Today’s tribute comes from Master Sergeant B.G. in honor of Sergeant First Class Mike Goble.
Every year, Memorial Day hits differently for those of us who’ve lost someone we served beside. For me, it’s a time to remember my friend, my teammate, and my brother-in-arms, Sergeant First Class Michael J. Goble.
Mike was killed in action in December 2019 in Kunduz Province, Afghanistan. He was only 33. We were on the same team for a few years before he transferred over to Operational Detachment Alpha (ODA or the A-team) 7132. Even after that, we still ended up working together including the same fights and the same missions. There was always some good-natured trash talking between us, but underneath it all, he was my mentor from day one.
We even went through Military Freefall Jumpmaster and ATIC together. Those courses weren’t easy, but having Mike there made them more bearable as we pushed each other, laughed when we probably shouldn’t have, and had each other’s backs like always.
There’s one day I’ll never forget. Christmas Day, 2019. That was the day I escorted Mike’s body home to his family at Dover Air Force Base. I can’t put into words how hard that was. Watching his loved ones greet the casket, feeling the weight of everything we’d done and lost. It was the worst day of my life.
But there’s a memory that stands out even more, our last conversation. Our teams had been operating in different provinces for a couple of months. The day before he was killed we moved to their FOB to prepare for a joint op. While we were getting our gear ready, Mike and I sat down and talked. Not just a regular conversation, we really talked. We laughed a lot, shared future plans, and joked about the ridiculous stuff we’d been through together. It was the best conversation I ever had with him.
A few hours later, we got the call. A MASCAL (massive casualty event) had occurred and Mike was critically wounded. Myself and others waited outside the TMC (troop medical center) while the medics worked on him, holding onto any hope we could. Then the doctor came out and told us he was gone.
If I had one more chance to say something to him, I’d probably call him a “Dink” as that’s how he always greeted me. Then I’d just say, Thanks for being my friend. Where friends normally provide guidance and advice, I didn’t get any specific learnings from my time with him in the traditional sense.
I learned by watching his actions. Mike showed me what it meant to work harder than anyone else, to stay longer, train harder, and push past excuses. Whether it was building the most squared-away intel products or sharpening skills on the range, Mike gave everything he had. He didn’t do it for praise, he did it so we could be the best and bring our guys home.
This Memorial Day, I’m thinking of Mike. Not just the soldier, but the man who could make you laugh in the worst conditions, who never stopped grinding, and who never let you forget how much you mattered.
Here’s to you, brother.
MSG B.G.
