Tributes

Daniel left home in Eagan MN, to start basic training with the US Marines in

San Diego on September 11, 2005.  He deployed to Iraq in Jan 2007, patrolled the streets and communities of Saqlawiyah for 7 weeks, during which he had no contact with home. When he returned to the Marine FOB (Forward Operating Base) the family breathed a sigh of relief. A few days later he was KIA April 2, 2007, in Saqlawiyah Iraq, by a sniper.

The following tributes are from those that served with Daniel and provided by his family.

David Jordan

David Jordan was a squad leader of a different Fox 2/7 squad, and this was his second deployment to Iraq.

David Jordan Story
02APR07-Midday
Al Anbar Province, Iraq

There I was in country for the second time. Making some of the greatest memories of my life while leading my Marines in completing our mission. It is the most treasured time of my life; serving and fighting along side the best men America had to offer.

All was going well until the 2nd of April. It was that day that our world, as we knew it, would be changed forever. It was that day that marked the beginning of the Month From Hell.

We called our Forward Operating Base (FOB) “Riviera,” the name given to the place by some company before us. It was established in what was a former hotel, probably quite a ritzy one at some point before this war. Now, it was a four-story shell of a building. You walked into the grand entrance, looked up, and could see the wrap around balconies for all four floors. The roof overhead had 24/7 guard duty posted to help ensure safety as the 12 squads of four of Fox Company’s five platoons rotated between guard duty, patrol shifts, hard sites, and “dwell ops” where they would live with an Iraqi family for several days at a time, (the fifth platoon always remained at the FOB and was responsible for cooking, vehicle maintenance, etc. – somewhat affectionately nicknamed “fobbits”).

My squad of 14 (that included me) “2nd Squad” was scheduled to relieve 3rd Squad over at one of the two aforementioned hard sites, Checkpoint 286. Just before we began to gear up in our third-floor room, an insane amount of frantic, intelligible screaming and commotion was heard on the ground floor. My 12 Marines and Navy Corpsman followed my lead as I dropped my flak jacket, Kevlar helmet, and daypack; left my rifle; and rushed to the balcony to see what was happening. The report hollered up to us, from the Sergeant of the Guards’ desk at the entrance, revealed that someone had been hit. It was unclear who it was and how bad his injuries were. To avoid any added chaos on the ground floor, all marines were relegated to the stairwell, while each squad’s corpsman, per SOP guidelines, rushed to the makeshift operating room located in our dining room (which also served as our meeting room, chapel, and TV/entertainment room).

The next 10 minutes seemed like at least an hour, if not two or three hours, as we waited for confirmation of name and injury status. I cannot recollect if anything was yelled up to us as our chain of command sprinted back and forth from the operating room to the Command Operations Center (COC); and various corpsmen sprinted for dear life between the operating room and the Battalion Aid Station for more, and more, and more supplies. For the life of me, I cannot remember who told us; but I’ll never forget the earth-shattering disbelief and full-body shock felt by all of us on the stairwell when the name of the marine on the operating table was FINALLY relayed up, “Lance Corporal Olsen is KIA.”

We did not want to believe it. My heart sank to an all time low. I was paralyzed there on the stairwell, not able to move. At first, we refused to accept it. Before our emotions went haywire and we could begin the steps of grieving, our commander reeled us in and refocused us on our mission, “Don’t worry guys, we’ll get the sonuva bitch. Gear up, Jordan. Go secure ‘Go Army Bridge.’ Don’t let any body in or out [of the city].”

It took less than a week before we ensured the sniper who took Olsen from us could do no more harm. At that point, “Go Army Bridge” was re-opened for the locals to utilize, and the citywide quarantine was lifted.

It took me 10 years (2017) to be able to put into writing what happened that day. It is just as painful now, as it was then. Not a day in my life passes that I do not miss your smile and your personality, Olsen. You were a one of a kind friend whom I cherish beyond words. I love you, my brother.

I cannot wait for the day, when I can explain to my son, what the meaning is behind his middle name and how much it means to me. You are forever a part of my family. We will continue to honor your memory forever.

