Luke A. McQueen

A letter to my beloved son
If you love your Son's please repost

AMEN 🙏

Bastogne payday activities 🦅♣️

What do you think about the Army Green Service Uniform (AGSU)?

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Always have this in your mind God bless you all for your service and prayers we love you 🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸

Never stop praying for the safety of those who are awake for your peace of mind God bless you all 🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸

Thank you all for your service we love you so much 🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸

God bless the United States of America military we love you all 🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸

God bless the United States of America 🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸

He Made Everyone Laugh—Until His Dog Came Home Without Him

We all called him Reese, even though his full name was Staff Sergeant Jonathan Reese Mitchell. “Staff Sergeant” always sounded too formal, too grown-up for someone like him. He was only 24.

Reese was the kind of guy who could make you laugh in the middle of a sandstorm. Always pulling goofy faces in selfies, always talking to his dog, Tank, like they were old college roommates. In a way, they were—wherever Reese went, Tank was right beside him. Big black Lab, trained for detection but pampered like a firstborn. Tank didn’t take orders from anyone else—not even the CO. Just Reese.

I remember the day they left for their second deployment. Reese unclasped his watch and handed it to me with a crooked smile.
“Hold onto this,” he said. “If it stops ticking… you’ll know I’m running late for something.

That damn thing’s still ticking.

We got word a week before Tank showed up.

He came back escorted by another Marine—muzzle loose, tail dragging like the weight of the world was on his back. I swear to God, that dog knew. He walked straight into the memorial tent, nose to the ground, made a beeline for Reese’s boots… then sat right in front of the photo, like he was waiting to hear someone laugh and say,
“Relax. He’s right behind you.”

But no one said anything.

The room was full, yet somehow hollow. Silent—until Tank let out this low, aching whine that cracked something inside all of us. Men who had faced fire without blinking suddenly had tears streaking down their faces.

It was a napkin. Folded twice. And written on it, in Reese’s unmistakable scrawl:

“If you’re reading this, it means I’m not being the punctual pain in the ass I promised I’d always be.
Tell Tank he was a good boy.
Tell Mom I danced at her birthday party in my head.
And tell you—yeah, you reading this—that I didn’t regret a damn second.
Not the sand, not the noise, not even the broccoli MREs.
Because I got to stand beside people I’d give anything for.
And I did.
Smile for me, alright? Just once more.
And then go live the hell out of your life.

It wasn’t signed.

It didn’t have to be.

🩺 From March 31 to April 4, senior leaders from MEDDAC Bavaria supported 7th ATC/CAT-C as guest instructors during the first-ever Delayed Evacuation Casualty Management (DECM) course.

Over five days, 16 medical personnel Soldiers completed 640 hours of training, covering 81 critical medical tasks across 16 lesson plans. The course combined classroom and hands-on instruction focused on preventing the lethal triad of coagulopathy, acidosis, and hypothermia.

DECM enhances medical readiness by challenging medics to think beyond TCCC and integrate nursing care to improve long-term outcomes and increase survivability in prolonged field care scenarios.

May God bless every service member, the U.N. military, and our beloved United States of America. May He keep them safe, give them strength, and bring them home to their families.

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