Bonfire Fall Second Anniversary Memorial

 

I am writing this account at 5:23 p.m. on Sunday, November 18, 2001—more than 12 hours after the second year anniversary of ‘99 Bonfire’s Fall.  The Bonfire fell at 2:42 a.m. on Thursday morning, the 18th of November 1999.  As I stood in the morning cool on the Texas A&M Polo Field, I saw the deep pain that had rocked the campus more than two years ago laid bare in the eyes of those loyal loved ones who stood grieving with me.  The memorial had little publicity.  None the less, at least 500 students and family members came to pay their respects to the dead.

 

I invited Becky (a friend from my Sociology class) and Don (the Dunn Hall president) to go with me.  Don, Becky, and I arrived at the site at about 2:20 a.m.  When we arrived, there were already between 300 and 400 people there.  We stood quietly—not a soul spoke except for occasional sobs from the bereaved.  A few people would, every now and then, place candles in a formation at the foot of a huge wreath located in the center of the field.  Others would place flowers or other memorabilia near the wreath.

           

At about 2:30 a.m. Don tapped my shoulder and nodded in the direction behind where we stood.  I slowly turned and gasped at what I saw.  There, drifting slowly across the field toward us, were the Pots.  There must have been at least a hundred of them.  They walked not as men and women, but as grizzled old soldiers and corpses.  It reminded me of the poem "Hollow Men" by T. S. Eliot.  There were the Falcons—their black pots gleaming under the lights.  The Cocks were there.  I know there were many other outfits there as well, but I only recognized Squadron 16 and Company C-2.  Seven outfits lost members that I know of: Jeremy Frampton, D-1 (Spider D); Nathan West, C-2 (Cocks); Lucas John Kimmel, D-2 (Dog Company); Christopher Heard, K-2 (Killer K); Jerry Self, Squadron 17 (Challengers); Bryan McClain, Squadron 2 (Gator 2); Timothy Kerlee, Jr., F-16 (Falcons).  Four non-regs—Michael Ebanks, Keathley Hall; Chad Anthony Powell, Fowler Hall; Jamie Lynn Hand, Keathley Hall; Miranda Adams, Mosher Hall—died.  Christopher Breen, a ’97 A&M graduate and Corps alumnus, also died.  I watched as the Falcons slowly proceeded to where the parents of their own fallen cadet, Tim Kerlee, Jr., stood.  The parents and the cadets embraced each other with tender affection and sorrow.  The Falcons were grounded on this day.

           

At 2:42 a.m. Mrs. Janice Kerlee, mother of the deceased Tim Kerlee, Jr. and author of The Chance to Say Goodbye, called the Muster.  We all answered a tearful "Here!" to our chosen remembered.  This is what she said:

 

Softly call the Muster:

Let Comrade answer here

Their spirits hover 'round us

As if to bring us cheer!

 

Mark them present in our hearts.

We'll meet some other day.

There is no death, but life eterne

For our old friend such as they!

 

Miranda Denise Adams

Christopher David Breen

Michael Stephen Ebanks

Jeremy Richard Frampton

Jamie Lynn Hand

Christopher Lee Heard

Lucas John Kimmel

Bryan Allen McClain

Chad Anthony Powell

Jerry Don Self

Nathan Scott West

Timothy Doran Kerlee, Jr.

 

As I listened, I cried.  I will always remember the reaction of one man when Mrs. Kerlee was giving the role call.  I do not remember the name called, but after the full name issued from Mrs. Kerlee's lips, a Cadet “locked it up” and shouted, "Right here, sir!"  His voice shook with sobs.  The agony and power and loyalty in his voice rocked me.  Tears streamed in currents down my cheek.  When Mrs. Kerlee called Nathan West's name, I remembered being awakened by the Cocks running past the dorms on the first morning of classes.  I remembered their rebellious shout, "Gotta be quiet 'cause the dorms don't like it!" at 6:30 a.m. and watching their red shirts flash by.  I realized that Nathan never had the chance to give me that morning wakeup shout.  Finally, I called "Here!" for Tim, whom I never had the privilege of knowing but felt I knew somewhat through his mother's stories.

           

We then sang hymns such as "Amazing Grace" quietly and Don, Becky, and I sang "The Spirit of Aggieland".  Mrs. Kerlee also spoke a few scriptures.

           

At 3:30 a.m., Don and Becky and I slowly turned out of the crowd and walked over the uneven ground back to our respective dorms.  When we left, over 200 people still remained.

* * *

            As I write this, I now realize how much pain and suffering is still fresh and unhealed in the heart of this University.  A full two years after 12 of its children were so violently ripped away from it, A&M still openly bleeds.  I ask that you keep this university and its people in your prayers daily.  There is much healing yet to occur before we are whole again.  Thank you!

 

Sincerely,

Alycia C. Zuehlke '05