Skip to content
Author
PUBLISHED: | UPDATED:
Getting your Trinity Audio player ready...

On the evening of Dec. 18, 2009, Anna and Thomas Ware were sitting in their living room amid photographs of their teenage daughter and their son, Albert Ware, a decorated Army infantryman who loved playing soccer. The 10 o’clock news was on, and Anna Ware’s attention was divided between the television and the falling rain outside the window.

Midway through the newscast, there was a knock on the door.

“My husband was nodding off, and I was wondering who was knocking so late,” said Ware, of the South Pullman neighborhood. “There’s a door that you get to before you open the main one and I opened the first one and I heard the person say he was a captain. I thought maybe something happened in the neighborhood and he was at the wrong house.”

When she opened the main door, she saw a tall man and a short one, both dressed in military greens. One began to speak; the other refused to look her in the eye. She slammed the door.

“I knew it was about death and my son, and I couldn’t hear it right then,” she said. “I ran into the living room and woke my husband up, and I told him the military was here, and we both knew the news, and we started hollering and screaming. I just prayed, asking God to give us the strength to open the door.”

That night, the Ware family learned that Albert, a 27-year-old sergeant who had a wife and three children, was killed by an improvised explosive device when his Humvee came under attack that day in Afghanistan’s Arghandab River Valley.

She said the family had talked to Albert less than 24 hours before. He was in good spirits and preparing to send his sister, Ciatta, a gift home for her 14th birthday. Though he couldn’t be specific, he told the family he was about to go on a mission. He told his father not to worry about him.

Thomas Ware immigrated to Chicago from Liberia in 1984 as an exchange student. He said that after marrying Anna, he struggled to get his son out of that war-torn country. He finally succeeded in bringing Albert to America when he was 12.

“It’s very difficult sometimes,” said Thomas, fighting back tears. “To bring my son here from a war only to have him die in war makes me so sad. Sometimes I ask myself, ‘What’s the essence of war? What are we fighting for?’ I used to do things without questioning. I can’t do that anymore.”

Anna Ware said that as word spread of Albert’s death, the family received an outpouring of support. Neighbors formed a food tree that provided hot meals for three months. Albert was part of the 82nd Airborne Division, based at Fort Bragg, N.C., and his military brothers still call weekly.

“It was so unbelievably beautiful,” she said. “People who lived down the street and even some I didn’t know helped us, even people from miles away of different races and ethnicities, and the area police department showed their kindness. When you have suffered a loss that shakes you to your core, people want to provide comfort.”

She said her family attends meetings of survivor support groups, and she has noticed that some families that lose soldiers to suicide don’t always receive the same level of support.

“There are soldiers who come home, and they’re suffering from post-traumatic stress, and they come home and die,” she said. “And that pains me.

“A girlfriend who’s a veteran said that if a soldier isn’t killed in combat, then he doesn’t get the whole military hurrah, and that’s not fair. It’s not right. I miss my son. I still think he’s going to call. Other parents who have lost their children, whether in combat or not, feel the same way.”

On Saturday, the Ware family and friends marched in the Memorial Day parade along State Street. Thomas Ware said that when he attends ceremonies recognizing fallen soldiers, it’s still difficult to hear his son’s name among the roll call of the many who have given their lives.

He said that in January 2010, when Albert was buried at the Abraham Lincoln National Cemetery in Elwood, his grave was located in an area with few grave sites, the second in a row that had just been started. But by that Memorial Day, the graves surrounding Albert’s were full.

He said he understands that soldiers who were buried in the interim may have included aging veterans of World War II and the Vietnam and Korean wars as well.

But he can’t help but wonder why his son had to die. Albert’s children are now 6, 5 and 4.

“I never thought Albert would leave me or that his own children would have to memorialize him,” Thomas Ware said. “I’m still contemplating whether I will go to the cemetery this year. I want to go; I have to go. My son was a brave and honorable man, and I know God made the ultimate decision to make his life mean something. But it still just hurts too much.”

dtrice@tribune.com