They Stand on the Wall of Freedom: Training Casualties

I recently attended another memorial last week in Liberty Chapel, 7th SFG, Eglin AFB, Florida. This time, I was not sitting in the first row with my family. Instead, I was further back in the crowd, paying my respects to another fallen Green Beret—one who had served on the same ODA* as my son. He, too, passed away far too early—just like my son.

My heart felt a dizzying heaviness as I walked with my wife from the parking lot to the chapel, thinking about yet another family enduring the crippling cacophony of loss and pain. We had been in that front row in that same chapel a couple of years ago. The days, weeks, and months surrounding my son’s death remain an unrecognizable blur in my mind and soul. I remember going through the motions—shaking hands, hugging, crying, talking, being escorted from event to event—but all with the surreal sensation of breathing air from another planet. I was present in my body but disconnected in my soul, an otherworldly walk steeped in denial, shock, and disbelief.

I find myself wishing, praying, that we could be the last family to suffer this insurmountable loss—the frail plea that no one else would have to experience this pain. But that is not to be. We bear witness to the bereaved, helpless as we watch grief take its relentless course through yet another family and community. We can lend our ears, prayers, and shoulders to cry on. It is something—but it is never enough for those newly immersed in grief.

The twenty-year War on Terror has ended. We no longer see flag-draped coffins with military escorts returning from Afghanistan and Iraq, and for that, I am thankful. Yet, our Soldiers, Marines, Sailors, and Airmen continue to serve and train every day. They sit on the wall of freedom, waiting for our Nation to call their names. And when called upon, they will go—just like the generations before them.

This way of life—continually rehearsing for the next crisis—is inherently dangerous and can cost precious lives, even in a “peacetime” military. We see it all too often. Sometimes, it hits close to home.

Just a few weeks ago, an Army Blackhawk collided with a passenger jet landing at Reagan Washington National Airport, costing 67 civilian and military lives. Sixty-seven new families are now grieving the catastrophic loss of their loved ones. It breaks my heart to think about what those families are experiencing now. The news cycle has already moved on to the next hot topic—like the Super Bowl halftime show—but those families will be dealing with these losses for a lifetime. They have most unexpectedly embarked on the long, hard road of grief.

Our personal journey of grief began when our son, SSG George L. Taber V, 30, died suddenly while training at the mountain phase of Army Ranger school in Dahlonega, Georgia, on August 9, 2022. The Rangers were practicing climbing and rappelling techniques on Mt. Yonah when a sudden summer storm lashed the mountaintop. As they “sheltered in place” due to the proximity of lightning strikes, severe wind gusts of 60 mph toppled a tree, killing my son and 1st Lt. Evan Fitzgibbon.

I, along with others, have written about George in The Havok Journal. Now, it is time to write about other heroes—to proclaim their names and promote their legacies.

Evan Fitzgibbon was only 23 when he died in the same storm as my son. Since childhood, he had dreamed of attending West Point, becoming an Infantry Officer, and completing Ranger School. He was well on his way to realizing that dream, having been commissioned as an Army Officer in May 2021 from West Point. He had recently completed the Infantry Officers Basic Course and was attending Ranger School before his first assignment.

Evan was a brilliant musician, an outdoorsman, and a person whose enthusiasm for life was infectious. In high school, he was at the top of his class, a member of the National Honor Society and Student Leadership Institute, and captain of the football team at Foundation Academy in Winter Garden, Florida. He had just gotten engaged to the love of his life and was set to marry after graduating from Ranger School. We mourn his loss yet celebrate his life—well-lived and well-loved. He is a hero.

Just over a year earlier, on July 27, 2021, George’s close friend and fellow Green Beret Medic, SSG Micah Walker, 31, died while training at the strenuous Army Combat Diver Qualification Course in Key West, Florida. Before reporting to their respective teams, Quint and Micah attended the year-long Special Operations Combat Medic Course (SOCM) together. They completed a SOCM clinical rotation in Arizona, honing their medical skills by treating patients on an Indian reservation.

While in Arizona, they worked hard, learned new medical techniques, snowboarded, ran, and worked out together. They even got their rental vehicle stuck on a snow-covered pass and stayed warm by building a fire until they could be rescued. Before the military, Micah spent six years as a missionary in South Africa, where he met and married his beloved wife. Following the birth of their first of three children, he enlisted in the U.S. Army, answering a call to serve his country in the Special Forces. After Micah’s death, George posted on Instagram: “RIP, Micah. Keep your nose in the wind and your eye along the skyline”—a quote from their favorite movie, Jeremiah Johnson. He is a hero.

SSG Seth Michael Plant, 30, knew from a young age that he wanted to follow in his uncle’s footsteps and serve in the U.S. Army. After a deployment and some close calls in Afghanistan, he was stationed at Joint Base Elmendorf-Richardson in Alaska with the 3rd Battalion, 509th Parachute Infantry Regiment. On May 10, 2022, while training in a remote section of the expansive base, he was fatally attacked by a brown bear. The unexpected news devastated his immediate family and the close-knit community of St. Augustine, Florida.

He loved the outdoors and was a proud Airborne soldier who never met a stranger. The Plant family reached out to us soon after the loss of our son later that same summer. They told us about the Florida Run for the Fallen and ensured George’s name was on the running route. We met soon thereafter and continue to support each other by prayer and presence as fellow Gold Star families. He is a hero.

The memorial I recently attended at 7th SFG was that of SSG Thomas A. Lazzaro (Tommy), 27. I received a call on Christmas Eve from two of his ODA teammates—who were also my son’s teammates—informing me of his passing. It shook me to my core.

On December 22, 2024, Tommy received a call from a buddy stuck on an Eglin Air Force range open to public hunting. In typical Tommy fashion, he quickly responded, driving his 4WD truck out to assist. En route, a stray bullet from another hunting party penetrated his vehicle, resulting in his fatal injury. He is gone far too soon. He is missed. He is a hero.

These are the names I say out loud each morning. Yet, there are hundreds more. Whose names do you speak and remember? I cannot speak them all, but collectively, we can. As long as we say their names, they continue to live on. We remember. And when we remember, we love.

None of these soldiers died in combat or on foreign soil. They died while training to be the best—to defend our liberties and our country when called upon. If you doubt the caliber of men and women in our armed forces today, re-read the all-too-brief accounts above. They could have excelled in civilian careers, yet they chose the challenge, patriotism, and sacrifice of military service.

We owe them a debt of gratitude. They are the unsung heroes who stand on the wall of freedom.

*ODA—Operational Detachment “Alpha,” a 12-person Special Forces team highly trained in advanced weapons, demolitions, and combat tactics. Also known as “A-Teams.”

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This first appeared in The Havok Journal on February 26, 2025.

Tab Taber is a Gold-Star Dad–father of SSG George L. Taber V, a Green Beret Medical Sergeant from 7th SFG who died during a violent storm on Mt. Yonah while in the Mountain phase of Ranger School in August 2022. Tab journals to process his grief and to recollect memories of his son. Occasionally he shares his written thoughts with The Havok Journal and on Instagram @gltiv. He retired from the Military (8 years Marines;15 years Army) in 2014 and now resides in NE Florida where he runs a 4th generation wholesale plant nursery. He can be reached at tabtaber7@gmail.com.

As the Voice of the Veteran Community, The Havok Journal seeks to publish a variety of perspectives on a number of sensitive subjects. Unless specifically noted otherwise, nothing we publish is an official point of view of The Havok Journal or any part of the U.S. government.