America's Dead In Somalia -- Those Lost So Far

This wasn't supposed to happen. They had come on a mission of mercy. It turned into street-by-street urban combat. And in the end they paid the price.

Since Dec. 23, more than two dozen U.S. servicemen and one retired Green Beret have given their lives in Somalia as part of Operation Restore Hope, an international effort meant to feed the starving rather than combat the warriors.

Their deaths have proven to be a turning point. The magnitude of the numbers has compelled President Clinton, Congress and the American public to reconsider whether the original good will is enough to justify this dangerous errand.

These are the stories of men killed in action while trying to bring order in Somalia. --------------------------------------

Larry Freedman was the first American and the only U.S. civilian killed in the humanitarian effort in Somalia. But the 51-year-old retired Green Beret was as much a military man as the others. Maybe more so.

After more than 25 years in the service, often on missions his record will never show, Freedman's chest was a showcase of ribbons from action that included stints from 1967 to 1969 in Vietnam and from 1978 to 1982 with Delta Force, a counter-terrorist and hostage-rescue unit.

Freedman, father of seven, was killed Dec. 23, 1992, while scouting Marines' next push to bring food to the then-still-starving Somalis. The vehicle in which he was riding hit a land mine.

Officially a medic, friends said he was good-humored, gifted, devoted.

"He was a soldier through and through," said Brig. Gen. Richard Potter Jr., deputy commander of the special forces, who knew Freedman for 25 years.

Less than three weeks later, Marine Pfc. Domingo Arroyo Jr., 21, became the first U.S. military casualty in Somalia. His patrol was ambushed and he was killed Jan. 12 by Somali gunmen near Mogadishu's airport.

Born in Caguas, Puerto Rico, Arroyo was entering adolescence when he arrived in Elizabeth, N.J. He went straight into the Marines after high school. A year later, he saw war as part of Operation Desert Storm.

A radio wireman with the 3rd Battalion, 11th Marine Regiment based at Twentynine Palms, Calif., he was to be discharged in April 1992. But in December, he was summoned to Somalia.

He matured in the Marines, said Marcel Martinez, a cousin. "He changed a lot," Martinez said. "He had the eye of the tiger. He was a man."

An uncle said Arroyo wanted to get his mother out of the gritty, crime-infested Elizabeth neighborhood where they lived. Instead, the young man lies buried where he was born, in Puerto Rico.

Marine Lance Cpl. Anthony Botello was also 21 when he died - too young, it would seem, for his name to be given to an elementary school. But he was one who seemed fated early on to make his mark.

Respectful and respected is how Botello is described by people who remember his not-so-distant days as a leader of his high-school football team in Wilburton, Okla. And he had big plans. His stepfather, Larry Gean, said Botello joined the Marines to pay for his education. The young man "had ambitions that $3.50 an hour wouldn't take care of," Gean said.

Botello, assigned to the 7th Marine Regiment at Twentynine Palms, was killed by a sniper while on patrol in Mogadishu the night of Jan. 25. He left a widow, Sharla.

And in Mogadishu, students now attend the Anthony Botello Elementary School.

Army Sgt. 1st Class Robert H. Deeks was content. The 40-year-old career soldier from Littleton, Colo., based at Fort Campbell, Ky., liked being a medic, liked knowing foreign languages, liked the education and other opportunities the Army gave him.

Though fearful of heights, he even liked being in the 2nd Battalion, 5th Special Forces Group (Airborne), said his sister-in-law Carol Deeks, who with Harry, his older brother, had raised Robert since he was in the fifth grade.

And he liked what he was doing in Somalia.

Deeks was killed March 3 when the vehicle he was driving hit a land mine. He leaves a widow and stepdaughter.

On Aug. 8, a Sunday morning, a two-vehicle U.S. convoy was returning to its base after learning supply routes when a remote-controlled bomb blew apart the lead vehicle. The blast dug an instant crater waist-deep and 8 feet wide. The four men inside perished.

Sgt. Christopher Hilgert, Spc. Mark Gutting and Spc. Keith Pearson had arrived less than 48 hours earlier with the Army's 977th Military Police Company from Fort Riley, Kan. Sgt. Ronald N. Richerson was from Fort Leonard Wood, Mo.

Risk stirred the heart of Hilgert, 27, of New Albany, Ind., his mother said. "He was definitely the adventurous type. If someone would have said, `Which vehicle do you want to ride in?' he would have said, `The front one,' ' said Barbara Rider.

Hilgert joined the Army in 1988, and hoped to someday go into law enforcement. He leaves a widow, Pauline, and three chldren.

Gutting, 25, of Grand Rapids, Mich., also wanted a law-enforcement career. He never came under fire in Panama or the Persian Gulf, but he worried about Somalia.

"We were in agreement that our national policy over there pretty much stinks," said Gene Gutting, his father. "We told him to keep his head down."

You couldn't say anything bad about Pearson, 25, of Tavares, Fla., said Spc. Melinda Zenner. She told mourners at Fort Riley how Pearson and his wife, Jody, were the first to befriend her when she arrived at the base.

