MOUNT VERNON — Some of the boots on display at the Eyes of Freedom traveling memorial still carry sand from Iraq in the soles.
When stepping into the memorial, eight life-size panels surround visitors with portraits of the 23 men who never made it home.
Eyes of Freedom honors 22 Marines and one Navy Corpsman of Lima Company, 3rd Battalion, 25th Regiment. Each of these men died in service to their country while deployed in Iraq between May and August of 2005.
Beneath each portrait in the traveling memorial sits a pair of combat boots. They belonged to the men pictured, and some still carry sand from Iraq in their soles.
Now visiting Mount Vernon for the third time at the CA&C Depot, the memorial offers a space to remember the fallen and talk about grief, trauma and suicide.
The morning before Veterans Day, students from St. Vincent de Paul School visited the memorial.
Sean Flaherty, who travels full-time with the memorial, said young visitors often surprise him with their questions.
“Sometimes they don’t get enough credit, but they understand and sometimes they’ll ask the best questions that you’ll ever hear,” Flaherty said.
The boots are one of the first things children ask about.
Visitors also ask about IEDs, or improvised explosive devices, which killed many of the men honored in the memorial.
Flaherty volunteered with the memorial for several years before joining its traveling team full-time in 2012. He did not serve in the military himself, but his connection to the exhibit began with a friend.
Justin Hoffman, the first Marine painted, was a good friend of Flaherty’s.
November 9 marked Hoffman’s birthday. Those who gathered at the memorial, including Hoffman’s father, sang “Happy Birthday” in his memory.
Flaherty said the portraits often bring veterans back to people they knew, even if they never met the men pictured.
“My father, when he would come to the studio when Anita (Miller) was painting, he would see the men he served with,” Flaherty said. “No matter where we go in this country, this exhibit has the ability to kind of equalize people.
“When you’re standing in front of those portraits and you’re around the sculpture, everybody’s the same.”
A vision becomes a memorial
Artist Anita Miller began creating the memorial in 2005 after seeing the faces of the fallen soldiers in a newspaper.
“My heart cried like everybody else’s did,” Miller said. “But I wanted to help.”
Two months later, Miller said she experienced what she describes as a vision. She saw eight panels arranged in an octagon, each featuring life-size portraits and personal details about the men. Boots, a lit candle, and lists of names completed the display.
She also saw the memorial inside the Ohio Statehouse Rotunda.
A second vision showed a team carefully dismantling the exhibit and transporting it somewhere else.
Despite the experience, Miller initially resisted the idea.
“I said, ‘No way. There’s no way I can do this,'” she said.
Miller was a painter, but she had no connections at the Statehouse, no resources and no space to create the exhibit.
Still, the feeling that she was supposed to make it never went away.
“After a few months of saying no, I said ‘OK, I’ll try it,'” she said.
The memorial debuted at the Ohio Statehouse, where it remained for six months. Since then, it has traveled to 36 states and more than 420 events.
Remembering Brian Zimmerman
Years after creating the original memorial, Miller began hearing something unexpected from visitors.
People were talking about friends who had died by suicide. Others were sharing their own struggles and suicidal thoughts.
About a decade ago, Flaherty told Miller the exhibit needed something to address that pain.
Miller did no have personal experience with military service or the struggles veterans described, but she was willing to listen.
While the memorial was on display in northern Minnesota, she met Brian Zimmerman, a veteran who shared his experiences.
Zimmerman helped Miller understand what the next piece needed to communicate. He also posed for the sculpture that became Silent Battle.
While Miller initially imagined a figure reaching toward the light, leaving combat gear behind, Zimmerman challenged that approach.
“He said, ‘You can’t just go from the kind of depths of the pain and the dark hole that we’re in, to just reaching to the light,'” Miller said.
Instead, Zimmerman got into the pose that is now eternalized by the statue.
Silent Battle is a life-size bronze statue of a “grieving warrior cradling the dog tag of his friend,” according to the website.
“When other people see that sculpture, you’re not going to need to say a word,” Miller said, recalling his explanation. “They will see it, and they will understand because they will see a mirror of themselves.
“Once they know they’re not alone, then the dialogue can start.”
She sees the sculpture as a bridge through what she calls the silent chasm of pain.
“Once that conversation is open, that’s when things start getting better,” Miller said.
Visitors can place their hands on the sculpture’s back, leaving thoughts behind or taking a moment to connect with it. Miller said she hopes people will approach it with love, allowing others to find comfort through the same gesture.
Zimmerman lost his own silent battle on Aug. 4, 2021, but his legacy remains through memory, conversation and the statue he posed for all those years ago.
More than an art exhibit
“It’s a space for healing,” Miller said. “It’s a space for people to connect to each other, to themselves, to the deepest part of themselves, to the divine, to whatever they need to connect to.”
Seeing visitors interact with the work makes the years of effort worthwhile, she said.
“It gives me great satisfaction to know it’s a tool that’s being used, and being utilized, and it’s not sitting in a closet,” Miller said. “It’s actually out there working.”
Flaherty hopes visitors leave with a better understanding of military service and the sacrifices made by service members and their families.
“They can go up (to veterans) and say, ‘Thank you for your service,'” Flaherty said. “And when they do that, they might not see the reaction they’re hoping for from that veteran, but I can guarantee you it makes their day.”
Miller’s request for visitors is simple.
“Take the time, bring their open heart, spend time looking into the eyes and the faces of the guys, and put their hands on Silent Battle, to charge it with love,” she said. “So that others that need love can come put their hands on it and receive.”
(Here are Alexandra Hopkins’ photos of the memorial).
