Well Done, John.

Today is my Memorial Day.

I remember being in that huge auditorium, hugging my parents, trying not to be the last one through the double doors where a slew of upperclassmen were waiting to bark orders at me.

At 18, I was really only slightly aware of what was going on in the world but I thought I knew enough to be confident that this was the life for me.

I got my head shaved, I went through all the screenings, got my huge glasses (which have surprisingly come back in style), and rushed from one station to another as more upperclassmen barked and yelled and started the process of turning me into a cadet.

After marching past our parents, this time with bald heads and unable to even give them a wave, we stood with our backs against the wall of our new home for the summer.

It was then that I met John Runkle for the first time.

Slight in stature, maybe 5'8", he walked with a confidence that wasn't haughty or condescending. Even though we had been yelled at to the point of panic most of the day, there was an ease as John walked up and down the hall. Somehow, we knew he had our best interest at heart.

For six weeks, he led us.

And when the academic year started, he continued to lead and mentor us.

Never one to get loud, John had a way of getting the best out of us without yelling or belittling. He wanted us to succeed and we wanted to succeed for him.

When he graduated, he joined the infantry and by all accounts was one of the best Platoon Leaders in the 101st. He was selected to lead a Pathfinder platoon with 159th Combat Aviation Brigade; a coveted position for young LTs.

Fifteen years ago today, he lost his life while leading his men on a patrol in Kandahar.

One of the best people I've ever known, doing what he was great at: leading.

In my time in the Army, I had a lot of bosses but very few leaders.

John was one of them.

I'll see you on Fiddler's Green, sir.

Well Done.