05/22/2026
๐ ๐ฒ๐บ๐ผ๐ฟ๐ถ๐ฎ๐น ๐๐ฎ๐: ๐ง๐ฒ๐น๐น ๐ง๐ต๐ฒ๐ถ๐ฟ ๐ฆ๐๐ผ๐ฟ๐ถ๐ฒ๐
As I often do for Memorial Day, I tell the story of my best friend in the world, Captain Brad (โPigโ) Kelly, United States Marine Corps. I firmly believe there is no greater honor we may render for our fallen but to tell their stories โ often.
Brad and I flew F/A-18Ds with the Green Knights of VMFA(AW)-121. The Green Knights were the first two-seat F/A-18D squadron established in the Marine Corps, and as a consequence it was filled with very seasoned pilots and flight officers from other retired or retiring platforms like the F-4, A-6 and OV-10. Brad and I were among a very small group of Lieutenants who joined the squadron as it was forming straight from flight school, so we were the young bucks of this salty, veteran squadron. In fact, we all went through F-18 training together as a new squadron, which only added to our edge, competitiveness, fire and bond. We were old school in a new jet. Lethal.
In the Gulf War, our mission was to fly at relatively low altitudes to find targets, mark them with rockets and call in air support from Marine, Navy and Air Force bombers holding at higher altitudes. This mission is called Forward Air Control (Airborne) or โFAC(A).โ No aircraft could drop ordnance in Kuwait without a โcleared hotโ from our squadron. We kept two ships airborne over Kuwait 24 hours per day every day of the hostilities.
These seasoned aviators flew into any nastiness, flew with aggression, and delivered devastation on the Iraqi invaders. We were relentless. We refused no mission. We were more than a bit mean. And we carried out our around-the-clock missions with a gallows humor which bonds a combat unit for life.
That was the flying culture in which Brad and I grew up as young Lieutenants. In the early months since our squadron formed around the new F/A-18D, we had a few small work-up detachments for exercises about our war-time FAC(A) mission, and the next thing you knew, we were flying jets across the Atlantic Ocean to join a war about to begin.
We survived a war together. It bonds veterans in ways hard to describe. But on returning home from the war, I received crushing news which shattered my young Marine officer world. Brad and I were best friends to be certain, but what he did for me in being my roommate for the rest of that year sincerely saved me.
Then we deployed to Japan for a normal Marine Corps rotation. As I have written before, Brad and his pilot were flying from Singapore to Japan during a deployment movement across the Pacific. During aerial refueling, the refueling basket snapped and left wires trailing alongside the aircraft. Brad briefly unstrapped from his seat to inspect the operation of the aircraftโs vertical stabilizer. During that moment, the aircraft departed controlled flight and the pilot initiated ejection without knowing Brad had unstrapped.
Recovery teams later found Brad in the jungles of Malaysia.
I escorted Brad home to his parents in Illinois.
Brad was my best friend.
That was May 29, 1992.
My youngest son, Cole, is a racecar driver. In May of 2023, we traveled to Illinois for one of his races. During the trip, I took him to Bradโs gravesite. I had not been there since I brought Brad home to his family. I wasnโt ready to face it.
But I had something intentional I wanted Cole to see. A fact I had not shared with him previously.
Brad died on May 29.
Cole was born on May 29.
I carried that connection privately for years.
Standing beside Bradโs grave with my son next to me overwhelmed me in a way I did not expect. I cried. At one point, Cole quietly placed his hand on my shoulder while we stood there together. I thanked him for being there with me, because I knew I could not have handled that moment without him.
Then I understood why: the silent strength of my young sonโs hand on my shoulder felt as if God himself was sending a clear message. I was sent a son precisely on May 29 to change that day forever. I could let go of my grief and celebrate my son.
God never gives us more than we can bear.
Now, on May 29, which always falls around Memorial Day, I recall two of the greatest men in my life: my best friend and my son.
We tell the stories. We never allow the memory to extinguish. We never allow the service to our country to fade.
That is how we express our gratitude. Tell their stories.
Have a cherished Memorial Day. Tell their stories.
I love you, Brad (Pig). I love you, Cole.
