TumbleDweeeb

Another Night at Chill n’Fill: The Joseph Lancour Memorial, The Military Mother, The Veteran and The Protestor

   It was Sunday night at Chill n’Fill, the day before Memorial Day, 2025…  and I was two hours into my shift when I discovered Bob’s most solemn tribute yet. Our one-eyed polar bear mascot, the towering figure that stands beside our store sign, watching over the parking lot, had been transformed into what he respectfully called “Private Lancour Memorial Bear”… but this wasn’t like his TV homages. Bob had spent weeks researching and hand-crafting every detail with the reverence of someone creating a shrine.
   The towering bear stood beside our Chill n’Fill sign, wearing a meticulously recreated 173rd Airborne Brigade patch on its chest, tiny jump wings on its uniform, and a small Combat Infantryman Badge that Bob had carved from wood and painted by hand. Around its neck hung giant dog tags made from tin, reading “PFC JOSEPH M. LANCOUR,” and at its feet lay a wreath of handmade poppies surrounding six wooden crosses, each bearing the name of a fallen soldier.
   This was different from Bob’s previous tributes to all his inspirational TV series: Three’s Company, South Park, Scooby-Doo, Beavis & Butthead, How I Met Your Mother, Walt Disney & Fat Albert. Those had been celebrations of entertainment that brought people joy. This was something deeper, a memorial born from Bob’s family, a story that had moved him to tears. (A story that is difficult to write)
   The towering bear stood surrounded by Bob’s painstakingly researched tribute, visible to every customer entering our parking lot. Hand-painted signs read “SOME GAVE ALL – NOVEMBER 9, 2007” and “THE ARANAS SIX – NEVER FORGOTTEN.” A small display case contained Bob’s attempt to recreate the 173rd Airborne Brigade insignia in cardboard and paint, along with printouts of the six fallen soldiers’ photos and a timeline of the Battle of Aranas that Bob had compiled from dozens of military websites and memorial pages.
   But what really struck me was the centerpiece, a handwritten placard in Bob’s distinctive scrawl that revealed the deeply personal connection behind this tribute:
“PRIVATE FIRST CLASS JOSEPH M. LANCOUR, 21, OF SWARTZ CREEK, MICHIGAN, MY COUSIN. JOE WANTED TO BE A FARMER OR A SNIPER, TWO DREAMS WORLDS APART BUT BOTH ABOUT PROVIDING FOR OTHERS. HE JOINED THE 173rd AIRBORNE BRIGADE, THE ‘SKY SOLDIERS,’ AND SERVED WITH COMPANY C, 2ND BATTALION, 503rd AIRBORNE INFANTRY REGIMENT, CHOSEN COMPANY. ON NOVEMBER 9, 2007, JOE AND HIS BROTHERS-IN-ARMS WERE RETURNING FROM A VILLAGE MEETING IN ARANAS, AFGHANISTAN, WHEN THEY WERE AMBUSHED IN THE MOUNTAINS. JOE DIED ON NOVEMBER 10 FROM HIS WOUNDS ALONGSIDE CAPTAIN MATTHEW FERRARA (24, FIRST PLATOON LEADER), SGT. JEFFERY MERSMAN (23), CPL. SEAN LANGEVIN (23, WHO LEFT BEHIND A PREGNANT WIFE), CPL. LESTER ROQUE (23), AND MARINE SGT. PHILLIP BOCKS (28). SIX BRAVE MEN WHO NEVER CAME HOME. ONE OF THEIR BROTHERS-IN-ARMS, KYLE WHITE, SURVIVED THAT DAY AND WOULD LATER RECEIVE THE MEDAL OF HONOR FOR HIS HEROIC ACTIONS TRYING TO SAVE HIS FALLEN COMRADES. MY AUNT & UNCLE SAID JOE HAD AN AUTOMATIC INSTINCT TO HELP OTHERS AND PLACED THE VALUE OF OTHERS AHEAD OF HIS OWN. THAT WAS THE JOE I KNEW AS A KID, ALWAYS HELPING, ALWAYS GIVING. MY BROTHER DID TWO TOURS IN AFGHANISTAN, AND HIS FRIENDS SERVED TOO. WE ALL KNEW THE RISKS, BUT JOE PAID THE PRICE. HE DESERVES TO BE REMEMBERED HERE BECAUSE THIS GAS STATION IS ALL I HAVE TO HONOR HIM WITH, AND FAMILY HONORS FAMILY. JOE RECEIVED THE BRONZE STAR MEDAL AND PURPLE HEART POSTHUMOUSLY FOR HIS HEROIC SERVICE. FREEDOM ISN’T FREE AND MY COUSIN PAID THE PRICE.”
   I stared at the display, realizing Bob had spent weeks diving deep into military history, memorial websites, and obituaries… not just to understand Joseph Lancour’s story, but to properly honor his own family. This wasn’t just research; this was grief channeled into art, love transformed into memorial. Bob’s cousin’s unit had fought off a massive Taliban attack, and how they’d moved to Firebase Bella afterward. He’d read about the village meeting that was supposed to rebuild trust after suspected local collaboration in the Ranch House attack, and how the patrol of fourteen Americans and their Afghan allies had been walking down a mountain trail when the ambush began.
   This memorial wasn’t Bob’s usual random tribute to pop culture, this is personal. This is family.
   The evening had started quietly… a few truckers, some teenagers, and Mrs. Patterson buying her nightly lottery tickets, but I’d been deeply moved by Bob’s memorial research when our ghostly radio system suddenly switched to “Taps,” the haunting military funeral melody filling the store just as the automatic doors slid open.
   The woman who entered moved slowly, with the deliberate grace of someone carrying invisible weight. Mid-fifties, wearing a simple American flag pin on her jacket and holding a small American flag. Her eyes gazed on Bob’s memorial display, and she stopped breathing for a moment.
