By Kelsey Braga
The boys squinted and rubbed their eyes as the loud ringing of the tiny alarm clock woke them.
It was 6 a.m.
Private First Class Tyler Andrade rose out of bed and prepared himself for the long day ahead.
“Ethan, get up!” Tyler shouted.
The two Pfc.’s had a day fire and a night fire to perform, where they practice their shooting in a range – part of their daily routine while training in Indianapolis, Indiana.
They met up with the 58 other men in the platoon, grabbed their M249s, and began shooting in the open range – a training session that Tyler believed was worse than Afghanistan.
While the men in the platoon mainly focused on their shooting, Tyler and Ethan’s minds were elsewhere. Their platoon would be deploying for Afghanistan the next day.
They finished up their night fire and awaited for morning to arrive.
With Pfc. Tyler in the second platoon and Pfc. Ethan Goncalo in the third, Unit 181 deployed to Afghanistan on the crisp morning in October.
After a plane ride that seemed never-ending, the unit arrived in Afghanistan. Before they knew it, Unit 181’s Platoon Sergeant Brevelari put the men to work.
Pfc. Tyler was placed in Entry Control Point; he and his team would have to search anyone that came onto base and x-ray their vehicles. His cousin, Ethan, was put in Quick Reaction Force (QRF), where he would have to respond to any action around their area.
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The two cousins went about their duties for the next couple of months in Afghanistan. Sergeant Sweeting overlooked Tyler and his team as they performed the proper Entry Control Point duties. Sergeant Lawton advised Ethan and the rest of his team.
The unit was settled in a no-rules range in Kabul, Afghanistan, in the middle of scenic mountains. The days were usually sunny – neither sweltering hot nor bitter cold – much more pleasant than the snowfall piling up in the men’s hometown of Fall River.
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On the morning of December 11, Tyler rolled out of bed, skyped his girlfriend back home, and prepared himself for another day in the Army.
He arrived at the QRF shack in the early morning and hopped into the Humvee – Tyler was to be the gunner for the day. It was 74 and sunny, a temperature that was unexpected, for the forecast last night had predicted a cold day.
A QRF member drove the Humvee out to the range. Tyler took his place at the top of the Humvee where two guns were placed. Tyler keenly picked up the M9 and began his gunner duties, providing fire support.
At approximately 2 p.m. the QRF member drove the Humvee and Tyler back to the QRF shack, with the rest of the Humvees following. As they arrived, Tyler noticed that his entire platoon was there, an unusual sight to see, though Tyler didn’t think too much into it.
We must be having another stupid briefing, Tyler thought.
Tyler hopped off the Humvee and began handing off his weapons. He unstrapped his pistol from his leg, and handed off his M4.
To his surprise, Platoon Sgt. Brevelari began to take the weapons and clear them.
That’s weird, Tyler thought. It wasn’t common for the platoon sergeant to take the weapons.
Once the weapons were clear, Sgt. Brevelari pulled Tyler to the side, in front of a hesco barrier, barriers filled with sand to protect the troops from weapons such as bombs.
Tyler leaned against the barrier to face his sergeant.
“We lost your cousin today,” Sgt. Brevelari told him.
“What?” Tyler asked his sergeant. “Was he hit? Is he on the side of the road…?”
“No. We found him unresponsive,” the sergeant told Tyler.
The sergeant walked Tyler and the other team members to the chaplain.
Tyler, tears rolling down his face, sat down and listened to the priest.
He sat, half listening, and waited impatiently to return to his room where he could be by himself and lay down.
As Tyler arrived at his room, his team leader asked him to hand over his weapons – a precautionary measure Tyler expected.
Tyler then handed over his phone and his laptop. He did not want to be tempted to call his family.
Tyler felt the grief overcoming him. He uncapped a bottle of Nyquil – the cold and flu medicine, high in antihistamine, a sleep inducer. He felt it travel smoothly down his throat and fell asleep.
Hours passed as Tyler fell into a deep sleep. Tyler’s leader woke him later that night to say that they would be putting Ethan’s body on a Blackhawk – a helicopter that would fly him home.
The unit dressed and lined up in formation to see Ethan’s body off, waiting for hours for the Blackhawk to arrive. They could never predict when the helicopter would show up, especially in a combat zone.
After the fourth hour, the men started to break off. It was clear that it would be a while before Ethan’s transportation came. As Tyler solemnly headed back to his room, the sergeant told him that they were trying to get him special escort duty, so that he could fly Ethan home and attend the funeral.
Tyler fell back into a deep sleep. He was awoken at 7 a.m. The Blackhawk was finally arriving. He watched as the old-fashioned, World War II-like ambulance brought out Ethan’s body on the stretcher.
The grey body-bag hugged Ethan’s body so tightly that you could see his facial features.
It hit Tyler. His cousin was gone.
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After days of struggling to attain military orders to fly off base and back to the U.S., Tyler landed in Delaware. The plane with Ethan had also landed. An officer handed Tyler a pen. Tyler was signing for Ethan’s medals and other property.
He also was signing for his body.
When Tyler eventually arrived at Hanscom Airforce Base in Massachusetts with Ethan’s remains, the military lined up in formation. They saluted as Ethan’s casket and his family members made their way down the base to the highway.
As they traveled down the highway, state troopers blocked off every exit. Firefighters stood above the overpasses holding the American flag.
It was the beginning of the farewell.
The wake was held at Ethan’s high school on the brisk afternoon of December 22. Thousands of friends, family members, teachers, and servicemen gathered to pay respects. Scores of people offered condolences to the family.
The funeral was held the next morning at Holy Rosary Church and mourners later gathered at St. Patrick’s Cemetery.
Tyler stood strongly as he watched Ethan’s coffin lowered into the ground.
He did not cry.
Not a tear was shed since he left Afghanistan.
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A week later, Tyler was packing his bags to return to Afghanistan.
As he boarded his plane on the morning of January 3 he felt empty.
He was about to go back without his best friend.
He settled into his seat for the flight out and recalled the anticipation of the first trip to Afghanistan that he once shared with Ethan.
He knew Ethan would be proud.
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