For most of us, Memorial Day is the “unofficial” first day of Summer: a time for family get togethers, trips to the beach, and afternoon barbecues. It’s usually nothing more than a three-day weekend bookending the summer with Labor Day on the other end, a brief respite from the workweek grind, soon forgotten come Tuesday morning.

Ironically, the last thing Memorial Day should be is a day to forget, as it is quite literally a day of remembrance, the only day that our nation officially sets aside to preserve the memories of those who have passed.

It is our tradition on this day to focus on those who have fallen while in the service of our nation. As a former military man, this day has greater significance for it causes me to remember comrades and friends who died while in the service of their country in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Today is also a day of gratitude. Gratitude for the selflessness of others and gratitude for my own health and safety. As luck and circumstances would have it, it was not my destiny to serve in battle. It is difficult to not feel some level of regret that others died while I got to enjoy my family and my freedom. However, my life and the freedoms I enjoy are the gifts of their service, gifts that I must remember to willingly receive, so as to not disregard their sacrifice.

On this day, I thought I’d briefly share my thoughts about three brothers in arms who have died in Iraq and Afghanistan. To my knowledge they are the only of my friends and former comrades who have died in battle. By remembering them today I hope to help their light to shine a bit longer. Through memory I can in my own way help them to live again.

JAMES F. ADAMOUSKI. CAPTAIN, AVIATION, US ARMY.

I last saw Jimmy on a training mission in Grafenwoehr, Germany, probably sometime in 1998 or 1999. I was a lieutenant assigned to the 1st Battalion, 508th Airborne and Jimmy was a helicopter pilot supporting our operations. As the Air Operations officer for the battalion, I was responsible for coordinating all of our fixed and rotary wing aircraft operations and couldn’t keep the smile off my face when I learned that my liaison to the helicopter company supporting us on a big air assault mission was none other than Jimmy Adamouski. Jimmy flew me all of over our training area during the month we were working together, which was a blast because I got to enjoy his incredible sense of humor and positive outlook on life while chatting with him on the radio headsets in his Blackhawk helicopter.

Jimmy and I were West Point classmates and I got to know him through one of my roommates who was a teammate with Jimmy on the Army soccer team. I think the one thing that most people would remember about Jimmy was his sense of humor. He was loose, open, and gregarious, and literally everybody loved him. He didn’t seem like your typical military type, and definitely not your typical Harvard type (Jimmy had been accepted to Harvard Business School just months before his death), which is probably why he was so successful in just about every thing he did. He wore life “like a loose garment,” a trait I to which I still aspire to this day.

After Jimmy’s death, I’ve often thought of those days in Germany flying in the back of his Blackhawk as a little gift I received before his passing on. Stealing time. Telling jokes with Jimmy while flying nap-of-the-earth over a simulated firefight is an experience like none other. We weren’t best friends while young cadets at West Point, but he sure treated me like one when when we reunited in Germany as “grown-up” lieutenants, and for that I am forever grateful. My heart goes out to his family, his wife, and his soccer teammates who were graced with an even larger experience of being close to Jimmy.

JOHN “HANS” KURTH. CAPTAIN, INFANTRY. US ARMY.

I first met Hans during the summer between Plebe (Freshman) and Yearling (Softmore) year while at West Point. We were in the same Field Training Company, and later he joined my former Academic Year Cadet Company, D-4. During our senior year, we picked the same branch: infantry, and along with about 200 hundred other West Point classmates, became brothers-in-arms for life.

I would describe Hans as extremely smart, extremely disciplined, and liked by all. He was a cadet Company commander while at West Point and enjoyed the respect of commissioned officers, classmates, and underclass cadets. He was also physically tough and very dependable.

What I loved about Hans was that he was a straight shooter. He was stable, grounded, and even tempered. (All qualities I aspire to). Although we never served together – he was assigned to the 82nd Airborne, while I went to Italy – I can only imagine the respect he must have enjoyed while leading men in combat in Iraq. My heart goes out to the young son he left behind, who I am sure will be a wonderful, humane, selfless man someday, just like his dad.

MICHAEL S. CURRY, FIRST SERGEANT, INFANTRY, US ARMY.

During my final year assigned to the 1st Battalion, 508th Infantry in Vicenza, Italy, I was the Battalion Air Operations officer. Fortunately, I was backed up in this job by one of the most capable, intelligent, and well-liked non-commissioned officers in the battalion, Sergeant Mike Curry. Mike was a Ranger and Master Paratrooper, who had been lucky enough to serve multiple tours at the army’s premier duty station, Caserma Ederle, in the gorgeous town of Vicenza, Italy. Due to his incredible experience both as a paratrooper and as a soldier familiar with the huge logistics that go into running air operations out of a foreign country with volumous bureaucracy like Italy, he made my job quite frankly rather easy and most importantly, a whole lot of fun.

Mike had the intelligence, wit, and charisma to have easily been a commissioned officer himself, so I was often able to tag-team with him on a lot of the work that came across our desk. And as the only forward-deployed Airborne battlion in Europe, we were plenty busy. But Mike had a lightness with which he operated. He made things look easy and he rarely had his feathers ruffled.

The most remarkable aspect of his character was his sense of humor and zest for life, summed up in that enormous glowing smile of his. We had several running jokes and would greet each other in a uniquely profane way whenever we saw each other outside of the office and around post. Even though the customs of the military officially prevented us from “fraternizing,” I can proudly say that Mike Curry was my friend.

Mike leaves behind a beautiful Italian wife and several gorgeous children. I am saddened that his brilliant smile and easy charm no longer grace this world and the lives of those who loved him. He enriched me as a man and as an army officer and guided me to be a better leader. For that I am eternally grateful.