Fifty Feet from the Blast: A Memorial Day Story
As Sergeant Keith E. Fiscus walked up and greeted me by my call sign, he said, “Hey Pickle, I want to go to Baghdad to help my corporal with his promotion board to sergeant, do you mind if we switch shifts?”
That was one of the last conversations I had with Keith.
Shortly after trading shifts and a mission I was destined to take, his Humvee—was struck by a large, deeply buried improvised explosive device (IED). The explosion was so powerful it launched the Humvee into the air throwing it 50 feet from the blast site.
Keith was barely conscious when help arrived. One of his final words was to ask about his teammate, who survived but was evacuated to Walter Reed Hospital in Washington, D.C., with serious injuries.
Keith, myself, and five others comprised a joint counter-IED team attached to an Army Explosive Ordnance Disposal (EOD) unit in Taji, Iraq, from 2006 to 2007. Our team consisted of four Air Force personnel, a federal law enforcement officer, and two Army infantrymen. Keith had the most combat experience among us, including time with Army Special Forces. We relied heavily on his tactical knowledge when we operated “outside the wire”—off base, in active combat zones.
I first met Keith during our months-long training program in the D.C. metro area. We were trained by former British Army EOD personnel, federal agencies, and military experts on everything from post-blast evidence collection and crime scene photography to interviewing witnesses and writing reports. The mission combined a unique mix of Air Force EOD and intelligence professionals, federal law enforcement agents, and Army infantry to ensure we were technically and tactically effective in combat.
Anyone familiar with inter-service rivalries knows that Air Force intel (me) and Army infantry (Keith) are, let’s say, culturally different. But true to the military tradition of “work hard, play hard,” we spent our off-hours at local bars. At first, we stuck to our own groups. Over time, though, the branches began to blend, as did the friendships.
As one of the youngest and most introverted teammates, I kept a low profile. But Keith, a natural leader, pulled me into his world. We became brothers—an unlikely pair. When not at the bar, we’d explore Washington, D.C., and have long, intense conversations about war, duty, and death. With no combat experience at the time, I listened more than I spoke. I remember him telling me his perfect death would be in combat, fighting for the United States of America.
It’s been nearly 20 years since Keith was killed in Iraq, but I still think about him every day. He was my big brother—the guy who took the nerdy Air Force intel kid under his wing. In Iraq, even though we alternated 24-hour shifts, we found time to connect, train, and talk. He taught me advanced tactics, helped me improve at the range, and showed how to lead through quiet strength. He never showed fear and was always the first to help anyone in need.
Now, two decades later, I have a wife, three kids, and a life Keith never got to experience. I often wonder what he’d be doing today. Would he still be in the Army, training the next generation of soldiers? Or would he be back in Delaware, married with kids? Maybe he’d be living his dream of touring in a rock band—a dream he joked about while showing me the sleeve of tattoos on his arm, each with its own story.
This Memorial Day, I encourage you to take a few moments between the barbecues and lake trips to learn about someone like Keith. Visit the Department of Defense website, read a fallen soldier’s story, or watch a video tribute online. Say a prayer for them. Say a prayer for their families.
Behind every name etched in granite, behind every flag laid on a grave, is a story like Keith’s—of sacrifice, friendship, service to our nation, and of lives forever changed.
Joe Olive is a 10-year Air Force veteran who currently works as a Financial Advisor for the Sather Financial Group, a fee-only strategic planning and investment management firm. He holds a master’s degree from Columbia University.