I am a runner. I’ve been running since I was 14-years-old. I’ve competed in high school, college, and the Master’s road racing levels. My proudest moment so far as a runner was finally completing my first full marathon in Houston, especially considering that several years prior, I almost died as a result of a broken leg and blood clots in my lungs that I sustained during a race.

What does any of this have to do with Gamberi, Afghanistan? Not a lot and plenty. The attack on Forward Operating Base Gamberi April 16, 2011, happened on the morning of the Bagram Boston Marathon. The irony of a terrorist attack on the world’s most famous marathon one year ago in the United States was not lost to me, because of what had happened two years prior.

I was the Public Affairs Officer for the 101st Sustainment Brigade, assigned to Bagram Airfield. Our brigade’s Special Troops Battalion, “The Sustainers” was the main logistical unit on FOB Gamberi. I had only been there once … less than a week after arriving in country, I flew there to shoot video on the battalion’s Low Cost, Low Altitude training exercise with the Afghan National Army. It was a pretty wide open base and the mountains were very close. It almost felt like a scene from Frank Herbert’s novel, “Dune.”

There was no saluting of officers out there because we did not want the enemy, who were most assuredly hiding in those mountains to know who they were. Nonetheless, our Soldiers and their Afghan counterparts worked very well together side-by-side … or as they say, “Shona Ba Shona.”

The Bagram Boston Marathon started at 1 a.m. Saturday morning. I was out there with the runners ready to take pictures and write an article to send back to Fort Campbell. Several hours and cups of coffee later, the race was compete, and I was ready to head back into my office, write up my story, send it forward and maybe … just maybe … pat myself on the back for having such an easy day.

That didn’t happen.

I recall Col. Michael Peterman, my brigade commander, coming into my office early in the morning. That was something he never did. He looked at me and told me there had been an attack on FOB Gamberi and that Soldiers had been killed and injured. He explained that it appeared to have been a suicide bomber, and that he needed me to get to the Tactical Operation Center to get the information and start drafting any statements or information for release.

He started to walk away, turned around to me and said, “They got Linda.”

Linda was Sgt. Linda Pierre, the commander’s former Administrative NCO, who had been re-assigned to FOB Gamberi from Bagram. I had known her since we first arrived at Fort Campbell. She was a dynamic personality, a good Christian woman who prayed for everyone and was known for her spiritual wisdom. Linda and I had shared lunches together and talked about our Soldiers daily. Prior to deployment, she had met a young man from one of the Infantry units and it looked as though they might have discussed dating. He, however, deployed the summer prior to our leaving and she decided to end things with him … “they’ll be time for that later,” she explained.

Linda had not initially been keen on the idea of going to Gamberi, but once she was there, she embraced it. I remember her writing to me, telling me about how much she really liked it there, and how she felt as though she could make an impact while being there. She was on the career path of going Green to Gold when we would return from deployment, and I had no doubt that she would have made a fine officer.

I never got the chance to tell her that. I had gotten so caught up in work and everything around me that I never responded back to her e-mail. That is the guilt that I can never quite shake, no matter how hard I try.

When Col. Peterman told me Linda had died in the attack, the only thing I could think of was that I had not written her back. And now, I was never going to have the chance to. I also did not have a chance to say goodbye to my other brothers and sisters … Sgt. 1st Class Charles Adkins, Staff Sgt. Cynthia Taylor, Spc. Joseph B. Cemper, Spc. Sonny Moses and Capt. Charles Ridgley.

The 101st Sustainment Brigade did not have the rich history of battle and glory that the other units had when I arrived in July 2009. We were not “Bastogne,” or “Strike,” or the mighty “Rakkasans,” or the legendary “Band of Brothers” themselves, the “Currahees.” We were the “Lifeliners” … the logistical unit, whose mission was to ensure that the Soldiers on the battlefield never went without. Ours, however, was the most crucial. As the most deployed unit on Fort Campbell, we made sure that every ounce of beans, bullets and other supplies reached their destination. Yet, we had never suffered war casualties until that day.

Tears flowed freely that day from all of us. Members of our Family had not only been attacked, but injured or worse. Stories about how the tragedy happened came quickly, as well as stories of the immense bravery of our men and women. Included in the stories was the bravery of our ANA counterparts, who also lost members of their team, but went inside the tent to pull bodies from the site and save those who could be saved.

As the brigade PAO, I had never faced anything like this. There had been Soldiers attached to us from other National Guard or Army Reserve units who had been killed on the road during convoy missions. But this was hard because it was very personal. They killed my friends. People I had known and trained with. Maintaining emotions and doing the job was the most difficult aspect of the entire ordeal.

Colonel Peterman assembled us later that evening and talked to us. He lamented our losses, but what he did next was the mark of a true leader. He said that although the enemy might have gotten us at that moment, they would not crush our spirit. He asked for volunteers to go to FOB Gamberi and carry on the mission that our fallen Soldiers were assigned to do. It didn’t even take 15 minutes to get our replacements identified. They were flown out the following morning.

Colonel Peterman at that moment reminded us that to not head back there was to let the enemy know they had rattled us. We were not about to give them that satisfaction. Yes, they hurt us, but they ultimately did not defeat us. The partnership between the “Lifeliners,” the Special Troops Battalion “Sustainers” and the ANA was stronger than ever. The new Sustainment Brigade Combat Patch that we wore into our deployment took on a significantly new meaning. There was blood on the patch … the blood of our brothers and sisters … and to not wear it now would dishonor their memory.

We conducted our memorial ceremony, sent our fallen home, and continued our year-long mission to its completion. This group of Soldiers returned home different than the previous Lifeliners. We’ve always understood war, but we finally understood loss in war.

There are a few of us left here at Fort Campbell who were part of the Sustainment Brigade during that deployment. We’ve gathered together for the past two years to remember our brothers and sisters at the Lifeliners memorial. We’ll gather again for this one as well. Our history and legacy might not be more glamorous than the other units, but it is no less important. Gamberi is our testament to that.