Dennis J. Miller, Jr.
Private First Class, United States Army
April 1, 1983 – November 10, 2004
Age – 21
LaSalle, MI
Operation Iraqi Freedom
2nd Battalion, 72nd Armor Regiment, 2nd Infantry Division, Camp Casey, Korea
Died when a rocket-propelled grenade struck his M1A1 Abrams tank in Ramadi, Iraq
PFC Miller was a 2001 graduate of Mason High School and studied history at Monroe Community College. His mother said her son loved hunting with his father and uncles, and was an avid golfer. He was a great kid never was in any trouble.
He graduated from basic training and completed M1 tank training in September 2003 at Fort Knox, Ky., and was stationed in Korea. He was home on leave for two weeks in June and reported to Iraq on Sept. 8.
“He just felt honored he could serve our country, especially during war,” his wife of 13 months, Kimberly, told The Monroe Evening News. “I don’t think there was anything more honorable. He just loved life.”
He was remembered by fellow soldiers as follows:
To Miller’s family, I served in White Platoon, Death dealers, 2-72 Armor. Your son was a couple years older than me at that point, but he was an absolute tanker through and through. There were days that the sergeants would have to tell him to put down the technical manuals and read a real book. He was squared-away, which is our way of saying he was always on top of his duties, his responsibilities, and he was a professional through and through. He loved the tanks as much as I did, if not more. If I had to express to you the impact Miller’s life was to those in the company he served with, I could only sum it up as being one of the very best. That is who he is, was, and will be. One of the very best.
Until I see you on higher ground.”
Brandon Fero of Stafford, Texas
“I wrote something here years ago. I knew Denny at Ft. Knox and talked about him being my best friend. Today I see another guy, Lincoln Moore also knew Denny at Ft. Knox and ALSO was best friends with him! What a great kid he was, everybody had a special connection with him. I don’t know. I want Dennis’ family to know how truly loved he was by all of us. I have pictures of him that his family has never seen, from basic training, I would rather that they had these pictures but don’t know how to get them to yall.
Dennis was great. I was a terrible soldier, couldn’t figure anything out on the tank, couldn’t run, couldn’t do sit ups, kept screwing up. But Dennis seemed flawless, he was strong, fast, and smart as hell, good at all the things I was not and better at all the things I _was_ good at! He really wanted to be a soldier while I just wanted to figure a way to get out. When he got orders for Korea and I got mine for Germany, we knew, it being 2003, that I was going straight to Iraq and that he would be in Korea. He was luckier then I at that time and I remember feeling jealous of him just being in Korea while I would be stuck in the war. In those days we never thought the war would continue for years and years and that Dennis would, some day, be going to a worse place than I ever was. Never saw him again after that.
I remember one time we were standing in the rain in our company formation and these guys from 2nd platoon (Dennis always said, “Man, those 2nd platoon guys are a bunch of goons, they look like a row of mugshots!”) got into a scuffle with some guys in our platoon. While three or four guys tussled in the mud and puddles and the rain, Denny creeps up and dumps his canteen on down the back collar of one of the 2nd Platoon guys! It was hilarious and afterwards somebody said, “Miller! It’s raining man and you’re throwing water on people?!” It was hilarious, everybody burst out laughing.
Another time when we got news that Kimberly had been in some car wreck and got hurt, I was hanging out in Dennis’ room when he got the letter. He cried and cried because he couldn’t go home to see her, it was too much – every soldier cries for his loved ones back home at least once. I sat next to him on his cot, we’d been laughing a moment before, I reached out to put a hand to him but I stopped short of his shoulder, too ashamed of myself to comfort him I just sat there telling him, “She’ll be fine man, she knows you can’t come home,” and so forth. Anyhow, I still regret not putting my hand on his shoulder that time, it was silly not to have.
Well that’s all I’ve got right now. Whenever I talk to guys from Ft. Knox we always talk about Miller, and whenever I try to tell other people about him I always struggle to do him justice. But nobody can really ever know what a bright, towering young man he was without having known him well.”
Clifton Hicks of North Carolina