In college, I joined the Navy ROTC unit at GW. It was my first class of college. I had been deciding between NROTC or Air Force reserves, and was told to sign up for the Intro to Naval Science course to see if I liked it. My first day of class, I was in a room with thirty midshipman, all in their whites. I was in a t-shirt and shorts. Clearly, I stood out. It was a hell of a way to begin my college career, out of place on the first day.
A few weeks later, I was in whites alongside them, having signed up, gotten my gear and taken the oath.
I was an average Mid. Stayed out of trouble – I can only remember one weekend of “book vault” duty for demerits. Made it to drill on time, did my PT. But I could tell after a while that it wasn’t for me. The Navy made it clear they were looking for engineers and mathematicians, not political science majors who had difficulty counting with their shoes on. While I squeaked by with a B in Naval Ship Weapons systems, and aced all of the history courses, my calculus grades were pretty bad. And being a big guy, I was always fighting the scale during PT. After my sophomore year, it was clear I wasn’t going to get a scholarship or get commissioned so I began the process of transitioning back to civilian life.
One of my friends in the unit was guy named Kris Krohne. He was a transfer – came in from UC Santa Barbara, and he looked like a pilot out of central casting. Blonde, tall, always quick with a joke or a laugh. He was coming into the unit as I was leaving it. He and I got along well – had a number of classes together, he being another political science major but better at math than I was – and we got along well.
I remember one anecdote with Kris. I was moping around campus, having just broken up with a long-term girlfriend. I ran into him and we started talking. Pretty soon we’d moved over to the Red Lion – the local campus bar – and were sitting out back. A few hours later and more beers than I care to mention, my worries were gone and he’d completely cheered me up. That’s what he did. He was the carefree California dude who never took life seriously.
He graduated in 2000, while I was still finishing up school – those two years in NROTC didn’t help much, with a bunch of classes taken that didn’t even count as electives. And, to no one’s surprise, Kris was selected for flight training. My friend Kris became Ensign Kristopher Krohne, USN.
One of the things they drill into your head in the service is that it’s dangerous. Even outside of wartime, accidents and potentially fatal situations happen all the time. One of my Lieutenants told us horror stories of men being electrocuted and having to pull them off live wires with his leather belt. One of our LTs was a radar intercept officer on F-14s, and he had videos of carrier crash landings that would make your toes curl. I once asked him what was the most important thing for us to remember aboard ship. His response? “Never step in a bight.” You had to have a sense of humor in my unit.
Despite all that, it still came as a shock to me when I was given the news that my friend Kris had died in a training accident near Enid, Oklahoma. He was on his first solo flight in a T-37 trainer, coming in for a landing. He never made it, crashing a mile short of the runway. He didn’t try to eject. I traded emails with his family and with our mutual friends at GW, but the shock never lessened. I couldn’t believe he was actually gone.
This was my first experience of losing a former shipmate. It was the first experience of losing someone that young who was a friend. I’d lost family members before, but it felt different. Kris was young, just 24. He had his whole life in front of him and he was living his dream of becoming a naval aviator. All cut short one Wednesday morning in September.
Memorial Day is the day where we pause to remember those who have given their lives in uniformed service to our country. Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, Marines, Coast Guardsmen, and Merchant Mariners, in peacetime and in wartime, in combat and in accidents, at home and abroad. We all know someone. A family member, a shipmate, a buddy. Somebody who didn’t make it home.
Today, let’s all remember them fondly. Today is not a day for mourning. It’s a day for remembrance. So while we’re all out with our hot dogs and hamburgers, enjoying the official summer kick-off, don’t forget about the men and women who made today possible. Men like Kris Krohne.
