From KERA News:
Twenty years ago — near the start of the Iraq War — U.S. military forces moved into a city they knew would be more dangerous than most.
Gunnery Sgt. Aubrey McDade Jr., barely in his 20s, was warned Bravo Company would have no back up or medical support for at least 43 minutes.
And he was told his unit couldn’t move back where three wounded Marines had fallen. Only move forward.
He took off anyway, through a rain of bullets, to carry them to safety during the second battle of Fallujah — the bloodiest battle of that war.
McDade raced into the “Kill Zone,” and tore away the heavy gear weighing him down.
He carried the wounded men, one by one, and laid them down at a “casualty collection point.”
“My pastor told me ‘Sometimes God will block your vision to protect your heart,’ he said. “That’s the hardest part about that fight was, in less than 24 hours, man, our platoon went from the main effort to damn near combat ineffective. And all the Marines want to cry now. It’s real for us now.”
Retired U.S. Marine Corps Gunnery Sgt. Aubrey McDade Jr. sits with retired Lance Corporal Wade “Sid” Turner at Dallas’s Terry Black’s BBQ restaurant in Deep Ellum Sept. 6, 2024.
Marina Trahan Martinez / KERA
He was awarded the Navy Cross on Jan. 19, 2007 for his bravery during that mid-November firefight.
McDade is still saving people — back home in North Texas.
Growing up on the south side of Fort Worth he saw domestic violence, crack addiction and no money or food. He now shares two decades worth of reflection and compassion to help youth and adults make it through their own challenges.
The pain he’s seen
In Terry Black’s Deep Ellum parking lot, McDade Jr. grins.
Eyeballs, click — he scans the distance.
The former drill instructor can’t help himself. He calls cadence — drills a young new Marine across the asphalt.
His eyes give away the tough image.
Those eyes have seen pain.
Abuse in his childhood, then, death in combat.
He shares the experiences with youth and young adults through his ministry, LIFE Changer. LIFE — an acronym for LOVE, INVEST, FORGIVE, EXAMPLE.
“There’s so much power in understanding that we had such close proximity to death,” he said. “You really could see the devil’s ass. It was that. It was like that. But to be able to go out here and tell these kids the same thing, ‘I know you feel like the world is giving you its behind to kiss,’ but this is a workout plan, that’s it. We’re just building some muscle and getting strong.”
McDade wants to strengthen their spirits so they can understand that temporary problems don’t have to be life-changing.
Retired U.S. Marines Gunnery Sgt. Aubrey McDade Jr. prepares to call cadence and drill a new Marine across Dallas’s Terry Black’s BBQ restaurant in Deep Ellum.
Marina Trahan Martinez / KERA
“Long gone are the days [of] ‘Do it because I said do it,’” he said. “So now I have these conversations with adults ’cause a lot of us aren’t healthy as well. And you can’t get in here in front of these kids and act like they can’t see your spirit. ‘Cause you got a light on too.
“And if your light is dim, kids will say ‘Ay man, you gotta tighten your light bulb up, it’s flickering.’ But a kid can’t tell you that ’cause you’re gonna try to punk ‘em and say, ‘Well I’m an adult you’re a kid, stay in a kid’s place.’ Well that bird don’t fly around here no more.”
Keshawn Rubell says McDade’s Marine Corps values changed the direction of his life.
Values like discipline, commitment and honesty.
Senior year, Rubell paid attention to a speech by McDade, who he calls “Gunny.”
“We wasn’t really trying to hear it ’cause we had multiple guest speakers come up” he said. “But, as he was talking about it, just about growing up, I just knew I could relate to it. It just instantly clicked my attention to him.”
Rubell had been kicked out of Dunbar High School in Fort Worth for fighting.
He was wearily working at IHOP and Walmart after school. His family experienced homelessness. And he thought about choosing a criminal lifestyle to change all that.
Raised by only his mom, McDade gave the struggling Rubell a template for an honorable man.
“He definitely felt like a father figure at times,” he said. “And it gave my mental space a type of security to want to do better. He made me believe in myself a lot more — a lot more, actually.”
Rubell is now a Texas Wesleyan University Rams safety. And he’s working on a degree in Sports Communications.
“It’s a blessing that he came into to my life,” he said. “He did save my life in a way — and not even just physically. Mentally, he did as well.”
Trauma and healing
There’s not a question McDade won’t answer or a story he won’t tell.
Like the words of one Marine right before his jaw was blown off.
“I was haunted years by [Jacob] Knospler saying, ‘Stop making all that…” He was about to say ‘Marines stop making all that [expletive] noise,’ but he didn’t have time to say it because two grenades come down a ladder well and explode and blow his mandible off,” McDade said.
He shares traumatic stories from his childhood, too.
“My sister was being born in the hospital,” he said. “My dad was incarcerated for whatever he was incarcerated for. ”
His father, Aubrey McDade Sr., was later shot and killed by police.
McDade and his brother were being babysat by a male relative during Christmastime.
“I’m in kindergarten and I remember this pedophile talking to my brother…”
He diverted the relative’s attention from his brother “…and he does all this stuff to me.”
By sharing his trauma, McDade has helped many people like Rubell in North Texas. And he saved Marines in Iraq. But he couldn’t save everyone.
Tom Foreman interviewed McDade in the 2007 CNN documentary Anvil of God.
“We lost 13 people,” McDade said in the documentary. “The whole Navy Cross thing, I would throw that crap back if I could get the guys that we lost that day back.”
Marines who were with him in Fallujah want to upgrade “Dae Dae’s” Navy Cross to a Medal of Honor.
That effort is being led by Wade “Sid” Turner of Fort Worth. He’s even reached out to Texas Sen. John Cornyn’s office for help.
The Oak Cliff-raised Marine served with McDade in peace and war times.
He and the rest of 1st Battalion, 8th Regiment, Bravo Company bear the loss of their fellow brothers whose lives couldn’t be saved.
“McDade was always a leader. But to have one of our own be up there to represent everything that happened on the battlefield, not just him alone, it means a lot, I think, to all the guys,” Turner said.
