Bonded by Loss, Divided by War

Parents of Casualties in Marine Unit Torn on U.S. Role in Iraq

UNIONTOWN, Ohio -- Bob Derga searches for purpose on a flat terrace behind his house, overlooking the woods. On one side is a weeping cherry tree. On the other, above the Marine Corps seal, is a chiseled stone: "If love could have saved you, you would have lived forever."

Amid the sadness that has looped through his life since the death in Iraq of his only son, Derga has found a spark that drives him to defend President Bush, the war and the troops who are fighting it. He has begun to speak out, urging Americans "to have the guts as a nation to stay the course."

Forty miles north, Paul Schroeder and Rosemary Palmer, whose only son lived and died in the same Marine Reserve unit as Derga's son, have also been driven by anguish to speak out. But they do not believe in this war or this president or in staying the course.

They are convinced that their son's life was wasted. They want negotiations to begin, the war to end and the troops to come home.

One war, one Marine unit, two pained families divided about the way forward.

To talk with the parents is to see reflected a real debate, grounded in searing loss, about the war's wisdom. It is also to witness a powerful connection felt toward one another by the Gold Star families of Lima Company, 3rd Battalion, 25th Marines.

"It's amazing that all of us can be so far apart politically, but we can joke and sit down and tell stories about our sons. Above all, there is a mutual respect," Derga said. "We all know what we've gone through."

The strongest bond, Palmer said, is that the parents "all had our hearts torn out."

Columbus-based Lima Company spent seven months in Anbar province last year and lost more troops than any other U.S. military unit in the war. What many had expected would be relatively safe duty -- perhaps guarding a base -- turned into grueling weeks of combat.

Twenty-three Marines died, blown up by roadside bombs or killed by insurgents.

As the peril intensified, Marines in crisp uniforms began showing up at homes in Ohio, solemnly informing parents that a coffin would soon carry their young man home. Cpl. Dustin A. Derga, 24, was the first, shot during an assault on a house in Ubaydi, just east of the Syrian border.

His father, an engineer at Diebold, prayed hard after he heard the news. He soon sent an e-mail telling other Lima parents that they and the nation must buck up, lest Dustin and others have died in vain. He and his wife, Marla, Dustin's stepmother, began attending military funerals to honor the dead and embrace the newly grieving.