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No doubt, the female B2 bomber fighter pilot who participated in Operation Midnight Hammer was selected based on her qualifications. No doubt, she's a badass, too! 🇺🇸 🫡 🛫 🎖 🦅 ❤️🤍💙 💃

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She was 23 years old. A mother of two young children. And on March 23, 2003, she became the first Native American woman in U.S. history to die in combat — though most Americans have never heard her name. Her name was Lori Piestewa. A member of the Hopi Tribe from Arizona, Lori served with the U.S. Army's 507th Maintenance Company. In the early days of the Iraq War, her convoy was moving through southern Iraq when it became separated from the main force and entered the city of Nasiriyah. What happened next was chaos. Enemy fire came from multiple directions. Rocket-propelled grenades exploded around the vehicles. Soldiers fought just to survive. Lori was behind the wheel of a Humvee, carrying several fellow soldiers — including her close friend, Jessica Lynch. Their vehicle took a direct hit. Lori was critically injured in the attack. Despite efforts to save her, she died of her wounds in the days that followed — becoming not only the first Native American servicewoman to die in combat, but the first American servicewoman killed in the Iraq War. Most people know the name Jessica Lynch. Her rescue made international headlines. Far fewer know the name of the friend who was driving — the one who never came home. Back in Arizona, a family lost a daughter, a sister, a mother. Two children grew up without theirs. But across Native American communities and beyond, Lori's story became something larger — a symbol of quiet courage, of duty carried out without hesitation, of sacrifice that asked for nothing in return. Today, a mountain overlooking Phoenix bears her name. Piestewa Peak stands as a permanent reminder — not just of how she died, but of who she was before that day: a soldier, a friend, a mother who answered the call. Some names make headlines. Others simply hold up the people who do — quietly, faithfully, until the very end. Lori Piestewa was one of the latter. And she deserves to be remembered too🫡🇺🇸 🇺🇸Never Forget🇺🇸♥️🤍💙🇺🇸 🇺🇸🙏🏻✝️Rest In Peace Lori ✝️🙏🏻

Armand Klein

13,769 görüntüleme • 2 ay önce

She was 19, riding in a convoy through Iraq, when one hidden explosion ended her life instantly forever. Carrie French was only 19 years old when she stepped into a war that demanded more than most people ever experience in a lifetime. She served with the 145th Support Battalion of the Idaho National Guard during Operation Iraqi Freedom, deployed to Kirkuk, Iraq, where every mission carried unseen danger. Her role was part of a support convoy—missions that often appeared routine but were never truly safe. In Iraq, even the simplest movement on the road required discipline, trust, and constant awareness. Threats were not always visible. Sometimes they were buried beneath the ground, waiting silently. On June 5, 2005, her convoy moved forward like so many before it. The day carried no warning, no sign of what was about to happen. Then, in an instant, an improvised explosive device detonated beneath or near the convoy. The explosion was sudden and overwhelming, leaving no time for reaction. Carrie French was killed in the line of duty. She was 19 years old—old enough to serve her country, old enough to wear the uniform, yet far too young to have her life end in a single moment of violence. After her death, she was posthumously promoted to corporal, a recognition of her service and commitment. Today, her name remains one among many in a war defined by unseen danger and sudden loss. Most people will never know her story, but for those who understand the cost of service, Carrie French represents a generation of young soldiers who stepped forward willingly—and never returned home.

Frankie™️🦅

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