RIP LCpl Olsen. Never, ever forgotten. Until we meet again brother, Semper Fidelis!!!

2/7 War Dogs!!!
Ready for all, yielding to none!

Lauren Jordan

For the last few years, Chris has joined in on David’s, Audrey’s, and my nine-year tradition of pouring out a Miller High Life in honor of our beloved friend and brother who made the ultimate sacrifice 10 years ago today.

I wrote the following memory last year. On this 10th anniversary, my emotions are a little rawer; try as I may, I couldn’t come close to writing anything as evocative:

02APR07

Caller: Did you hear? Did you hear what happened?!?!?
Me: Huh?
Caller: Olsen’s been killed.

The disbelief overwhelmed me. The gal who called was a 17 year old wife of a marine in David’s company. One with whom I had bonded. One whose 3.5-month old baby girl had JUST finished spending two weeks In my care, because mommy was in Bethesda with 19 year old daddy who, after numerous surgeries, was barely able to keep his arm after sustaining horrific damage courtesy of a sniper shot.

The questions flooded my mind:
Are you sure?… How’d you find out?!… Do his parents know yet ~ so i can call my family to let them know, or should I really not know yet? Are you really sure? Was anyone else killed too? Am 1 going to be getting a visit tonight? Oh, God, his parents and his sisters! Are you sure?

I don’t remember exactly what I said, but I know I was in too much shock to ask all the questions I was thinking.

After I made a call to confirm it was truly OUR Olsen, the memories overwhelmed me:

No… It couldn’t be. Our Olsen?! The one who made sand angels with my sister
just last summer? Who spent last Thanksgiving at our table wearing his crazy red contact lenses he colored himself? The same Olsen who only drank Miller High Life (I’m pretty sure because he KNEW no one else at our parties would ever touch the stuff)? The one who had memorized, after a single glance, the serial number of each Marine’s rifle in his fire team? The one no one would tell their SS# to because they knew he could remember it without meaning to? The one who was incredibly quiet but whose smile was a must-have at every single gathering in our home? The one who, despite the Grunts’ rough and rowdy lifestyle, never lost his gentle manner? The same Olsen who was loved by every single person who knew him? It cannot be him. It just can’t.

And yet, it was.

It has been TEN years since that sniper got his lucky shot. It has been TEN years since the permanent hole was made in our hearts and lives. It has been TEN years since the doors to an incredibly cherished relationship with the Olsen family were opened. It has been TEN years since we decided to name our [then future] son after LCpl. Daniel R. Olsen. Yet, it seems like just last week that we were all together in our 29 Palms home making memories we never realized would be our treasured last.

RIP, LCpl. Daniel R. Olsen. Gone, but NEVER forgotten.

Dirk Ellena

Hi Gwen!

It’s great to hear from you. I peak in on your facebook page every now and again, it seems like you are always up to something productive. I wish I had half of your energy! If I had to choose the second best Mom in the world it would be you, HANDS DOWN (I have to reserve the number one seat for my
mama).

I know Marines that are in don’t want to hear this, but now that I’ve been out for a while I realize more how amazing this is, but Daniel was the sweetest Infantry Saw-Gunner I ever met. They usually pull the guys that are tougher and have a little more heart than the rest to carry the Saw. This is a difficult task in a group of young men that joined the Marine Infantry in a time o f war, Daniel was in a group with Tim, Menting, Nunez, some other all-heart badasses. But Daniel stood out, to me, because he was all-heart but he was always kind.

He hurt his shoulder during training, and once a shoulder is injured i t s hard to heal without complete rest As Doc, I got a lot of guys trying to get out of training for the smallest of reasons, everything down to a slight tickle in the throat. I saw Daniel but there in the evening one time, we’d been training all day, it was dusk in the desert, we’d do this training where you jump up run forward for about 5 seconds while firing, then drop in full gear for hours. I saw Daniel running, these maneuvers with his Saw, two extra barrels, and a couple of drums, he had a bum shoulder and a hurt ankle, but he was jumping up with a hundred plus pounds of gear and running the plays with the rest of us. He wasn’t complaining, all. heart, but I could see he was wincing so bad his eyes were welling up with tears, not crying, just that kind of pain where you can’t control your bodies response, I just see pure determination in his eyes, like ‘I’m not giving up, no matter what’ I couldn’t get him to take a break> it was cause, he felt like if the rest of us are training, he’s training. I forced him to at least trade weapons with me for a while, mine was about half the weight, this I told him he didn’t have a choice, begrudgingly, he gave me his weapon. I felt a lot of respect for that man.

