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A woman on a mission

Defense cuts cost Laura Herzog her job, but her work with grieving military families was too important to stop.

February 01, 2012|By Nicole Santa Cruz, Los Angeles Times
  • Mary Hargrove, left, gets support from Laura Herzog, founder of Honoring Our Fallen, as she joins relatives and Marine war buddies watching the release of balloons inscribed in memory of her son, Lance Cpl. Justin Swanson, 21, of Anaheim, during a second anniversary memorial at Westminster Memorial Park.
Mary Hargrove, left, gets support from Laura Herzog, founder of Honoring… (Allen J. Schaben, Los Angeles…)

Laura Herzog's life changed on Tuesday, Nov. 10, 2009. That was the day a 21-year-old Marine from Camp Pendleton was killed in Afghanistan's Helmand province when an improvised bomb exploded underneath his Humvee.

Herzog was at her desk at the Joint Forces Training Base in Los Alamitos the next day when she learned she would be assisting the family when the body was returned to California.

In the military, the process is called the dignified transfer of remains. Herzog calls it a hero mission. Seeing death so closely makes it a grueling task. It was the first time Herzog, a public affairs officer, would take charge of such a case.

AUDIO SLIDE SHOW: 'I had to do something'

"I remember thinking, 'Oh, my God, what am I supposed to do?'" she said. "But I also remember thinking, 'No problem. I'll do what I have to do.'"

In time, even after losing her job amid Defense cutbacks, there would be more names, more families. Herzog didn't know it then, but helping grieving relatives would become her life's work.

But on that day, it was all about Lance Cpl. Justin Swanson. He was coming home.

JUSTIN J. SWANSON | 1988 - 2009


Herzog drove to Swanson's family home in Anaheim. A single red rose shivered in her hands as she knocked.

"I remember feeling like my heart was going to explode out of my chest," she said.

Swanson's mother, Mary Hargrove, who had already been notified of her son's death, opened the door. Her eyes, full of gravity, quickly filled with tears.

Herzog helped her inside and listened. How the oldest of her four children would "never let you down," was the mentor to kids in the neighborhood, always had an easy smile. How his tour of duty was nearly up. How he would have been home for Christmas.

Hargrove pulled out a baby photo.

"All I could do was hug her," said Herzog, a mother of four herself.

Then, she got to work.

Swanson came home to an honor procession that stretched for miles. Hundreds of people lined the streets, many stepping out of their businesses to pay tribute. Preschool children stood with hands over their hearts as the hearse passed.

"It was the most incredible thing and the most devastating day of my life," Hargrove recalled. "There wasn't a doubt in anybody's mind that day that my son was a hero."

Herzog's job wasn't done, though. Days before that Christmas, a rainstorm blew into the Southland. She was running a fever and coughing. Yet all she could think of was that Swanson's family needed a Christmas tree. So she strapped one onto her SUV, bought red and gold ornaments, and drove to the house.

"She made sure that my kids had a Christmas," Hargrove said.

Herzog then connected Hargrove with support groups such as the Gold Star Mothers, a national organization of mothers who've lost a child on active duty.

"Because I was devastated, she hooked me up with people who were going through the same thing," said Hargrove, sitting in a room that honors her son. The walls are decorated with photos of him playing football at Buena Park High School, and his military boots and Marine helmet sit by the fireplace.

"You see, I have to find the good that came from my son's death," Hargrove said. "There has to be something more. I can honestly say if there's one thing that came out of it, it's that my kids have been able to see the kind side of people, starting with Laura."


Retired Maj. Gen. John Harrel, Herzog's commander at the base, said she used her community connections to make her first case special. Before Herzog, the missions were "spartan" and "haphazard," Harrel said.

Herzog, 39, likes to credit what she affectionately calls "the puzzle palace" — her brain. She has a gift for remembering details and can tick off names of soldiers' relatives, their ranks and special dates in their lives. But those who know her credit something else.

"Laura's just one of those workaholic-type persons," said a former colleague, Staff Sgt. Bach Zavala. "You really don't see how hard she is working behind the scenes."

Still, her position was trimmed as part of the military's ongoing cutbacks. Her last official mission came on Jan. 25, 2011. Another 21-year-old, Army Spc. Jose Torre of Garden Grove, was killed in Iraq when insurgents attacked his unit with a rocket-propelled grenade.

Days later, Herzog stood at Riverside National Cemetery with Torre's family. It was then she realized that this could not be the end of her work with families.

She returned to her base office to pack, and wept. A month later, she launched the nonprofit Honoring Our Fallen to aid families of deceased service members.

"These families are serving too," Herzog said. "We need to be there for them."

The work is consuming. Hours blend into days, weeks into months. Connections can be lifelines.

"She never seems to have an off day," said Harrel, who serves as military advisor for the nonprofit. "She has a hundred irons in the fire at one time."

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