Jason Dean Cunningham
Senior Airman, United States Air Force     New Mexico State Flag
Book details war heroism of airman
Military medic was awarded the Air Force Cross posthumously
 October 3, 2005

Jason & Theresa Cunningham

Airman Jason Cunningham, a military medic with ties to Ventura County, moved his wounded comrades to safety three times while exposing himself to enemy fire that eventually cut him down, according to a new book about his death on a snowy mountainside in Afghanistan.

Cunningham was married to Rio Mesa High School graduate Theresa de Castro, a resident of Camarillo, while both were in the Navy.

The 26-year-old Air Force pararescueman, or medic, was killed in combat on March 2, 2002.

His funeral was in Camarillo, and he was buried at Arlington National Cemetery.

"I talked to one guy, a surgeon who was waiting for him to come in," said author Malcom MacPherson, whose book is among a small number that give detailed accounts of Afghanistan combat. "He told me Jason was the spiritual center of the whole medical team out there."

MacPherson based his book, "Roberts Ridge," on the words of those who were there, including Navy SEALs, Army Rangers, medics, combat air controller and pilots. It provides hour-by-hour details on the events leading up to the death of Cunningham and six other Americans during a battle with Taliban and al-Qaida guerrillas.

The men fought a 17-hour battle that began as an attempt to rescue Neil Roberts, a SEAL who earlier had been thrown from a helicopter shredded by Taliban and al-Qaida fire. The helicopter limped to safety in a valley, but Roberts was stranded high on the 10,240-foot mountain called Takur Ghar.

By the time two rescue helicopters carrying combat personnel and medics arrived on the scene, Roberts was dead. The choppers were quickly disabled by guerrilla fire and the long battle began.

Cunningham was killed while protecting and giving medical treatment to wounded men. Three times he moved them from the line of fire, each time exposing himself to enemy fire.

He and Army medic Cory Lamereaux picked up weapons and fought off a counterattack for 40 minutes before both were shot.

According to MacPherson, Lamereaux was hit in the belly. He suffered intense pain but survived.

Cunningham was shot once through the small of his back to the right of his spine through his pelvis. The bullet shattered his liver. Despite his pain, he checked his body, did not see blood and yelled to Lamereaux, "I think I'm OK."

MacPherson said another medic, Matt LaFrenz, a premed graduate of Vanderbilt University, rushed to the men. He examined Cunningham and believed the airman was bleeding internally.

Cunningham was lucid, surprised and angry: "This is bull. ... Cannot believe they shot me," he told LaFrenz.

The medic knew Cunningham had to get to a surgical team right away. Army Capt. Nate Self, commander of the rescue attempt, kept calling the main base, asking for -- and then demanding -- a medivac helicopter.

But it was daytime, and the two wounded helicopter pilots on the mountain knew no helicopter would be sent in until five or six hours later, after dark when it was safer.

The medics did everything to try to keep Cunningham alive. They cut down padding from the walls of a crippled helicopter and tucked it inside his sleeping bag for warmth.

They talked to him to keep him alert, injected him with morphine for pain.

But nothing could keep him from slipping away. The former sailor, who had become an Air Force pararescueman because he wanted to help others, died at 6 p.m.

The medivac arrived 90 minutes later.

Last week, neither Theresa Cunningham nor Jason Cunningham's parents had read MacPherson's book. They said they might not read it.

For his extraordinary heroism, Jason Cunningham posthumously received the Air Force Cross, an award second only to the nation's highest award, the Medal of Honor.

"I think he got ripped off," said his mother, Jackie Cunningham of Farmington, N.M. "I will never understand why he didn't get the Medal of Honor.

"There's not an hour that goes by that I don't think of him. Because of what my son did, those other wounded men are living with their families."

"I am so proud that they are still honoring him," said Cunningham's widow, now Air Force 1st Lt. Theresa Cunningham, a flight controller at Fairchild Air Force Base near Spokane, Wash.