       “Oh my God,” she whispered, looking at the towering memorial bear outside the window. “Is this… is this for fallen soldiers?”
     “Yes ma’am,” I replied softly, recognizing something profound in her reaction. “Our manager Bob created this memorial for his cousin Joseph.”
   Her eyes filled with tears as she read Bob’s personal placard, then examined each detail of his handcrafted tribute. “I have a son who served in Afghanistan,” she said quietly. “Marine Corps, different unit entirely, but the brotherhood… it’s all the same. When I saw this memorial from the highway, I had to stop. These soldiers… they’re all someone’s family.”
   My heart stopped. A military mother who understood the weight of service and sacrifice. “Ma’am, Bob has been working on this for weeks. He lost his cousin. Bob’s brother completed two deployments to Afghanistan, and several of his brother’s friends, that Bob knows, served as well.”
   She pulled out her phone with shaking hands, photographing every detail of Bob’s memorial. “My son made it home from his deployment, thank God, but too many didn’t. When you know someone who served, every loss hits different. Your Bob… he’s honoring not just his cousin, but all the brothers who died with him. That’s what military families do, we remember them all.”
       “Bob wrote that Joseph wanted to be either a farmer or a sniper,” I said gently.
   She smiled through her tears. “That sounds like so many young men from small towns, torn between providing and protecting. My son had that same pull. They all have that instinct to serve, whether it’s feeding people or defending them. And when you have family and friends who serve, the war feels closer to home.”
   She studied Bob’s recreation of the Aranas timeline, reading the details Bob had researched about the ambush. “This memorial… it shows that Bob understands what military families know. These soldiers didn’t die alone, they died as brothers. That’s what makes this tribute so powerful.”
       “Bob researched the whole unit,” I said, pointing to the display of the other five soldiers. “He wanted people to remember Joe’s brothers-in-arms too.”
     “That’s what we do in military families, we honor them all. Captain Ferrara was their First Platoon leader, a West Point graduate who received the Silver Star posthumously. Jeffery Mersman had already done three tours in Iraq before Afghanistan and earned the Bronze Star with Valor. Sean Langevin was a corporal who left behind a pregnant wife – their daughter was born three months after he was killed – and he received two Bronze Stars posthumously, one with valor. Lester Roque was the medic, and Phillip Bocks was the Marine attached to their unit. They all received Bronze Stars and Purple Hearts posthumously. They all looked out for each other. One of their brothers, Kyle White, survived that terrible day and received the Medal of Honor for trying to save his fallen comrades.” She touched each name on Bob’s wooden crosses. “Bob understood that these boys didn’t die as strangers, they died as family.”
   As she continued studying Bob’s tribute, sharing insights about military families and the bonds between soldiers, I felt that profound connection between different kinds of military experience, family concern and unit brotherhood, both channeled into remembrance. The radio had perfectly matched her arrival with “Taps,” and her genuine emotional response to Bob’s deeply personal memorial felt like validation of his way of processing grief.
   That sacred moment lasted exactly fifteen minutes, until the radio switched to “Born in the U.S.A.” by Bruce Springsteen and the automatic doors opened to admit a man in his forties wearing a worn military jacket with multiple deployment patches. He moved with the careful precision of someone who’d served, and his eyes immediately found Bob’s memorial display with the recognition of someone who understood what he was seeing.
      “173rd Airborne,” he said quietly, reading Bob’s tribute with deep respect. “The Sky Soldiers, Chosen Company. I served with the 82nd, different unit but same brotherhood. This is beautiful work.”
    “Our manager Bob created it for his cousin,” I replied, watching him examine each detail with the reverence of someone who’d been there.
       “I can see the love in every detail,” he said, studying Bob’s handcrafted 173rd patch and wooden crosses. “November 9th, 2007… I remember when we got word about Aranas. Lost six good people that day. Your Bob, he’s honoring them the right way.”
   He pulled out his wallet, selecting bills for his coffee with the deliberate movements of someone choosing his words carefully. “I lost brothers too, different battles, different years. But this memorial… it shows that someone remembers. That’s what matters most.”
       “Bob’s brother served two tours in Afghanistan, and his brother’s friends served too,” I mentioned. “The war touched a lot of people in his family.”
