'Voices of the Fallen': Reporting the Story

Catharine Skipp, Miami Bureau
Even after 27 years, it is always difficult to call a stranger to ask about their dead child or spouse. I don't know if it's harder for me now having an 18-year-old son at home but it pretty much sucks. I pray that I'll get an answering machine because getting a mother or wife on a cold call, even when some time has passed, feels like you've just punched them in the stomach. At least with a voice mail, they have some time to collect themselves before calling back, if they wish.

More often than not, the mothers cry, sometimes fathers, too. Yeah, not professional at all but I do too but usually not until I've hung up. Almost always though, we laugh as well. One mother and I laughed about her son complaining that someone ate his Golden Grahams cereal he was in the middle of during a mortar attack—milk and all. I ended up calling a grief counselor a couple of weeks ago. Saying "I'm so sorry for your loss" or some variation sounds so phony and insincere to me but I feel like you have to say something to acknowledge their sorrow. She gave me some guidance and afterwards I felt more like maybe I wasn't exacerbating their grief, at least.

I have worked on a few other projects that involved calling the families of military dead but never this many—139. Logistically, this one was made more difficult by having to mine lists of war dead and try not to duplicate any other reporters' calls. Even when I did, the families were understanding and kind.

e were asking these families to go pull out the storage boxes and go through them to help us for a story. Many times I felt like I was tearing off skin from a wound that had just started to heal. Sad mothers would call on Monday mornings after spending their weekend sorting and reading letters. It has been extremely humbling when a family has the faith to entrust me with their most sacred memories.

The number of families willing to send us their letters and e-mails surprised me. Only two people hung up on me and one of them called me later and sent letters. Two mothers had died within weeks or months of their sons. One fiancée found out about another girlfriend through the postings on a memorial site. (The fiancée offered to sell us her story of "their amazing love".) I met some wonderful parents through the calls—Tracy Miller who teaches a college course on the history of the 60s and now struggles through the Vietnam War section. Dr. Fran DiDomenicis who is so grateful for the project. And the Cliftons who are publishing a book of their son's e-mails, letters, stories and text messages unfiltered.

So much of our job is talking to people on one of the worst day of their lives and walking away unscathed. Some stories are always going to stick on you for a while so I was prepared for my tears and feeling their heartache—my son has gotten lots of hugs and kisses the past month. I wasn't at all prepared for the dreams of dead soldiers and nightmares of battles that have begun to haunt my sleep after seeing their war through their words.