FN Blog - Seven heads are better than one!

I have a cousin who was sent to Iraq. His name is Cedric. Growing up, I remember him as being a very quiet, shy sorta kid. We never really got to hang out; among my cousins, who were all about my age, Cedric seemed a bit too young for us older cousins, and a bit too old for the younger ones. I remember that my brothers and other cousins would kid him about a table he had made for carpentry class, the joke being that Don Bosco was the School Where You Learned To Make Tables. It lasted for years. (Although I secretly wished that I had carpentry class in high school. No such luck in the all-girls school I went to.)

I was closer to his older sister Popay. One time, hanging out at their home, I chanced upon his room while he wasn’t there. There I found, to my delight, that we shared something in common: he liked to make things too! His room was full of the telltale signs of a born tinkerer: tools scattered about, half-finished projects, random appliances and electrical devices taken apart. I never really got to talk to him about our shared interest, except for one time, when I asked him where he got his drill and how much it was. I never really got to talk to him much at all.

My aunt, Cedric and Popay’s mom, went to the States and remarried; soon Cedric and Popay followed. He left in 2002, 20 years old, and we held a little despedida for him, not knowing when we’d see him again.

Over the years, bits and pieces about Cedric would filter in, usually through e-mail or from US-based relatives on the odd visit back home. I heard he joined the National Guard; which, according to Wikipedia, is a reserve forces component of the United States Army. News of his graduation came a few years later. Shy, quiet Cedric, a soldier! Who would’ve thought? And then the news: he had been deployed to Iraq. I remember my initial reaction of shock, and even confusion. What was he doing there? He didn’t even grow up in the States; what was he doing defending it?

In Iraq

Even in Iraq, his abilities made him stand out: aside from the fact that he was the lone Filipino among the 700 of them. He became known as a kind of MacGyver in his troop, the one they would go to if their digital cameras broke down. One time, an e-mail from his sergeant was forwarded to our family e-group: “You know Specialist Ranada? He is one of my favorite guys! He’s a very smart kid, he has created an electrical device for us to better understand some of the enemy’s weapons used against us. None of us understand how he can just throw some complicated wiring with a circuit board together, very smart kid.” I’m sure we all beamed silently in front of our computers. I know I did.

Then came the news, just last week. Cedric was home! He had come for a 2 week-long visit with his fiancé. There was to be a party at our house: thanksgiving mass, dinner; and a surprise announcement.

Cedric had been awarded a Purple Heart and a Commendation Medal with Valor. It was the first time we’d heard anything about it. The details were sketchy: something about him driving a Hummer. On the day of the party, we talked about it as we waited for him to arrive. When he walked through the door, he was greeted with a round of cheers, handshakes, hugs, and pats on the back, from cousins, uncles and aunts, as he introduced his fiancé to us.

We sat him down, gathered around, and made him tell us What Happened.

My uncle, my dad, Cedric, his fiancé, my aunt, and me.

He had been stationed at the Iraq-Kuwait border. One of his tasks there had been to drive the military Hummers, escorting a convoy of about 40 vehicles bringing supplies to Cedar Station, a four-hour drive away. This convoy was led by four Hummers, and each would take turns at the lead.

On that day, almost exactly a year ago as he told us the story on August 18, 2007, he had been one of the drivers. And it was his turn at the lead of the convoy, driving down an endless stretch of highway in the desert.

Then he saw it. The weapon on the road. The Iraqis fashion improvised explosive devices and leave them on the road, to be triggered by passing vehicles. It was an EFP, short for “explosively formed penetrator”, also known as an “explosively formed projectile”. They’re made out of commonly available metal pipes, with explosives inside and the end enclosed by a concave metal dish. When detonated, the metal dish is compressed and squeezed forward, forming a projectile of molten metal which can travel as fast as 10 kilometers per second. Fully capable of piercing a tank. What more a Hummer?

He swerved just as it detonated, launching deadly pieces of molten metal into the truck. In an instant, he told us, he was in hell. He was enveloped in flames. The engine and gun turret had been hit. He suffered burns to the side of his face and arms; the guy riding shotgun took a shrapnel hit to the eye. The more seriously injured were helicoptered away.

As he told us this, a sudden moment of realization hit hard: how close he was to dying, how he could so easily not have been there, on a couch in our home beside his fiancé, recounting his story. How, instead, we could have been attending a mass for someone we’d lost. Then the relief and gratitude flooded in, making you whisper a silent thank you to the Big Guy, for the sheer blessing of being alive. That a slug of molten metal or a piece of shrapnel didn’t have my cousin’s name on it.

His medal of commendation award reads: “This is to certify that the Secretary of the Army has awarded the Army Commendation Medal with Valor to Specialist Cedric T. Ranada, Charlie Company, 1st Battalion, 121st Field Artillery. For outstanding valor while serving as a convoy security driver during Operation Iraqi freedom. Specialist Ranada ensured the continuation of the mission and the safety of his team. His spotting of the improvised explosive device and skillful maneuvering of the gun truck greatly reduced the potential of a fatality. Specialist Ranada’a actions helped save the life of his truck commander and bring great credit upon himself, the 336th transportation group, the 337th theater support command, and the United States Army. From 18 August 2006 to 18 August 2006, given this 10th day of February 2007”

The Purple Heart is awarded to those who are wounded or killed in battle; thank God he received it for the former. These medals and awards given to Cedric are a great source of pride for his family and to us, his relatives. To the United States, he’s a hero; to me, he’s still the same shy cousin and clever guy, and heck I’m just glad he’s alive. All the same, I must say this:

Hey Cedric. You are THE MAN! Love, your cousin Genie.