FORT BENNING, Ga (Army News Service, May 4, 2004) -- In April 1989, two of my Soldiers were killed when they hit an oncoming vehicle. They’d both been drinking and neither was wearing a seatbelt.

They’d been on their way to pick up a fellow Soldier and bring him back to a party. However, they never returned and what happened changed my life forever. I was their platoon sergeant.

We had just finished several support missions, redeployed to home station, and were transitioning to be the division readiness force for the 82nd Airborne Division. It was a Thursday, and we had completed all our inspections and were getting ready for a three-day weekend. The commander gave us our safety briefing.

Afterward, I briefed my platoon on the two-hour recall procedures and gave them an additional safety brief. I covered drinking and driving, speeding, and wearing seatbelts. Also, because we were on DRF 1, I told them not to drink any alcohol.

I was concerned about a couple of my Soldiers. A day or so earlier, their wives called me out of concern about their husbands’ drinking and driving and lack of time at home. I decided to have a man-to-man talk with these Soldiers about their wives’ concerns. I set it up so I could talk to each individually at my home.

The Soldiers were 19 and 20 years old -- at the prime of their lives -- and had so much ahead of them. One was going to be a father in three weeks.

We had a recall formation to test the alert roster the following Monday morning. As the squad leaders gave me their accountability reports, they reported two Soldiers missing. The Soldiers’ wives were there, but the Soldiers weren’t.

I went to the first sergeant’s office to inform him of the report but he was with the commander, who asked me to come into his office. He told me the division staff duty officer had informed him that two Soldiers were killed in an accident involving another Soldier’s car. The vehicle’s owner told me that my Soldiers had borrowed the vehicle.

The victims’ bodies were burned beyond recognition. The coroner needed to check their dental records for proper identification. I was 99 percent sure they were my two missing Soldiers.

I asked the commander what we were going to do because the wives were at the staff duty officer’s desk wanting to know where their husbands were. As time went by the wives became increasingly upset. They had not been told the full situation yet, but in time, the dreadful call came.

I often wonder how you tell a Soldier the worth of his life, the importance of his family and the happiness a newborn child will bring. I thought I had gotten through to these Soldiers, yet they died -- not in combat, something that might be justified -- but in an avoidable accident.

To this day I still ask myself, “What does it take?”

(Editor’s note: Matthew P. Kettell is currently the tactical safety officer for 2nd Brigade, 82nd Airborne Division.)