surprised at how easy he made it look,carrying all that gear,anyways he taught me alot about the duties of being a FAC RO, he was a very honorable man i will always remeber d-ring
he was a leader,brother, MARINE
SEMPER FI BROTHER
WILEY OR "BIG BEAR" AS HE CALLED ME
From 1st Lieutenant David Keltner
I served with CAPT Terhune on his deployment to Iraq in the summer of 2007. I was a platoon commander and D-ring was assigned periodically to my platoon to provide coordination with aircraft.
I was just wanted to share some memories:
First, Eric wasn't a complicated guy. He was open and sincere. He wasn't perfect either, known to drink a bit too much on liberty and to talk at length. But if you were in his unit, he would do whatever he could to help. There weren't many of other officers at our dust bowl of a base, but when I was mentally exhausted or overwhelmed I could go to his ply board shack and find a welcome. He even gave me the combination lock on his door, so sometimes he would come back from a mission or briefing and find me passed out on his bed or using his computer. He never was annoyed, just caring in an unassuming way. Marines don't give unsolicited counseling to each other, so opening up your personal enclave sends a stronger message of support than you might think. He came from the infantry, and even though he went on to join the air wing, he retained a genuine love for grunts. He knew our lives were harder than at the squadrons back at big airbases, and we spent our days dirty, tired, and always on the move. And because he recognized that, he made me feel appreciated.
We gave D-Ring a hard time because he LOVED GEAR. He had four different types of patrol backpacks. He was the proprietor of the largest assortments of detachable pouches and specialized flak jacket attachments I have ever seen. On multi-day patrols, he back was overloaded with more reserve water and food than all others who didn't want the weight. I'd jibe him as we stepped off, but more than once we found an IED that took a long time to dissarm or orders were changes for us to stay out longer, and a couple days into the mission I would secretly ask him for a drink or a snack after I had ran out. He always gave freely, and you could sense a satisfaction in him for being able to support the team. And that support on our level could be measured in tangible pain. Lugging water, added to the crushing weight of bullet proof armor, weapons, and ammunition, across the broken farmland and myriad of canals in suffocating Iraqi summer bears a price in pain emanating through your back and legs with precious calories spilling out your sweat. To bear the pain, and then offer a drink to your comrades who bear less, has a meaning on the deepest level of comradeship.
I think his ongoing hobby with gear and finding the right arrangement of attachments on his flak vest was indicative of his love of the job. He enjoyed preparing for missions and he loved just being a Marine. His giving nature showed that. Whatever I needed, he was there for me.
I knew I could lean on the kindness of D-Ring without even asking. I often took his willingness to help for granted. But its men like him that make of the backbone of the Marine Corps.
I hope his family can take solace in knowing that Eric truly was pursuing what brought him satisfaction and purpose: being there to give and support his fellow Marines.
I had just jumped out of the gun truck from an uneventful convoy in now relatively peaceful Iraq, when I heard the news that Eric had been killed in Afghanistan. My head hung. I saw on my flak jacket jacket the radio pouch attachment he had cheerily loaned me a year and a half ago, the fading stamp on it, 'Terhune.'
Sincerely,
1st Lieutenant David Keltner
Military Transition Team 0723, Company Advisor
I was just wanted to share some memories:
First, Eric wasn't a complicated guy. He was open and sincere. He wasn't perfect either, known to drink a bit too much on liberty and to talk at length. But if you were in his unit, he would do whatever he could to help. There weren't many of other officers at our dust bowl of a base, but when I was mentally exhausted or overwhelmed I could go to his ply board shack and find a welcome. He even gave me the combination lock on his door, so sometimes he would come back from a mission or briefing and find me passed out on his bed or using his computer. He never was annoyed, just caring in an unassuming way. Marines don't give unsolicited counseling to each other, so opening up your personal enclave sends a stronger message of support than you might think. He came from the infantry, and even though he went on to join the air wing, he retained a genuine love for grunts. He knew our lives were harder than at the squadrons back at big airbases, and we spent our days dirty, tired, and always on the move. And because he recognized that, he made me feel appreciated.
We gave D-Ring a hard time because he LOVED GEAR. He had four different types of patrol backpacks. He was the proprietor of the largest assortments of detachable pouches and specialized flak jacket attachments I have ever seen. On multi-day patrols, he back was overloaded with more reserve water and food than all others who didn't want the weight. I'd jibe him as we stepped off, but more than once we found an IED that took a long time to dissarm or orders were changes for us to stay out longer, and a couple days into the mission I would secretly ask him for a drink or a snack after I had ran out. He always gave freely, and you could sense a satisfaction in him for being able to support the team. And that support on our level could be measured in tangible pain. Lugging water, added to the crushing weight of bullet proof armor, weapons, and ammunition, across the broken farmland and myriad of canals in suffocating Iraqi summer bears a price in pain emanating through your back and legs with precious calories spilling out your sweat. To bear the pain, and then offer a drink to your comrades who bear less, has a meaning on the deepest level of comradeship.
I think his ongoing hobby with gear and finding the right arrangement of attachments on his flak vest was indicative of his love of the job. He enjoyed preparing for missions and he loved just being a Marine. His giving nature showed that. Whatever I needed, he was there for me.
I knew I could lean on the kindness of D-Ring without even asking. I often took his willingness to help for granted. But its men like him that make of the backbone of the Marine Corps.
I hope his family can take solace in knowing that Eric truly was pursuing what brought him satisfaction and purpose: being there to give and support his fellow Marines.
I had just jumped out of the gun truck from an uneventful convoy in now relatively peaceful Iraq, when I heard the news that Eric had been killed in Afghanistan. My head hung. I saw on my flak jacket jacket the radio pouch attachment he had cheerily loaned me a year and a half ago, the fading stamp on it, 'Terhune.'
Sincerely,
1st Lieutenant David Keltner
Military Transition Team 0723, Company Advisor
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