Command Sgt. Maj. James Blankenbecler
Freedom Quilts Heroes
Betty made this Freedom Quilt for Mrs. Blankenbecler. It was presented to her during Freedom Quilts’ trip to Ft Hood, Tx.
One of Linnie Blankenbecler’s biggest fears when she heard that her husband had died in Iraq was that no one but the family would be present to honor him at his new home. She quickly found out that this Army community and the active-duty ranks are a close-knit family.
“I’m so grateful for their support, for all their giving, for all their graciousness. I could not have done this without them,” Linnie said. “When I first heard about this, we’ve only been here like a month and a half and my concern was: Oh my God, who’s going to come to his funeral because I didn’t realize that the Army was so big like this and that they come together.”
Linnie’s husband, Command Sgt. Maj. James Blankenbecler, was killed Oct. 1 when his convoy was attacked in Samara. Blankenbecler had been assigned to the 4th Infantry Division’s 1st Battalion, 44th Air Defense Artillery at Fort Hood in mid-August after graduating in May from the nine-month Command Sergeants Major Academy at Fort Bliss. The division has been in Iraq since late March for a yearlong tour.
Linnie said her husband was scheduled to report to his unit in Iraq on Sept. 1, but had delayed his departure a couple of weeks to ensure his family was settled in their military quarters on Fort Hood. The day before he died, the 40-year-old Arlington, Va., native wrote his wife two letters. “He told me that he was going on the road again tomorrow and that he was going to one of the ugliest places that he has,” Linnie said.
As with earlier visits to his unit’s outlying areas, Blankenbecler was torn between doing his duty and putting his soldiers at risk, Linnie said. “I told you that I wanted to do what my soldiers are doing,” Blankenbecler wrote. “But it is so hard that every time I leave this place, it’s a major operation making sure that I have the right security and stuff. That every time I move, it affects six soldiers that have nothing to do with what I have to do and I hate that. But I have to move around the battlefield.”
But while he cared deeply for his people, Linnie said her husband, who had signed up for the Army in 1983, had little patience for sloppiness such as wrinkled uniforms or dirty boots. “He just couldn’t believe a soldier wouldn’t wear a uniform with pride,” said Linnie, a former Army brat. “He never put up with it.” Out of uniform, Blankenbecler would never let a sneeze go unblessed, a door unopened for his wife and daughters, if they would let him. A gesture was always received with a thankyou. “My husband was very serious; he was a very serious man,” Linnie said. “But when he found something funny, it would just like be so amazing to see him laugh so hard that it would just put you in tears, you were laughing so hard. “He loved his golf. He loved his family, he loved me and man, he loved those (Washington) Redskins,” said Linnie of her husband’s favorite football team.
Blankenbecler’s passing has left his wife and three children with mixed emotions. “Losing someone is awful,” said Joseph Morales, his 20-year-old son. “But if God had to take my dad, I wouldn’t have had it any other way.” Noting the intense pride that Blankenbecler had in his military service, Morales said the battlefield would have been his choice of places to die. “I’m thankful for that, as much as I hate that he’s gone,” Morales said.
Linnie and James met while he was stationed at Fort Bliss. Recovering from a tough period, Linnie had not been out in two years when she agreed to go to a club with her friend. They hadn’t been there long when James approached her. “He said, ‘What’s a beautiful woman like you doing in a place like this?’ ” said Linnie smiling at the memory. Getting past that unoriginal opening line, Linnie saw a depth of character in the man who would become her husband after he returned to Fort Bliss following a nine-month assignment. “He was a beautiful man,” Linnie said. “He was what my son described as a savior to this family. He had come into a family that was broken and he was willing to take on my mom, who was terminally ill, and take on my children from a previous marriage.”
The transition was not easy. Daughter Amanda, now 23, said she and her brother initially resisted him. “It was hard for me to accept him as a father,” she said, adding that she also resented the moves that her mother’s marriage to the military entailed. But, in the end, the two older children accepted their new father, and Amanda had Blankenbecler and her real father walk her down the aisle for her marriage to Willy Villalobos six months ago. “I realized that he was the best thing that could have happened to us,” she said. “His children always came first, his family always came first, no matter what.” Linnie and 14-year-old Jessica Blankenbecler, the couple’s youngest child, have been assured by Fort Hood officials that they can remain longer than the 90 days usually given to the families in government quarters once their loved one has passed on. The extension will allow Jessica to finish her freshman year at Shoemaker High School.
After that, Linnie said she was thinking about returning to Hawaii, a place where the couple had been. “My heart says Hawaii because we both wanted to retire there. We loved the way it felt. I loved the way I felt there,” Linnie said. “I don’t know if it will be as easy to live there as a civilian.”
As an avid golfer, Linnie said one of her husband’s wishes had been to have some of his ashes left in the 18th hole of the Leilehua golf course. As a former employee, Linnie said she is hoping she can make that happen. Linnie said a full military memorial and funeral service is planned for her husband at 10 a.m. on Oct. 16 in the Killeen Civic and Convention Center. A CD will be played during the ceremony of a song recorded by her son, titled “Remember Me.”