"A compound at Bagram Air Base in Afghanistan has been named Camp Cunningham and, in 2007, a portion of the basic training facility at Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio will be named in honor of Jason," said Cunningham, a 1989 graduate of Rio Mesa High School.

Currently, her hopes are to make the Air Force a career while raising her and Jason's daughters Kyla, 8, and Hannah, 5.

"The military has a lot of respect for its history, and people here try to help us out," she said. About the book:
Title: "Roberts Ridge: A Story of Courage and Sacrifice on Takur Ghar Mountain, Afghanistan."
Author: Malcolm MacPherson.
Pages: 338 pages, illustrated, hardback
Publisher: Bantam Dell, a division of Random House.

Cost: $25.
Thursday, March 4, 2004

Carlsbad Hero Honored
By Miguel Navrot

Moody Air Force Base in Georgia is naming one of its schools today for Senior Airman Jason Cunningham, a Carlsbad native and pararescueman who was killed saving 10 servicemen in Afghanistan.

Moody is dedicating its Airman Leadership School in Cunningham's honor on the two-year anniversary of a bloody Afghanistan firefight.

Cunningham, 26, a posthumously decorated Air Force hero, helped save 10 wounded in 2002 on a snowy mountain in Operation Anaconda, a mission to uproot Taliban and al-Qaida fighters.

A member of the Air Force's elite rescue service, he gave medical treatment under fire for seven hours to the wounded— despite being shot twice. Cunningham bled to death March 4, 2002, before rescue helicopters could save him.

"I never want anyone to forget what my son did," said mother Jackie Cunningham of Gallup.

The two years since his death have been devastating to his mother and father. Mrs. Cunningham said she still finds herself dialing her son's cell phone "because there is still something I want to tell him."

"I feel like somebody kicked me in the stomach, and I still can't catch my breath," said Cunningham, who stays in contact with parents of other service members killed in the bloodiest day in the Afghanistan war.

"I'm a lot better in a lot of ways, but there still isn't a day when I don't cry."

Seven U.S. service members died in the firefight against entrenched al-Qaida forces.

Cunningham is buried in Arlington National Cemetery. In September 2002, the service posthumously awarded him its highest honor, the Air Force Cross. She carries on with memories of her hero
10/5/03

Lieutenant Theresa Cunningham doesn't care what others think.

What matters is that her two daughters know that their father, Senior Airman Jason Cunningham, was a hero.

Not for the battlefield actions that led to his death in Afghanistan in March 2002, but for things he did every day as a dad and husband.

"There was nothing that anyone will ever say about him that I didn't know. He was heroic day to day," she said. "I used to say he's my hero and that was his favorite thing."

After her husband's death, she became a commissioned officer upon graduating from Valdosta University in Georgia. She arrived this summer at Vandenberg Air Force Base, where she is a public affairs officer. Their daughters, whose names she asked be withheld, are ages 6 and 3.

"I got to know the coolest guy. I think the kids should be thankful," Theresa said. "He was a hero to them and other people too."

Theresa DeCastro met Jason Cunningham when both were in the Navy, and she had just arrived at her first assignment in Italy. It was Sept. 21, 1995.

"A day to remember," she said.

"He was actually the first person I thought on contact I'm going to know this guy forever," she said, recalling Jason had a strong personality and exuded enthusiasm.

They became buddies. "A month in, he's like, 'Are you my girlfriend?'" she said. "Shortly after he said, 'You're going to marry me."

Five months later they were wed.

Both left the Navy in 1998. A volunteer firefighter and lifeguard, Jason loved the Navy, but wasn't able to do what he wanted -- be a search-and-rescue swimmer. They had a daughter and Theresa's next assignment on board a ship would mean six months apart from her husband and daughter.

But the military was in their blood. She was scoping out the Navy officer training program. Jason came home after talking to a recruiter and learning of a Special Forces job.