Smart as hell, he kind of stuck out from the rest of them. Some of the guys came up to me, with Daniel, they were shouting, ‘Do Doc’s, do Doc’s!!!’ I was like, what? I thought they were going t o try and jump me, as Marines are playfully known to do. They said ‘what’s his sosh’ He said, I don’t know he hasn’t ever told me it I didn’t believe them at first but if you told him your social security number, he repeat it one or two times under his breath and it’d be in his memory…permanently. I’ve never seen anything like it I could point out anyone in a platoon of 35 and some others and if he’d heard their social once he could immediately recall it He could do this with serial numbers of weapons and other equipment, and those things have 10 plus digits letters and numbers! This has always stuck out to me as amazing.

But like I said earlier, as much heart as this young man had, and as ridiculous as his intelligence and memory was, the thing that, will always stick out to me about Daniel was his kindness, I consider myself a nice guy, sensitive, and 1 knew plenty of other sweet Marines, but eventually, with the training and the job, you find a mean streak. You kind of need to at some point, I mean, we’re learning to fire weapons for a reason. A lot of the sweet guys, get mean, they just can’t take this type of cognitive dissonance. But not Daniel, He stayed kind, always. When we were in Iraq, I felt some real demons inside of me take hold, some real angry or scared things, I remember Daniels laugh in a lot of these situations, The guy was always smiling with those rosy cheeks. Always laughing, never lost that kindness, never lost sight of what was Important, never lost sight of who he was. A Marine Infantry Saw Gunner with one of the biggest, kindest hearts I ever had the pleasure to meet.

Eden Prairie News

‘The sweetest infantry saw-gunner I ever met’ by Alex Hall on May 18, 2011

Donnie Hasseltine

A letter from Donnie Hasseltine, Daniel’s Commanding Officer, in late 2007:

Gwen,

Our company was assigned the town of Saqlawiyah, an area in the Euphrates river valley just northwest of Fallujah, and between Fallujah and Ramadi. There was one Iraqi Police Station in the center of town that was responsible for the area.

When we arrived, the police force suffered from a very significant murder and intimidation campaign from local insurgents and al Qaida representatives, and their numbers had dwindled to around 15 men on the official rolls, with only about 7-8 at work at any given time. Due to the extreme danger in and around the town, the Marines could not even patrol during daylight without remaining in their vehicles due to the sniper and small arms threat Within a month of our arrival, two Marines were shot and killed between our firm base and the police station, a distance of only 500m or so. This is not to say the Marines before us did not perform well there—they did. In fact, were it not for their significant work. Fox Company would not have been nearly as successful as we were. We were lucky that the Marines we replaced were hard workers, competently led, and did significant damage to the local insurgent infrastructure prior to our arrival. The outgoing company commander was very frank as to the problems and successes they faced during their tour, which allowed us to calculate a detailed plan to continue the fight where they left off.

The first few months were tentative and with small, but important gains. The turning point was the month of April, when the company sustained three massive truck-bomb attacks, and your son fell defending the police station. Daniel’s death, followed by the indiscriminate insurgent attacks on the local civilians forced a choice. They chose the side of the Marines and the Iraqi Police and galvanized their support against the insurgents. Despite these horrific attacks, the local police stood their ground, and despite a damaged police station, and damaged vehicles, they went out on patrol and worked to help their fellow citizens. When events like this had occurred in the past, we faced desertions and a refusal to stand their posts. This time they lived up to their full potential, earned the respect of their fellow citizens and through their actions vowed to fully defeat the enemy. In May and June, significant headway was made in the re-establishment of the city council, additional Iraqis volunteered and were trained as policemen, and a series of important negotiations and engagement with the local populace took place, cementing our hard-fought gains and building the city’s security and economy toward self-sufficiency. We were lucky on our departure, to be replaced by another company of extremely well-trained, well-led, and professional Marines who quickly grasped the situation and unhesitatingly drove to capitalize on our successes.