Blankenbecler will be cremated and laid to rest at Punch Bowl National Cemetery in Hawaii. Crawford-Bowers Funeral Home in Killeen is handling funeral arrangements. Linnie was told that the home is not charging her for the cremation. A memorial fund also has been established for the children. Contributions can be sent to Memorial Fund for children of Command Sgt. Maj. James Blankenbecler, Fort Hood National Bank, P.O. Box 5000, Fort Hood, Texas 76544.
Jessica Blankenbecler, 14, e-mailed this final letter to her father, Command Sgt. Maj. James Blankenbecler, at 1:29 a.m. on Friday, Oct. 3., two days after he was killed in a convoy in Samara, Iraq.
Hi Daddy, Sorry I haven’t written to you in a while. A lot of things have been going on. I miss you so much. How have you been? Is heaven everything it says it is? I know it’s probably that and more. I can’t wait ’till I can come join you again. I miss you so much — just being here for me to hold your hand and you calling me “princess.” But one day we can do this again. But it will be even better because Jesus will be with us.
I keep going in your office to see all your things and your awards that you have gotten over the years. You accomplished so much. I am proud you were my daddy; I would not have chosen anyone else. I like to go into your closet, too and just touch and smell all your clothes … it gives me so many memories that I miss so much.
Sitting at this table I see your writing on a little piece of paper telling me and mom what e-mail and address in Iraq to write to you … CSM JAMES D. BLANKENBECLER, 1-44 ADA. I love to just look at your handwriting so much.
I have your military ring on right now. It’s kind of big for my little finger, but it makes me feel you’re holding my hand when I have it on … It’s been on since we found out the news. I have your driver’s license with me, too, so I can just look at you whenever I want. You have a little smile this time. When we went to get them done in El Paso I asked you to just smile this time … and you did it just for me. I also was looking at your car keys and that little brown leather pouch you always had on your key chain. It made me cry a lot when I picked it up. Everything reminds me of you so much. When we pass by Chili’s I remember you sitting across from me eating your favorite salad. You always told the waiter to take off the little white crunchy things … because you hated them. And when we drive by billboards that say “An Army of One,” it makes me remember you in your military uniform. How you always made a crunching sound when you walked, and how you shined your big boots every night before you went to bed. I miss seeing that all the time. Little things that I took for granted when you were here seem priceless now.
One thing that I regret is when you wanted to open my car door for me, but I always got it myself. I wish I would have let you do it. And when you wanted to hold my hand, I sometimes would pull away because I didn’t want people to see me holding my daddy’s hand … I feel so ashamed that I cared what people thought of me walking down the parking lot holding your hand. But now I would give anything just to feel the warmth of your hand holding mine. I can’t believe this has happened to my daddy … the best daddy in the whole world.
It feels so unreal, like you’re still in Iraq. You were only there for 17 days. Why did they have to kill you? Why couldn’t they know how loved you are here? Why couldn’t they know? You have so many friends that love you with all their hearts and you affected each and every person you have met in your lifetime. Why couldn’t they know? When I get shots at the hospital I won’t have my daddy’s thumb to hold tight. Why couldn’t they know I loved for you to call me “princess”? Why couldn’t they know if they killed you I would not have a daddy to walk me down the aisle when I get married? Why couldn’t they know all this? Why? I know that you are gone now, but it only means that I have another angel watching over me for the rest of my life. That’s the only way I can think of this being good. There is no other way I can think of it. All the kids at my school know about your death. They even had a moment of silence for you at our football game. A lot of my teachers came over to try to comfort me and mom. They all ask if they can get us anything, but the only thing anyone can do is give me my daddy back … and I don’t think anyone can do that. You always told me and mom you never wanted to die in a stupid way like a car accident or something like that. And you really didn’t die in a stupid way … you died in the most honorable way a man like you could — protecting me, mom, Joseph, Amanda and the rest of the United States.
In the Bible it says everyone is put on this earth for a purpose, and once they accomplished this you can return to Jesus. I did not know at first what you did so soon to come home to God. But I thought about it — you have done everything. You have been the best husband, father, son and soldier in the world. And everyone knows this. One of my teachers called me from El Paso and told me that when her dad died he always told her, “when you walk outside the first star you see is me.” She told me that it is the same for me and you. I needed to talk to you last night, and I walked outside and looked up … and I saw the brightest star in the sky. I knew that was you right away, because you are now the brightest star in heaven.
I love you so much, daddy. Only you and I know this. Words can’t even begin to show how much. But I tried to tell you in this letter, just a portion of my love for you. I will miss you, daddy, with all of my heart. I will always be your little girl and I will never forget that…
I love you daddy, I will miss you!!
P.S. I have never been so proud of my last name.
Sunrise – June 27, 1963
Sunset – October 1, 2003