     “It always does,” he nodded, his voice heavy with understanding. “Tell Bob that what he’s created here honors not just his cousin, but every soldier who didn’t make it home. Sometimes the most powerful memorials come from the heart, not from marble and granite.”
   As he paid and prepared to leave, he paused at the memorial one more time. “You know what the best part of this is? It’s not in some official building where people have to visit. It’s here, in a place where regular folks stop by. In a place 620 miles away from where the soldier lived. That means these soldiers’ stories reach people who might never visit Michigan. Your Bob understood something important … heroes should be remembered where people live their daily lives.”
   The contrast became even more meaningful when the doors opened again as the radio switched to “God Bless the U.S.A.” by Lee Greenwood. A teenage boy entered wearing an Army ROTC t-shirt and the kind of earnest respect that spoke to his understanding of service.
       “Whoa, a military memorial” he said immediately, looking to Bob’s display with genuine reverence. “This is incredible! Someone really researched all of this?”
    “Our manager Bob created this,” I explained, watching him read through Bob’s historical timeline with genuine respect. “Bob’s cousin died in Afghanistan with these soldiers. Bob’s brother also did multiple tours over there, and his brother’s friends served in the war as well.”
       “Ma’am, thank you for your family’s service,” he said solemnly to the military mother, executing a perfect salute. “And please tell Bob that what he’s created here is incredible. This is how you honor the fallen, by remembering their stories and the brothers who died with them.”
   The military mother smiled through her tears. “These soldiers would have liked you. And Bob will be so moved to know his memorial touched someone your age. When you have family and friends who served, worry and relief take many forms. This tribute… it’s his way of making sure his cousin and these brave men aren’t forgotten.”
       “The Sky Soldiers have an incredible history,” he continued, studying Bob’s recreation of the unit insignia. “They fought in Vietnam, Iraq, Afghanistan. Your manager really captured what Chosen Company was about. This memorial shows he understood that Joe was part of something bigger.”
     “The soldier who was just here said this memorial reaches people who might never visit official war memorials,” I mentioned, curious about his perspective.
     “He’s absolutely right,” he said earnestly. “Whether you’re getting gas or buying snacks, everyone who comes in here sees these soldiers remembered. That’s powerful. Bob is making sure their sacrifice is part of daily life, not just something we think about on Memorial Day.”
   She handed him a small American flag pin. “You remind me of so many good young people who choose to serve. They understand that some things are bigger than politics.”
   As he left, still studying Bob’s memorial photos and promising to research the 173rd Airborne’s history, I realized I’d witnessed something beautiful in one hour. The military mother who understood service and sacrifice and found comfort in seeing fallen soldiers remembered where regular people could discover them, the veteran who recognized the power of grassroots memorials over formal monuments, and the idealistic youth who understood that honoring sacrifice should be part of everyday life.
   I pulled out my phone and texted my roommate: “Bob’s latest tribute is to his cousin Private Joseph Lancour and five other soldiers killed in Afghanistan in November 2007. Tonight a military mother whose son served in Afghanistan discovered Bob’s memorial and was moved by his way of honoring fallen soldiers. Then a veteran from the 82nd Airborne praised Bob for creating a grassroots memorial where regular people can discover these heroes’ stories, followed by an ROTC kid who understood that remembrance should be part of daily life. Just a night at Chill n’Fill, where Bob’s personal memorial to his cousin became a bridge between military families and civilian communities.”
   As I hit send, I glanced at Bob’s Memorial Private Lancour Bear standing tall beside our store sign, surrounded by his lovingly crafted tribute, every detail radiating the love of family grief transformed into art. Maybe Joseph Lancour, who wanted to be either a farmer or a sniper… someone who either fed people or protected them… would have been moved to know his cousin Bob remembered him this way, turning a gas station’s roadside sign into a shrine where family honors family and sacrifice is never forgotten.
   Or maybe I was just honored to work somewhere that understood that the deepest memorials come not from strangers, but from family who refuse to let their loved ones fade from memory.
   Either way, I had six more hours to tend Bob’s most personal tribute and hope that someday Bob would see how much his memorial meant to his family, and how his artistic way of processing grief had created something beautiful from unbearable loss, proving that love endures even when the loved one cannot.

