[Archives] Jesse Melton III, RIP
Remembering my friend
(GCV 6 Note: We will be publishing memorials all week in the run-up to Memorial Day)
I didn’t know Jesse very well nor for very long. I believe we served together for maybe three or four months. However, in that short amount of time, he changed my life.
On September 9, 2008, the Taliban and Al Qaeda killed CPT Jesse Melton III, 1Lt Nicholas Madrazo, Navy Corpsman Eichman Stickland, and a local national interpreter in the Nijrab Valley, Kapisa Province, Afghanistan. Jesse served as a company team leader with an embedded training team (ETT) responsible for training the Afghan National Army, specifically the 201st Corps.
Jesse was a prototypical Marine, always leading from the front. He was often in the turret, manning the 240B, usually reserved for junior enlisted. On 9 September, Jesse wasn’t supposed to go out. It was his day off. But, always the leader, he replaced a Marine on the mission. Two days later, Jesse was dead, but his Marine’s child was born. His sacrifice ensured that the child had a father.
In those three or four months, I learned more about combat leadership from him than anyone else. Although we had both served in Iraq previously, Jesse was an infinitely better leader than me. We were both support specialists (him a comms officer and me an intel weenie), but we both felt at home fighting at the edges of the American empire. He taught me to lead from the front and always be decisive, especially when you have doubts, because doubts create panic, and panic creates death.
Jesse, however, never panicked. Why?
Jesse believed. Not everyone did or does anymore (and who can blame them). But Jesse believed in the mission and was very comfortable giving his life for his men and his country. He was that type of man, leader, and Marine.
Nobody who served in Nijrab in 2008 had illusions about what faced them. Every time we broke a wire, we all understood it was only a matter of time before our luck ran out.
That’s because, like most Afghan provinces, there was only one way in and one way out of most valleys. So, when Jesse broke wire on 9 September, he didn’t think he would be killed, but he was prepared for it, spiritually at least.
His faith was much stronger than mine, something we talked about frequently. Jesse’s Christian faith kept him resilient, while my Jewish faith kept me questioning everything. Despite our many differences, he liked the Washington Redskins (boo), and we shared a great friendship. While our troops would get into mischief, Jesse and I often played cards, complained about the food, and tried to figure out a way to extend the reach of the Afghan government into hostile terrain.
Despite all the odds against us, Jesse never doubted our mission. It was contagious and something I desperately needed as a born pessimist.
“Stop complaining in front of your troops, Will. " He would always add, “Nobody wants a leader who doesn’t believe.”
On 11 September 2008, we conducted a memorial service for him at FOB Nijrab. The ANA and some district government officials attended. Taps was played. Men wept openly. Myself very much included. It was one of the most poignant memorials I’ve ever attended.
Some Afghan officers spoke passionately about Jesse’s leadership. Then, like I’ve done countless times, we took turns kneeling before his boots, rifle, and dog tags. The Afghans shuffled in behind the Marines and other Americans to pay their respects to a cherished leader.
Now, twelve years later, there are days I still cannot believe that Jesse is dead. I still miss him and wish he were here now, giving me invaluable advice.
May his memory be a blessing to his family, friends, and fellow Marines.