Pearson, who was born in New Britain, Conn., and grew up in Lake County, Fla., was like a big brother, Zenner said - a kind, honorable man who bent convention if necessary to make someone happy.

Richerson was a Christian missionary in an MP's uniform. "Ever since he first accepted Christ and dedicated his life to serving God, he dreamed of going to Africa to be a missionary," said his widow, Teresa Richerson. "God worked through the Army to fulfill that dream."

The 24-year-old father of two boys from Portage, Ind., was with the 300th Military Police Company based at Fort Leonard Wood.

Richerson had been in Somalia since April. He was killed 12 days before his unit was to return home.

Somali militiamen who shot down an Army Blackhawk helicopter on Sept. 25 took three lives.

One was Army Sgt. Ferdinan C. Richardson, 27, of Summermead, Calif., based at Fort Drum, N.Y.; little could be learned about his life. The others were Pfc. Matthew K. Anderson, 21, and Sgt. Eugene Williams, 26.

Anderson was one of those who found poetry in the order and discipline of a soldier's days.

The young gunner from Lucas, Iowa, spent tireless hours in the Somali desert maintaining the machine guns of his helicopter, said 1st Lt. Patrick Davis, who served with Anderson in the 9th Battalion of the 101st Aviation Regiment based at Fort Campbell, Ky.

In low moments, he would lift the spirits of his comrades with his poems. Bright and funny, he aspired to a career writing for military publications, said his mother, Joyce Anderson.

He didn't have to go to Somalia. He wanted to, she said, because the mission to Somalia sounded exciting. He was writing about his Army experiences when he died.

Growing up on Chicago's rough, crime-racked West Side, Eugene Williams diligently obeyed his parents' injunction to stay away from trouble. "We taught him not to start any confrontations, and if at all possible, to get away from any," said his mother, Georgia Williams.

What hooked Williams on the military were those commercials extolling Army life.

When the 26-year-old helicopter mechanic died, he was on his second enlistment since signing up at age 18. He left a widow, Deanna, to remember the music he made playing the saxophone and how much he loved to fly.

The single greatest loss of U.S. servicemen occurred Sunday, Oct. 3, during a 16-hour fight with Somali militiamen. At least 15 servicemen are known to have died as a result of the battle, and the body of another soldier was turned over today.

The courage of Chief Warrant Officer Donovan L. Briley, 33, was clear before he joined the Army. He was a civilian pilot in 1986 when the Drug Enforcement Administration hired him to fly some agents working in rural Arkansas. The aircraft crashed, killing three agents and breaking Briley's back. Despite his injury, Briley dragged two men out of the wreckage.

When his back healed, Briley entered the Army.

"He had guts, that's for sure," said his uncle, Don Briley of North Little Rock, Ark., Briley's hometown.

Briley, who had a wife, Sharri, and a daughter, Jordan, 5, flew Blackhawk helicopters for the 1st Battalion, 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment (Airborne) based in Fort Campbell, Ky.

Barbara Cavaco can still picture her son, Cpl. James M. Cavaco, 26, running up and down the sidewalks of Forestdale, Mass., a knapsack loaded with rocks on his back. He was in training for his dream.

He got what he wanted in the Army's 3rd Battalion, 75th Ranger Regiment based in Fort Benning, Ga., where he worked as a weapons specialist. He often told his mother, "I can't believe I get paid to do this."

Spc. Dominick M. Pilla, 21, of Vineland, N.J., assigned to the 3rd Battalion, 75th Ranger Regiment in Fort Benning, had zest: No smoking, no drinking, vigilant against flab but a lover of fun.

"He was a real hell-raiser. He was a real card," said his mother, Diane Pilla. "He loved life."

His father, Ben Pilla, a Vietnam War veteran, gave the son big shoes to fill. That's why Dominick chose the elite Army Rangers, his family said. Still, Pilla figured when he got out, and it would be soon, he would angle for a job at the FBI, or the Drug Enforcement Administration.

"He always wanted to be special," said his older brother, Frank, 23. "He wanted to be one of the few, not one of the masses."

Sgt. Lorenzo M. Ruiz, 27, of El Paso, Texas, was to end his mission in two months. He was assigned to the 3rd Battalion, 75th Ranger Regiment in Fort Benning. His widow and 5-month-old daughter live in Alabama.

Though his mission cost him his life, Ruiz' mother Maria Contreras says she is at peace."He was over there doing what his country wanted him to do."

James Smith lost his left leg after just six months of service, fighting with the Army Rangers in Vietnam in 1967. He was hospitalized for two years. He never pushed his son, Spc. James E. Smith, 21, into the military.

Still, the younger Smith announced in his junior year in high school in Long Valley, N.J., that he intended to join the Rangers, like his dad. And Jamie Smith, 21, ended up assigned to the 3rd Battalion, 75th Ranger Regiment of Fort Benning.

In boyhood, Master Sgt. Timothy L. Martin of Aurora, Ind., had one goal: an Army uniform, said a cousin, Nancy Dovenbarger.

Martin, 38, assigned to U.S. Army Special Forces Command in Fort Bragg, N.C., was thinking about retiring next year and starting a small business. He had a wife, Linda, and three girls.