-During the Iraq War (2003-2011), 4,475 U.S. service members were killed and 32,292 were wounded in action.
-During the Afghanistan War (2001-2021), 2,459 U.S. military personnel died in Operation Enduring Freedom and Operation Freedom’s Sentinel, with 20,769 wounded in action.

****On November 9, 2007, my first cousin Joseph M. Lancour (my father’s sister’s son) was killed alongside five brothers-in-arms when their foot patrol was attacked by direct fire from enemy forces in Aranas, Afghanistan. The soldiers were assigned to 2nd Battalion, 503rd Airborne Infantry Regiment, 173rd Airborne Brigade Combat Team.

***The fallen heroes from the November 9, 2007 Aranas ambush were:

– Joseph M. Lancour, age 21
Bachellor Cemetery
Fountain, Mason County, Michigan

– Matthew C. Ferrara, age 24
United States Military Academy Post Cemetary
West Point, Orange County, New York

– Jeffery S. Mersman, age 23
Saint Boniface Catholic Cemetery
Scipio, Anderson County, Kansas

– Sean K. Langevin, age 23
Queen of Heaven Cemetery
Lafayette, Contra Costa County, California

– Lester G. Roque, age 23
Forest Lawn Memorial Park
Cypress, Orange County, California

– Phillip A. Bocks, age 28
Crooks Road Cemetary
Troy, Oakland County, Michigan

**The Aranas ambush marks 2007 as the deadliest year for the U.S. in Afghanistan since the invasion in 2001, with American deaths rising to more than 100 that year.

*Please take a few minutes today to remember these fallen heroes, to pray for them and their families, and to honor all who made the ultimate sacrifice during Operation Enduring Freedom and every conflict where American service members gave their lives in service to our nation.