Operating under the motto "That others may live," pararescue jumpers save the lives of downed pilots and others in peril. They are trained as medics. Their skills include skydiving, rappelling and swimming.

"That was him," she said. "The job was made for him."

After he completed training over more than two years, in June 2001, he was ordered to Moody Air Force Base, Ga., where Theresa and the girls followed him. She enrolled in a college ROTC program.

Jason often bypassed nights out with buddies to be at home with his girls.

"His time off was definitely family time," she said. "He was a very enthusiastic father."

On Sept. 11, 2001, Jason was in Florida for a temporary duty mission.

When he returned, she recalls him saying, "This is it. We're definitely going to go support the war."

On Feb. 4, 2002, a phone message advised her of a meeting for deployed spouses.

"For some reason, I decided to go to that," she said. "It was weird. It was one o'clock in the afternoon that day. I got out of class at 12 so I drove straight over there. That's when they told us, 'They're leaving tomorrow.'"

They had planned to take a family portrait that night, but Theresa recalls fretting that those plans fell through.

"It's a sign," she recalled telling Jason.

He left for Operation Enduring Freedom at 5 a.m. Feb. 5.

In March, he e-mailed and said, "I might be home sooner than you think," she recalls.

The next day news reports told of a helicopter crash where seven people died.

"I thought, Oh my God," she said, adding she called his work. "I kind of stressed the whole day."

Before going to sleep, she called Jason's supervisor and received reassurance.

At 5 a.m. she woke up to begin a new day, feeling calmer and confident.

"I actually felt I would've known by now," she said.

A knock on the door changed her life. She opened it to see Jason's squadron commander, a chaplain and others.

One asked, "Are you Theresa Cunningham?"

Another answered yes when she didn't

"I think it was when they took a step in the house that I knew he wasn't coming home."

In the weeks after his death, tales of his battlefield heroism came out. While troops came under enemy fire, Jason administered medical care even as he was wounded.

Jason is buried in Arlington National Cemetery. He is one of less than two dozen airman awarded the Air Force Distinguished Cross Medal.

In Washington, D.C., last month, Theresa learned how her husband's death affected others. While chatting with Honor Guard members, she spoke with one who served on the funeral detail for Senior Airman Jason Cunningham.

"He didn't know who I was. He was just speaking," she said, recalling the conversation with the flag bearer from her husband's burial service. "He said, "That was the saddest thing. That really hurt a lot of us. That one was tough.'"

Today, she wears Air Force blue proudly, but worries about her daughters. She sought public affairs instead of intelligence with her daughters' in mind, worrying about time apart from the girls.

"I think that's one thing that military officers need to come to an understanding that losing a parent has a complete impact on a child," she said. "For myself, I lost my spouse. I lost my best friend. I lost a future in a way, but I will have my memories of him. I'm not 5 years old where I would have spent a lifetime with someone molding and shaping me."

Still, she considers herself lucky in some ways.

"The fact is he knew we were happy. The last things we said to each other were, 'I love you.' I think the story was complete in a way." From contemporary press reports:

September 13, 2002:

There have been times in this country when the armed services dead numbered in the hundreds and sometimes thousands each week.

But the death of one man can still move thousands to tears, and at Kirtland Air Force Base on Friday, the tears flowed freely in memory of Senior Airman Jason Cunningham.

In awarding the Air Force Cross to Cunningham on Friday, Air Force Secretary James G. Roche, his voice breaking, said, "On behalf of a grateful service and a grateful nation, we present this award representing extraordinary heroism as a symbol of our deep gratitude for his service," Roche said.

The medal was presented to Cunningham's widow, Theresa, who pressed a handkerchief to her face and was comforted by Technical Sergeant Keary Miller, who served as a fellow pararescuer with Cunningham in Afghanistan.

Cunningham was killed by enemy fire during a rescue mission March 4, 2002, and was buried March 11, 2002, in Arlington National Cemetery.