The path was laid by men who preceded Sgt. 1st Class Earl R. Fillmore Jr. His grandfather, father and two uncles all served in the military. He joined the Army before finishing high school in Derry, Pa. At 24, he became one of the youngest chosen for the select Delta Force, said his mother, Shirley Fillmore.

Fillmore, a 28-year-old medic, was married to Felix Germuth Fillmore.

As a boy, he played soldiers with his friend Bill Bracken. In high school, they played together on the football team. Fillmore weighed just 145 pounds. It didn't matter. "He had a 200-pound heart," Bracken said. "That Earl was a hustler."

Around his alma mater, Portage High School in Wisconsin, they called him "Rambusch." Even as a teenager, Staff Sgt. Daniel D. Busch, 25, favored military garb and declared his plan for a military career.

Busch was a light-weapons infantry specialist in the Green Berets, with the Army Special Forces based at Fort Bragg.

He also was a religious man. The Rev. John Parlow, the family's pastor at St. John's Evangelical Lutheran Church in Baraboo, Wis., said Busch felt God had given him gifts to be a soldier.

He left a wife and 6-month-old baby.

When Pfc. James H. Martin Jr., 23, learned he was going to Somalia, he was thrilled - at least for a while, said his father.

The young man from Collinsville, Ill., felt he was doing "a great thing," said James Martin Sr., himself an Army veteran. But after a while, he "lost faith in what we were supposed to be doing over there," the father said.

Martin went into the Army - he was assigned to the 10th Mountain Division in Fort Drum, N.Y. - to raise money for an education in forestry.

"He liked to fish, anything outdoors, that's what he liked. He wouldn't be in the Army if it weren't for work outdoors," Martin said.

Said Lori Martin, his bride of less than a year, "I heard from him about a week and a half ago. He was doing fine, and said he would see me soon."

"Most Mannerly." That's what fellow seniors in the Class of 1992 at Carmichaels Area High School in Crucible, Pa., voted the future Pfc. Richard W. Kowalewski Jr. A library aide, he helped tutor other students having academic problems.

He was 20 when he died, an Army Ranger with the 75th Ranger Regiment based in Fort Benning.

"His one goal in life was to make something of himself, and he thought the military was the way to go," said the school's head librarian, Beverly Morton.

Mary Galbraith was at home in Plano, Texas, clipping a newspaper article about the Dallas Cowboys for her grandson, Sgt. James Casey Joyce, when she learned he had been killed.

Joyce, 24, was with the Army's 75th Ranger Regiment at Fort Benning. The day after he died, his grandmother received a letter from him.

"I can't wait to get home and watch the Cowboys with you so we can hoot and holler!" he wrote.

Born in Alabama, Joyce grew up in Plano, where he met and married his high-school sweetheart, DeAnna Gray. They last spoke the night before he died.

Chief Warrant Officer Clifton P. Wolcott, 36, of Cuba, N.Y., was assigned to the 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment (Airborne) at Fort Campbell, Ky. A helicopter pilot, he was a graduate of Emory-Riddle Aeronautical University. His wife, Christine Wolcott, and son, Robert, survive him.

Sgt. Cornell Houston, 31, was scared in Somalia, according to his family in Mobile, Ala. So he prayed. And the day before he was fatally wounded, he told his wife, Carmen, that his outlook had improved.

"He prayed and said it got better and he would go ahead and serve his country," said his aunt, Metro Jean Peoples.

Houston, who had five children ages 3 to 14, was with the 41st Engineer Battalion out of Fort Drum, N.Y.

Sgt. Thomas Field, 25, grew up in Lisbon, Maine, a blue-collar town of 9,400. He played hockey and football at Lisbon High School and received awards for his skill in automotive mechanics.

Despite his father's misgivings, Field joined the Army at age 18. He planned to make the Army his career when the helicopter on which he served as crew chief was downed.

"I knew he would end up in a war," said his father, Fred Field Sr. "But he said, `Dad, this is my job.' It is his job, but as a father I didn't want him there."

Information could not be found on Master Sgt. Gary I. Gordon, 33, of the U.S. Army Special Forces Command at Fort Bragg, N.C., who was identified only Friday as a victim of the Oct. 3 battle.

A mortar attack in Somalia ended the life of Army Sgt. 1st Class Matthew L. Rierson last Wednesday. He was a member of U.S. Army Special Forces Command stationed at Fort Bragg.

In July, when the Midwest flooded, Rierson was home in Nevada, Iowa, paddling around in his canoe to help others.

Rierson, 33, was always a gung-ho guy - captain of the high-school football team, husband to Patricia, dad of two small boys, ages 2 and 4.

"He blended in to whatever was going on. This was true about him ever since he was a kid," said Rosella Chitty, a neighbor and family friend. "Sure, he was ornery as a little boy. But he had a very caring nature."

"Whenever he did anything, he did it all the way or he didn't do it at all," said Ron Fincham, owner of a Nevada sporting goods store. "He wanted to do his part. I don't know, but I guess the odds caught up to him."