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