Phila. mother seeks answers in son's death in Afghanistan

In the living room of her home in Philadelphia's Holmesburg section, Cynthia Woodard looked through the Army report she had just received and tried to make sense of her son's death in Afghanistan.

Many of the names and parts of the narrative were replaced by dashes or garbled characters. Some pages were blank. Scores more were removed altogether - for security and privacy reasons, the military said.

Finally, Woodard's eyes fell on a single line and her heart sank:

0630 - Spc. Scusa killed vicinity Blue Barracks.

Spec. Michael Scusa of Villas, Cape May County, was one of eight Americans killed in an insurgent attack Oct. 3 at Combat Outpost Keating in a Hindu Kush valley of Kamdesh, Afghanistan.

The Army's widely publicized loss - the most in one day in that country since July 2008 - prompted a military investigation and anguished questions from family members.

Why was her son stationed in a valley with little cover from enemy fire? Woodard asked. Shouldn't the soldiers have been on high ground?

And who made the decisions that led to their deaths?

"I wanted some closure" from the Army, said Woodard, 52, who wears her son's dog tags. "I wanted to read eyewitness accounts. I want answers.

"All I got were blank pages, and dashes where there were supposed to be descriptions of what happened."

Woodard can only read between the lines and seek information on the Internet from those who served with Scusa.

"Inadequate measures taken by the chain of command" resulted in "an attractive target for enemy fighters," the Army's investigation concluded.

Gen. Stanley A. McChrystal, who heads the International Security Assistance Force and U.S. Forces in Afghanistan, has taken "appropriate action regarding Army personnel involved," the Army said in a recent statement.

He also has "issued guidance to commanders and NCOs [noncommissioned officers] . . . to ensure the lesson learned from the investigation" would help "prevent or mitigate future incidents," the statement said.

That was little comfort to Woodard as she studied the condensed report at home, surrounded by memories of her 22-year-old son.

On a coffee table were framed pictures of Scusa, photo albums, a wooden box containing a folded American flag, and six medals, including his Purple Heart and Bronze Star. A Gold Star service banner hung in the window, announcing to the world that a loved one had died in service to his country.

"We should know the names of the officers who made the decisions," Woodard said. "They should feel the pain we feel. It's been four months now and I cry every day, every time I see his pictures."

Woodard said she wants justice from the Army. "The officers involved in this should lose their careers and not draw their pensions," she said.

She had kept in touch with Scusa by e-mail, sometimes staying up into the early hours to chat with him.

He had served in Afghanistan for five months and his unit - Bravo Troop, Third Squadron, 61st Cavalry, from Fort Carson, Colo. - planned to close Keating.

Scusa's comrades have told her that rumors of their impending departure were leaked to insurgents.

"Michael said they were getting shot at twice a day," Woodard recalled. "They were attacked 47 times during the time he was there" - a fact confirmed in the Army report.

"They shouldn't have been there in the first place, not in the bottom of a bowl," she said. "They were on higher ground when they first got there, but were moved two months later . . . into that pit."

About 3 a.m. on Oct. 3, 300 Taliban-linked militia slipped into the village of Urmol on a ridge above Keating and set up firing positions in buildings and on the hillside, according to the Army. Civilians were forced to leave.

At 5:58 a.m., 50 U.S. soldiers and 90 Afghan military and police personnel at the base came under a torrent of fire from machine guns, mortars, and rocket-propelled grenades.

"The enemy fire came from all sides and notably from positions previously used by enemy forces" in the months before, the Army report said.

The minute-by-minute account of the battle is chillingly terse:

0610 Sgt. [Joshua] Kirk moved from Shura BLDG to aid station with a severe head wound. . . .

0700 Sgt. [Joshua] Hardt reports AAF [anti-Afghan force] on COP [combat outpost] pointing RPG [rocket-propelled grenade] at his position . . . no further comms from Sgt. Hardt during battle.

Within an hour, the soldiers were running out of ammunition, and Scusa and a comrade were ordered to pick up supplies. They were headed back amid the zipping bullets when both were shot.

"The other soldier was shot in the back and dropped to the ground," said Woodard, who has remained in contact with him online.

"He crawled over to Michael and called for medics. But [Scusa] was gone," she said. "The medic said he died instantly. The bullet hit him where his vest didn't cover."

The base's perimeter was breached at three locations during more than six hours of horrific fighting that finally forced the Americans to withdraw "to a tight internal perimeter," the report said.

The attack was broken up only after strikes from U.S. helicopters and planes. Shortly before 1 p.m., the unit finally began to take Keating back, the report said.

Besides the dead, 22 Americans were wounded. At least two Afghan security officers also were killed. Scattered on and around the base were the bodies of more than 150 insurgents, the Army said.

Two days later - on what would have been Scusa's 23d birthday - a grieving Woodard watched her son's flag-draped coffin carried reverently from a C-17 cargo plane as soldiers saluted at Dover Air Force Base in Delaware.

She was joined by Scusa's wife, Alyssa, who lives in Fountain, Colo., with the couple's year-old son, Connor, named after a friend of Scusa's who died in Iraq. Scusa, who served in Iraq for 15 months before being deployed to Afghanistan, was promoted to sergeant posthumously.

"A lot of guys that were with Michael are still over there," Woodard said. "Some were wounded but refused to be Medevaced out because they wanted to finish the job. They didn't want to leave their brothers behind."

All but three of the wounded were returned to duty, the Army said.

Combat Outpost Keating - which was to have closed last summer - had remained open because equipment needed to haul away its supplies had been diverted to other operations, the Army report said. It is now closed.

Previous attacks had been small, leading commanders to think that reports of massing enemy forces were "exaggerated and improbable," the report said.

Despite the risks, Scusa had always wanted to serve in the Army. He eagerly enlisted just before graduating from Lower Cape May Regional High School in 2005.

"I remember the big smile on Michael's face," Woodard said. "I remember him telling jokes and making people laugh. I miss him."

Woodard, who was disabled in a car accident about five years ago, said she has tried to get through her loss with help from the Army's Survivor Outreach Services.

She also has sought help from the Gold Star Mothers, an organization of women who have lost children serving in the military.

Scusa had three siblings: James Woodard, 28, and Susan Woodard, 34, both of Elverson, and John Woodard, 31, of Philadelphia.

"We all believe they [Scusa and his unit] shouldn't have been where they were," James Woodard said. "You shouldn't have your enemies above you. You take the high ground. That's basic.

"But who told who to do what is beyond our comprehension," he said. "We will never know exactly what happened."

Lately, the young soldier's favorite phrase keeps coming back to Cynthia Woodard. "He was famous for saying, 'It's all good,' " she said. "I also remember a tattoo of a [Native American] dreamcatcher on his back."

After Michael's death, Woodard had a tattoo of wings placed on her upper back.

With it are her son's name, the years of his birth and death, and the words It's all good.