Air Force Chief Master Sergeant Gerald Murray said that only 22 airmen have been awarded the Air Force Cross, the service's highest award, and only two, including Cunningham, had received the award since the end of the Vietnam War.

The ceremony began with a film montage of Cunningham's youth, including his years growing up in Carlsbad, and his later years and marriage before going to Afghanistan in February.

In March, Cunningham was among 13 troops in a 52-foot-long Chinook helicopter headed for Takurghar Mountain near the village of Marzak, in the Paktia province.

The al-Qaida forces opened fire, and rocket-propelled grenades ripped into the helicopter. A group of combat troops jumped out of the helicopter and started shooting back, Miller said.

Two American soldiers were initially killed. Miller pulled one to the rear, while Cunningham attended other casualties under sniper and mortar fire.

The Air Force said Cunningham continued treating 10 wounded servicemen, moving them three times, once through a direct line of fire, after he had been shot. He probably saved all their lives. He died seven hours after being hit.

Air strikes were called against the al-Qaida forces, which Miller described as extremely effective.

The Battle of Takurghar was the deadliest day of combat for an American unit since 18 rangers and special operation soldiers died in Mogadishu, Somalia, in 1993.

The Air Force Cross is awarded for extraordinary heroism displayed by U.S. and foreign military personnel and civilians. The only higher award is the Medal of Honor.

The Air Force Cross awarded to Cunningham was only the second awarded since the close of the Vietnam war. The other one was given to Technical Sergeant Timothy A. Wilkinson in 1993 who, like Cunningham, was a pararescuer. Wilkinson repeatedly braved enemy fire while wounded to rescue and treat servicemen who were involved in the Mogadishu battle.

The award ceremony for Cunningham was held in the hangar at Kirtland normally used by 58th Special Operations Wing to train pararescuers, including Cunningham. Many of the people in attendance were fellow pararescuers, here for a reunion. Many civilian spectators, former pararescuers, wore the red beret of PJ, as the pararescuers are called.

The base closed down for the hour-long event that drew thousands of people.

"Thank you for the lives he saved and the service he gave," Air Force Chief Master Sergeant Gerald Murray said to the Cunningham family in his speech.

Most of the men and women crowded inside the hangar were dressed in green camouflage or pressed blue uniforms, many wore the distinctive maroon berets of pararescuers, and many wiped away tears throughout the service.

A 30-foot high U.S. flag draped behind the stage, where four Air Force officials, Cunningham's parents and wife sat quietly.

Theresa Cunningham, dressed in a black dress, took deep breaths and used a white handkerchief to wipe her tears.

Air Force Chief of Staff General John Jumper said Cunningham was an American hero with "supreme dedication" to his job and family.

"Jason did not get a second chance," he said, "But he gave a second chance to others."

Cunningham's commander, Lieutenant Colonel Vincent Savino said he wouldn't expect anything less from the New Mexico airman.

 "Not everyone would do what he did that day," said Savino in an interview. "He went above and beyond. He gave the ultimate sacrifice - his life."

"He had the world in front of him," said Savino, who attended the ceremony from his base in Georgia. "He knew he was going to go places."

Jumper presented Theresa Cunningham and Cunningham's parents, Larry "Red" and Jackie Cunningham of Gallup, each with a jewlery box carrying the gold metal cross topped with a blue ribbon.

Servicemen playing "Amazing Grace" on bagpipes ended the event.

Technical Sergeant Brandon Casteel said afterward the ceremony was an honorable recognition for his best friend, his hero.

"We're all proud of him," said Casteel, who spoke at an earlier memorial service for Cunningham in Georgia.

Casteel said its still hard to accept that Cunningham's not coming back.

When asked what he would do with just one more day to hang out with Cunningham, who loved karate and shooting for sport, Casteel said: "Just talk to him."

"I miss him" said Casteel holding back tears. "I miss my friend."