By Michael Eng | Managing Editor
Tammy Secor still has the pillowcase. And sometimes, when the reality of it all is too much to bear, she brings it close. It’s the pillowcase on which her son, U.S. Army Pfc. Ben Secor, rested his head the night before he left for a nine-month tour in Afghanistan.
It still smells like him.
Tammy is pretty sure her son would turn beet red at the thought. But, it doesn’t matter. She’s his mother. It’s her job to embarrass him from time to time.
Although Ben won’t return until Christmas, Tammy keeps a room for him at their Plant City home. It’s decorated with a plethora of patriotic antiques and knickknacks. A pillow with Ben’s photo printed on it sits in the middle of the bed. The photo was taken in July 2011, near the end of boot camp. He looks pensive, determined. His face is thick, his jaw strong. But, he’s only 20 years old.
By contrast, a framed photo from the beginning of boot camp is on the night table. It had only been three months earlier, but Ben’s face is much thinner, his expression a cocktail of curiosity, questions and maybe even a little fear.
Ben’s favorite clothes — Wrangler jeans and hunting T-shirts — are folded neatly inside the dresser. The Go Army sticker he affixed to the back of the door remains right where he left it.
“He put that up there even before he knew he was in,” Tammy says. “I couldn’t take it down.”
It doesn’t matter. Tammy’s his mom. It’s her job to be sentimental.
And out in the garage, Ben’s pride and joy — the 1973 Ford pickup he loves with his heart and soul — is waiting just where he left it. Tammy opens the driver door but has to turn away. She hasn’t looked inside since Ben left. It’s just too much.
Yes, Tammy says, there are plenty of sleepless nights. Plenty of anxiety. Plenty of pain. But she — and every member of Ben’s loving family — knows Ben is doing exactly what he wanted for his life. Even as a boy in elementary school, he was enamored with military service. And the path he navigated from Plant City to Afghanistan was so long, so fraught with roadblocks, that Tammy’s heart swells at her son’s accomplishments.
“We are just so unbelievably proud of him,” she says. “Words can’t describe how proud.”
After all, Tammy is Ben’s mom. It’s her job to support his dreams.
FINE YOUNG AMERICAN
Ben was only in the fifth grade on Sept. 11, 2001. In the days that followed, he kept telling his family — Tammy, father Dan, and older sisters Rachael Kerr and Rebecca Dellar — that he wanted to do something. Had to do something.
But, the family says Ben’s infatuation with the military dates back to even before 9/11. He loved his G.I. Joe toys. Both of his grandfathers had served in the military, and his great-uncle earned a Purple Heart in Vietnam. After finishing his high school coursework as a home-schooled student, the military was the only path he sought.
“I decided to serve our country, because it’s something I had always wanted to do growing up — ever since I was old enough to walk,” Ben wrote in an interview through Facebook. “I knew if I got older and didn’t do it, I would regret it. … I just got the calling to do it.”
However, because his diploma was granted by an out-of-state school, the military would not recognize it. So, he enrolled in Hillsborough Community College and completed 15 credit hours in one semester. He checked back with the recruiter often — sometimes daily — for the latest update.
Finally, Ben reported for basic training in Fort Benning, Ga., on April 11, 2011, and graduated July 29, 2011.
Tammy will never forget that day.
“I wanted to hug each and every one of those boys,” she says. “I see them, and I think about their mothers and families.”
Following basic training, Ben reported to Fort Carson, Colo., and was assigned to the Fourth Brigade Fourth Infantry Division Brigade Special Troops Battalion. He then volunteered for a Personal Security Detachment team.
“Every week, we would train on battle drills, react to contact, radios, optics, driving training and handling weapons,” Ben says. “Then, in October, we went to Joint Readiness Training Center in Louisiana for more advanced training.”
At JTRC, Ben was chosen to be Brig. Sgt. Maj. Kevin Griffin’s personal security detachment. Essentially, he’s Griffin’s bodyguard. And, it seems Ben is particularly good at his job.
Wrote Griffin on Facebook: “This young man protects me everywhere I go in Afghanistan. Fine young American.”
‘SEE YOU LATER’
Ben stayed up with sisters Kerr and Dellar all night the evening before he left for Afghanistan. It was mostly small talk — reminiscing about their days growing up. None of them wanted the night to end.
These days, Ben clings to those memories.
“The memories I remember most were growing up right at home,” he says. “It’s where my dad taught me to shoot, fish and hunt. I remember those long summer days going next door to my grandma’s pond and going fishing and playing with my cousins. When it got too hot, we would jump in her pond to cool off and then go across the street to the strawberry fields and pick strawberries. We would eat so many of them that our stomachs would hurt.
