Leader Showcase: HM2 Charles Luke Milam
Or The Day I Learned to Lead
HM2 Charles Luke Milam was the first man killed under my command. His death, 18 years ago today, ranks among the worst days of my life. It was also the day I learned to lead.
I remember it was late in the evening when we received the call over the radio. We stood in stunned silence. I wasn’t sure what to do. None of my training to date had prepared me for this, though I’d considered what I’d do if it happened. I don’t recall applying any of that at the moment and instead tried to gather my thoughts while shocked that Luke wasn’t with us any longer.
Combat death is so sudden that there is no time to prepare and little time to grieve. For me as a leader, I had to find an extra gear and ensure the rest of my people did their jobs while maintaining their humanity. This is something no self-help or “leadership” guru can tell you while encouraging people to walk on hot coals.
Being blunt, in combat, the shitbirds don’t get killed. The guys you wish would go away don’t get hurt. It’s always a good guy, and in my unit, we had a lot of good guys. In Luke’s case, he was a great guy.
Tall, handsome, popular with the ladies and envied by his peers because of it, he possessed an easygoing demeanor that affected everyone around him. Luke was a consummate professional and excelled as a Special Operations Medic, or SARC, as we call them in our community.
He became a combat medic because he felt he should have been able to do something for his fellow classmates at Columbine High School as they were massacred on that fateful day in April 1999. He was home preparing to go to his job as part of a work study program. And still, he wanted to be there with his friends instead of helplessly watching the horrible events unfold on television.
He was exceptionally proficient, earning the SOF Medic of the Year AND the MARSOC Operator of the Year simultaneously in 2006. He is the only member of the command to do so. And he was impressively brave, being awarded the Bronze Star Medal with Valor device and the Purple Heart (a dubious medal to ‘earn’ if you ask an awardee), during a previous deployment to Iraq.
He went down manning a machine-gun after treating several member of his team for wounds. The truck he was in was hit by a rocket. He was killed instantly.
He was a fighter-leader who put himself ahead of others. He was selfless to the end. As a leader myself, at the moment he died I wondered if I possessed the same mettle. I wanted to be like Luke in that regard. I hoped I did, anyway.
That mission and the deployment continued. We eventually went home, all of us changed. I later met Luke’s parents. I remember his father didn’t say anything to me, just pulled me into a long, warm embrace. It was all that was needed and we both broke down in tears. This is how he greets me every time I see him and through he and Luke’s mother, my own family has come to know and appreciate Luke. We’ve visited his grave in Colorado several times and his dad and I have a beer with Luke. It was something Luke enjoyed.
I liked and admired Luke a great deal. Everyone did. I’m not sure an article like this can ever be enough to express that, but just saying his name keeps his memory alive.
At the very least, I owe that to his family and his comrades.
Today is always a tough one. But rest easy, Luke, you gave the last full measure.
Another great article brother! Luke was truly a one of a kind man and warrior. Proud to have known him and fought alongside him.
Thank you for keeping Luke’s memory alive, and introducing him too those who never had the opportunity to meet him in person.