The week we left Iraq, the Saqlawiyah Police Force had grown to over 70 men, of which there were 50 or more regularly on duty. There were five permanent police checkpoints manned in the area. Further, an armed neighborhood watch was formed, and nearly 250 local men joined their ranks to work with the Americans and help provide security for their families and homes. The city council returned to work and began meeting in public with the Marines. Speaking to the company who replaced us and recently returned from their deployment, Saqlawiyah continued to develop and thrive in the time since we left.

I hope this helps. If you have more questions, or would like me to provide more specific info in any area, please let me know.

Semper Fidelis,
Donnie Hasseltine

Donnie Hasseltine – Easter Letter

Reposting from a few years ago. I cannot think of the month of April without thinking of the sacrifices of Daniel Olsen, Shaun Blue, and the injuries of many like Doc Thompson. April 2007 was another chapter of valor in the history of Fox 2/7, like those that fought through November and December of 1950 at Fox Hill. This month, pick up the phone or go and visit one of your fellow Marines and Sailors, raise a toast to your comrades, and tell our story to someone who does not know it.

When Easter falls in April, very different thoughts now come to my mind to illuminate the seasonal themes of death and rebirth. In April 2007, the men of Fox 2/7 were engaged in a fight for their lives in a small town called Saqlawiyah, just up the Euphrates from Fallujah. Though different than the fights of their predecessors at Fox Hill in Korea and their fellow Marines that fought through Fallujah in 2004, it was no less dangerous and required heavy portions of daily courage, measured restraint, and incredible applications of creative intellect. On the 20th of that April, the enemy sent the third of three massive truck bombs into our positions. But this was the last time they would attack us in such a fashion, and as the month closed, the people resolved to push them out alongside the Marines. On the 1st of April, one could not walk down the town’s main street in daylight due to the threat. Soon after the end of that month, you didn’t need body armor. When we departed, the town was painting streets and planting flowers along the market place.

No matter what has happened since, nothing can diminish what was accomplished. We showed a suffering town what freedom and sacrifice looked like, and still remember the men who brought it to them. Men like Daniel Olsen gave the ultimate sacrifice, while others like Anthony Thompson still fight toward recovery. Many others struggle with a range of emotions that their service brought them, and I hope that when they doubt their ability to continue that fight, they reach out to one or more of their brothers. It is a road that we all will walk for the rest of our lives–and you are not alone.

Only a handful of times in my life have I seen a person operate at 100% of their full potential. But during those seven months, that company of Marines gave every ounce they had on every day of that deployment. Happy Easter and Semper Fidelis to the Marines, Sailors, and families of Fox 2/7.

Douglas Ferreira

03 April, 2007
Dear Wayne and Gwen Olsen,

I had the pleasure of serving with your son, Daniel, as his platoon commander. I remember my first conversation with him well. He informed me of his photographic memory and asked for my social security number. I reluctantly told him, once, and several hours later before going home for the day, he repeated it back to me. He then asked for my credit card number.
Daniel was a strong example of a silent professional. As a Marine, he was reserved, modest and efficient. He always exceeded expectations and took pride in everything he accomplished. He was an example to the other Marines of Third Platoon.

Off duty, Daniel was well-liked and respected by everyone. Frequently, while visiting the barracks on weekends, he could be found in his room playing World of Warcraft against his friends; he usually won. If not in the barracks, he would take weekend road trips with friends, always managing to stay out of trouble.

Both on and off duty, Daniel was a man of high moral character. Men of high caliber, such as your son, are not often found. I am a better man for having known him, and feel as though I lost a close friend. Please accept my deepest sympathy for the loss of your son. Daniel will be remembered well.

Sincerely,
Douglas Ferreira
2nd Lt, USMC