“Then on weekends, our family would get together and eat steak and gravy at my grandma’s house,” Ben says.
When Ben was just an infant, Dellar would climb into his crib as his “protector.” After all, he was the baby boy. And that was the dynamic the siblings carried through childhood.
But, the family says, war has changed all of that.
“He’s older; his face is chiseled,” Tammy says. “He’s not the little boy who left.”
The sisters agree.
“He’s the one reassuring us these days,” Kerr says. “We lean on him now.”
Earlier this year, Dellar began a boot camp exercise program — one designed to push a person to his or her limits physically and mentally. Understandably nervous on the first day, she wore an Army shirt Ben had given to her for inspiration.
“He always told me, ‘Your mind will give up before your body will,’” she says. “When it gets hard, I just think of what he’s doing over there, and it spurs me on.”
Through Facebook, Ben is able to keep in touch with his family regularly. When they chat, Dellar snaps a photo of everyone and sends it to Ben, so he can see what they look like at that exact moment. Sometimes, Ben is even able to video chat with the family — something Tammy hasn’t yet mustered up the courage to do. You can’t hug a computer screen. And Ben is still a world away.
“We just wanted to hang on every word,” Kerr says of that last night with her brother. “And at the end, we didn’t say, ‘Good-bye.’ We said, ‘See you later.’”
REALITY OF WAR
Ben doesn’t share much about his actual work with his family. And that’s probably for the best.
“He just says he’s going on missions,” Dellar says.
But, as personal security detachment, Ben’s missions involve a plethora of situations.
“We travel all over Afghanistan in our area of operation to different forward operating bases to check on all the soldiers and go on patrols with them from time to time,” he says. “And we also do key leader engagements in villages and with governors — to try to reason with them.”
The sobering reality of war hit Ben the second day he was in Afghanistan.
“We took indirect fire,” he remembers. “I was in the gym, and I heard a loud boom. I knew it was close and that the second one couldn’t be very far behind it.
“The gym was just a tent, so I took off,” Ben says. “Right next to the gym was a bunker, so I ran into it. I was halfway in it and halfway out of it when the second one hit. … It was close enough that I could hear the whistle from the mortar.
“One day, we went to another forward operating base near FOB Fenty Jalalabad,” he says. “We all hopped into some Afghan army vehicles and started rolling out to go talk to some people from the Afghan army nearby.
“We just started to take off when, all of a sudden, we heard, ‘Boom!’ The Taliban blew a hole into our wall and were trying to overrun us,” he says. “There were six of them, (and) they had AK47s and were throwing grenades.
“They just keep shooting, (and) we shot back,” Ben says. “We ran into a concrete-type building. I pulled security, and we let the helicopters take the rest of them out. Then, as soon as we got the word of all-clear, we hauled back to the helicopter landing zone and got out of there.”
Through it all, Ben keeps a family photo with him at all times, along with a photo of his girlfriend.
“I pull them out when times get rough,” he says. “I (also) have a certain letter on me that my parents wrote me while I was in basic. It has a lot of meaning to me and words of encouragement.”
HALFWAY HOME
In April, Ben posted a photo on Facebook of some wildflowers he found in a valley in Afghanistan. He tagged his mother, along with a note: “Thought you would like these.”
Tammy wipes tears from her eyes.
“I have my days,” she says. “But I know we can’t get too down — he’s worked so hard to get where he is, and we just need to keep encouraging him. He’s really grown up in the last year.”
Kerr agrees.
“His outlook on life is different,” she says. “He appreciates life today instead of living for tomorrow.”
Ben is scheduled to return home by Christmas. In addition to his parents and siblings, Ben’s extended family, including his aunt, Karen Secor, four nieces and several cousins can’t wait until their soldier is back in Plant City, back where he belongs. The family has no grand plans for elaborate celebrations or vacations. Instead, they’ll give their hero just what he’s been missing the most: a healthy dose of family love and life at home in Plant City.
“They have always been there for me through everything,” Ben says of his family. “I couldn’t be doing what I am doing without them. I love them to death.”
Contact Michael Eng at meng@plantcityobserver.com.
HOMETOWN HEROES
Hometown Heroes is a new feature in the Plant City Observer in which we profile veterans from Plant City. If you have a loved one currently serving or who has served in the past, please contact Managing Editor Michael Eng by email at meng@plantcityobserver.com or by phone at 704-6850.