The world is a small place – especially when it comes to the military and V.M.I.

On Wednesday, I was suppose to fly to Wardack Province with the U.S Military for a story. I’m not going to tell you too much about the subject because it’s a great story and it’s a slightly controversial topic. I will have more on it later. Unfortunately, the weather prevented our Blackhawks from landing in Kabul, and the trip was called off – for now.

During the 3 hours we spent waiting for our rides at the Ministry of Defense helipad, I had a chance to speak with the pretty much everyone in our group. Overtime, how I ended up in Afghanistan and V.M.I. came up.

Within  seconds of mentioning of V.M.I., one of the military guys – Sgt. Marsh – asked if I knew Jamie Edge. I said of course, he is a legend at V.M.I. Apparently, Sgt Marsh and Jamie grew up together.

Jamie was three years ahead of me and was the 6th V.M.I. graduate to die in Iraq (April 2005). Every graduate that is killed in action hurts the V.M.I community but Jamie’s really stung. He wasn’t the type of guy who was suppose to be killed in combat. I think most people who know him, figured he would win a Congressional Medal of Honor, if not two.

Jamie was legendary at V.M.I — and apparently throughout the military. He was the one guy during my time at V.M.I. that everyone seemed to respect – even those who spent every waking second hating the school and all things military.

Jamie was born to be a marine – and was a carbon copy of the ones you see in the commercials. He filled a room and intimated everyone – not in the negative sense but in a positive leadership way.  And I don’t think anyone pushed new cadets as hard as he did. You never knew just how far he might take training – but at the same time you also knew he was too professional to do anything that would completely cross the line. It was a fine line but he walked it and was beloved by his classmates and respected by everyone.

I didn’t really know him, but he had a major impact on my first year at V.M.I and I went to his funeral at Arlington National Cemetery out of respect. So did several thousand other people. One of the marine honor guard members later said it was one of, if not the largest, funerals he had ever participated in.

During one of my only real interactions with him, he damn near broke my hand after one of my dyke’s (big brothers in V.M.I. speak) sent me low crawling through the mess hall to pour a bowl of sticky peanut butter on Jamie’s highly polished black shoes. I realized I was caught when his foot crushed my hand. I spent the next three weeks reporting to his room at 5am – and was worked out as hard as I can remember. I probably should hold a grudge but he was just too good a guy.

I knew coming out here I would bump into V.M.I. friends but I never expect to have a long conversation about a guy I barely knew and who’s been dead for almost 4 years. But the conversation brought back a lot of memories about my time at V.M.I  — especially about what an odd, yet great place it was — much like Kabul right now.

I know this post will mean nothing to most non-V.M.I. people but I also know it will mean a lot to my V.M.I friends.