10 Years Later, Parents of Killed Enfield Marine Speak Publicly

ENFIELD, CT — Sept. 3 marked the 10th anniversary of the passing of U.S. Marine Corps Lance Cpl. Philip A. Johnson of Enfield, who was killed by an improvised explosive device (IED) in Iraq.

This week, for the first time in a decade, his parents, Kathy and Lou Johnson, sat down together for an exclusive interview with Patch editor Tim Jensen to talk about their son’s desire to join the Marines, his service overseas, his death and the support of their hometown in the wake of his passing.

Here are some excerpts from that 90-minute conversation:

Q: When did Philip first express interest in joining the Marines?

KJ: As he was growing up, we tried all sports — baseball, basketball, football — he didn’t latch onto them. When he was around 10, we discovered the Westover Young Marines did a boot camp every Thursday for a couple of hours. By 11, he was telling us he was going to be a Marine. He got an honorable discharge from the Young Marines as a staff sergeant. He was a leader, and even helped me — I was going to California to do a presentation for work and was very nervous, so he told me to look over the audience’s heads, and they would think I was looking at them. I did it, and have been able to publicly speak ever since.

LJ: If we wanted to get him to do something, all we’d have to say, “Phil, we’re going to tell the sergeant-major,” and he would do it.

Q: When he enlisted during his senior year of high school, was there any trepidation about letting him do so?

KJ: He was going to be an adult, going to do what he wanted to do and going to have a career, so what parent can tell their son they can’t be a Marine. Our daughter Jessica was in the Army at the time, she joined shortly after 9/11 and served nine years as a staff sergeant.

Q: There is always fear instilled in any parent when their child joins the military. How was that magnified when he got word he would be deployed to Iraq?

KJ: He had leave just before going to Iraq, in July 2005. His girlfriend Katie was with us, and we got to see him off at the gate. I will never forget — he’s walking into the gate, he turned around and looked at us and gave us a big smile with those big eyes. At that point, we knew he wasn’t coming home.

LJ: We talked about it years later, and I believe self-defense mechanisms kick in. There’s no delusion — we knew our son was going to Iraq, and we found a way to accept that the danger was not as real as it was. While he was over there, I read a statistic about the casualty rate, and they weren’t good odds, but we said that’s not going to happen.

Q: Did you hear from him while he was overseas?

LJ: He called me in my home office on a satellite phone. We talked about guns and knives and motorcycles — guy stuff — and we talked about what was going on over there. He said it was getting kind of rough, so I said, “I bet you wish you were anywhere else.” I could feel his back stiffen as he said, “Dad, this is where I want to be, this is where I need to be. There’s no place else in this world I’d rather be than here.” Two days later, we lost him.

KJ: He called to talk to Jess for her birthday (Sept. 2), he said he was calling from a satellite phone in the middle of some road in the desert.

Q: Please tell us about the moment every military parent dreads — the knock on the door.

LJ: The day he was killed, a bunch of friends and Kathy were already at Pizza Palace for a celebration of Jessica’s birthday. I had just come out of the shower and was on the phone wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants doing business for one of my bands when two Marines knocked on the door. My self-defense mechanism told me they were there to collect money or something, but they asked, “Is Mrs. Johnson home?” I told them she was not, so they asked, “Is your son Philip Alexander Johnson?” I said yes, and it started to dawn on me. I invited them in to sit down, went upstairs and changed. I was thinking, “When I hear my son was killed, I’m not going to be dressed like this.” Next I had to figure out how to get Kathy home without telling her. I called the restaurant, got Kathy on the phone and told her there’s two Marines at the door.

KJ: At that point, I knew; if he was injured, it would have been a phone call, but when two Marines are standing on our front porch, we knew. I grabbed my daughter, we got into our separate cars and I drove up Route 5 faster than I ever have in my life. I burst through the house, not even really seeing the Marines, and went upstairs. We came down and they sat us on the couch.

LJ: They opened up the book and read from the script. They did not give us details of what happened right away, but over time they did. The official version is a multi-stacked mine, but in actuality it was an IED triggered by a young Iraqi teenager. Ryan Miller of Ohio was also killed in the blast. In total, 14 from Philip’s unit wound up being killed in action.

Q: Days later, his body was flown back to the United States, then to Bradley Airport on Sept. 14. What are your memories of the procession from the airport to the funeral home, through Enfield High School and past your family home?

LJ: It was an overwhelming feeling of support. I felt I was cocooned by thousands of people who I’d never met, but who loved my son and through that, loved Kathy and me. Our pain was very local until we saw all that support.

KJ: When we left for the airport, I think it was very personal. When we left the airport, every overpass had flags and supporters. We turned off the highway and turned into Enfield High School, and every sports team stopped what they were doing and ran to the fence. We turned off Pearl Street and onto our street, Frew Terrace, and it was lined with wall-to-wall people. It blew my mind. That day, everybody in the town of Enfield became our family.

LJ: When your son has been killed in a war, you have tunnel vision. When you realize he was loved and honored by so many people, you can’t help but expand that vision, and it helps make things better.

Q: At the cemetery, Kathy, I noticed you briefly hesitated before accepting the folded American flag being presented to you.

KJ: I would not take it without my husband putting his hands on it at the same time. I know it’s typically given to the mother, but I wanted us both to take it. That was a very difficult moment.

Q: How difficult is the arrival of Sept. 3 each year?

LJ: Every year on Sept. 3, Kathy and I clear our schedules of everything. This year, a block party my band and I have played for many years fell on Sept. 3, and I could only think that that is Phil’s day for Kathy and I to spend together. A lot of things flooded into my head, namely that there were probably many mornings in Iraq when Phil said he just didn’t want to move, but he laced his boots on, put his backpack on and said, “Let’s get to work.” I said yes, we can do the show, and I didn’t regret it. I regretted not being with her, but during the second set I got to do three songs dedicated in Philip’s honor. The point I learned was the world goes on, and I learn from Phil every day.

Q: What would you say is Philip’s legacy to his community and his country?

LJ: If you speak to most active combat service people, they will say it is your right to drink beer on a Friday night, your right to go to a movie on a Wednesday night, your right to go to church on Sunday morning, your right to vote for who you want regardless of how repugnant someone else may find them, and I will lay down my life to defend that right. That’s what our son was and is.

KJ: After 10 years, we think about him every day. We think about what he did. We miss him every day and I cry every couple of days. It still hurts, but we’re proud of our hero.

Photo credits: Johnson family (graduation); Tim Jensen (funeral)