... the saddest acre in America / Hooper mother to share son's story on documentary about Arlington National Cemetery's Section 60
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No Comments [ Add Comment ]By NANCY VAN VALKENBURG
Standard-Examiner staff
Just before he shipped out to Iraq, Army Pvt. Michael A. Pursel told his mom that if the worst should happen, he wanted his remains cremated and scattered.
"He didn't want me to be buried somewhere I could go 'live' by his graveside," said Air Force Maj. Terry Dutcher, the mother of Pursel, who died in an explosion in Iraq 17 months ago.
Dutcher, of Hooper, is stationed at Hill Air Force Base.
"Then the military told me that Michael was entitled to be buried at Arlington Cemetery and would be placed at the top of the list. I knew that if Michael and I had discussed Arlington, he would have wanted to be there.
"He always talked about wanting to be a hero."
Dutcher, 42, has traveled to Arlington, Va., three times to visit the grave of her son in the military cemetery that is the final resting place for more than 300,000 men and women.
On one trip, an HBO film crew approached Dutcher. Her interview airs today as part of the documentary, "Section 60: Arlington National Cemetery."
Section 60, which has been called the saddest acre in America, is the area of the cemetery that holds the remains of troops who died in Iraq and Afghanistan.
The documentary airs at 7 p.m. on the Comcast cable system on HBOe, Channel 550, and on HBOHDe, Channel 651. It airs at 10 p.m. on HBOw, on Channel 551.
"It's a peaceful place," Dutcher said of Arlington.
"You can't experience that through the television or books. It's sacred and peaceful. It's absolutely gorgeous.
"It's impeccable and beautiful. I can't come up with enough wordsto describe it.
"I'm proud of Michael. I would change what happened to him if there was any way I could, but with the way things happened, I am honored to have Michael in Arlington."
Dutcher has been mother to eight children, including three she bore, three she adopted after her sister died, and two stepsons. She married Dean Pursel, Michael's father, when both were serving in the Army.
"We knew since (Michael) was 2 that he would join the military," said Dutcher, now married to Jeffrey Dutcher, a retired military man.
"Michael joined between his 11th- and 12th-grade years. When he picked infantryman (as his preferred assignment), we knew he would be one of the guys in the streets.
"We were concerned about the danger, but his joy at being able to do it overrode our concerns. He was excited about living his dream."
Dutcher returned from her own assignment in Iraq in January 2007. She and her son, by then a corporal in the U.S. Army, talked by phone whenever they could.
"He would tell me about how they would walk the streets and go through homes, and how the Iraqis would give them water and invited them to stay the night," Dutcher said.
"The locals were appreciative. He was even learning to speak Iraqi. He told me he had earned his combat infrantryman's badge, and he told me not to worry."
Pursel's last phone call came on May 6, 2007, a Saturday. The next day, at 1:10 p.m., Jeffrey Dutcher opened the door to an Army official and a military chaplain.
"They didn't have to say anything," Terry Dutcher said. "We knew. They had the document in their hands."
Pursel, six other soldiers and a Russian journalist had been traveling in a Stryker combat vehicle when they were hit by an improvised explosive device. All but the driver had been killed.
Pursel, who had just turned 19, was dead after serving 18 months.
Mourning is an ongoing process.
"Some days are better than others," Dutcher said. "I still have my days. I don't want to say I have come to accept Michael's death, because I can never accept it. I can accept that it is real now. It didn't used to feel real.
"I used to count the days. Every Sunday at 1:10 in the afternoon would be horrible. After a year, I stopped counting the days and started counting months.
"I have more good days now."
Dutcher said she hopes to visit the grave where her son's ashes are buried twice a year.
"It's not like 'living' there," she said, remembering her son's wishes.
"It sounds strange to say, but Arlington's not really a sad place. Sometimes we have picnics there, and tell stories. Sometimes we meet other family members, and find a lot in common.
"When I was in Iraq, we lost a major, a man from security forces and another young man in a helicopter accident. I went to their services in Iraq, but I never knew where they went home to.
"Major Gilbert is buried, like, 5 feet from Michael, and the other two are in Arlington, as well. It's a place that combat buddies go home to. I like to think they are together, and they are happy now."
There are restrictions on who can be buried at Arlington.
Among those allowed are troops killed on active duty, or who die after completing 20 years of service, or who die after being awarded certain specific military honors.
"People don't understand what you have to give to get in there," Dutcher said.
"The requirements are tough. They are heroes. The people buried at Arlington went above and beyond to help someone else. They gave of themselves for the safety of others."
On one trip to Arlington, Dutcher met a stranger who seemed to understand.
"She was a lady from Germany who spoke very little English, but we managed to communicate. She e-mailed me later, from Germany, and expressed her thankfulness for what Michael had done, and for what all the soldiers had done.
"I can't say for sure if I were in Germany that I would think to go visit one of their national cemeteries. I'm not sure if most people really understand the profound nature of the sacrifice these men and women have made.
"I thought it was kind of neat."
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