A Memorial Day for the Ones We Never Stop Missing

In memory of those who serve, and the leadership we still need.

Photo by U.S. Army Photographer - U.S. Army 4th Military Information Support Group

I was a young Pentagon public servant on my first deployment, serving in the front office of Ambassador L. Paul Bremer in Baghdad. It was a high-stakes environment, and I was still learning how to navigate it all—how to show up, lead, and stay steady in a war zone that never paused. This deployment would shape my path for years to come. It marked the beginning of my journey to becoming a career intelligence officer, committed to public service and national security.

On that October morning in 2003, I got up earlier than usual. Deputy Secretary of Defense Paul Wolfowitz was visiting, and I wanted to be ahead of schedule. I left my hotel room and headed into the office. Minutes later, a rocket slammed into the Al-Rashid Hotel, hitting the floor directly beneath my room.

I sat there stunned, processing the news as we were notified in the front office about what had just happened. My heart raced. I prayed that everyone had made it out alive.

I got out in time. It was just random luck. Chad didn’t. That still lives with me.

Army Lt. Col. Charles H. “Chad” Buehring was killed that morning. He was someone I deeply admired—one of the people who made an impression on me early in my career. He didn’t just carry rank. He carried himself with purpose. He set the tone for what service should look like, especially for young civilians like me. He made sure we understood the gravity of what we were doing and why it mattered.

Chad served in the 3rd Special Forces Group and later in the 4th Psychological Operations Group at Fort Bragg. At the time of his death, he was assigned to Army Central Command Headquarters at Fort McPherson, Georgia, and was serving as Chief of the Military Information Support Team in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom.

To me, he was simply Chad, a friendly face and a steady leader who looked out for people like me on our first mission. He made the unfamiliar feel a little less overwhelming. It’s the years that follow that weigh the most, the birthdays missed, the milestones never celebrated, the quiet, ordinary moments his family lost forever.

Today, as my family and I gather around the grill, Chad will be on my mind. I’ll be thinking of all the men and women who’ve made the ultimate sacrifice, and the many who still carry the weight of war in quieter ways. We owe them more than a day of remembrance. We owe them a country worthy of their sacrifice. I hope that someday soon, we’ll have leaders in the highest office who serve the people—not themselves—and who remember the greater good, the mission, and the true meaning of public service.

Some anniversaries aren’t marked on calendars. But they live in us anyway.

-Olivia