One Name Among Thirteen by Jeremiah Senne

When most people think about the bombing at Abbey Gate, they probably think about the number.

Thirteen.

Thirteen American service members were killed during the evacuation from Afghanistan on August 26, 2021. It’s the number that appears in news articles and history books. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that numbers make it easy to forget that each of those thirteen people had a life before that day. 

One of them was Darin Taylor Hoover, a United States Marine. Before I learned his name, he was just one of the thirteen to me. Just another person in a headline. But once I started thinking about who he actually was, the story felt different. 

I think that’s something that happens a lot with history.

We learn dates. We learn events. We memorize numbers. But we don’t always stop to think about the people behind those facts.

Darin Taylor Hoover wasn’t born to become part of a statistic. He was somebody’s son. Somebody’s friend. Somebody who probably had plans for the future. He had people waiting for him at home. He had a life outside of the Marine Corps. 

That’s what stayed with me when I learned about Abbey Gate.

Not the politics.

Not the arguments about the war.

The people.

I started thinking about what it means to serve. Most of the time when we talk about military service, we talk about bravery. That’s important, but I think service means something bigger than that. Service means being willing to put yourself in difficult situations because other people need your help.

The Marines, soldiers, sailors, and airmen at the airport were there to help evacuate thousands of people who were trying to escape Afghanistan. It was dangerous, and they knew that. They still showed up every day and kept doing their jobs. 

The bombing at Abbey Gate killed thirteen American service members and many Afghan civilians. Those lives cannot be reduced to a number, even though history often tries to do exactly that. 

When I think about Darin Taylor Hoover, I don’t want to think of him as one of thirteen.

I want to think of him as a person.

I think that’s the least we owe people who choose to serve. We should remember their names and remember that behind every headline is a human being with a story.

Years from now, most people probably won’t remember the exact details of what happened at Abbey Gate. I know I won’t remember every fact. But I hope I remember this: every name on that list mattered.

Not because they died.

Because they lived.