‘Every day is Memorial Day’ for Vancouver Gold Star familyFree

As Janie Peto heard her son’s laughter through the screen, tears welled in her eyes and her hand searched for the dog tag that hung around her neck.

U.S. Marine Corps Sgt. Jason Peto’s natural charisma shone clearly in the videos — recorded from nondescript desert locations, a military base or an aircraft. Anywhere he was, his bright spirit followed, his father, Ernest Peto, said.

“He had a giggle that, even today, everybody remembers,” he added. “These guys are going into combat, and they’re all worried about (whether) they’re going to come back. He’s got them all laughing. I mean, that was Jason all the time — he just had this personality.”

However, Jason Peto was one of those who didn’t get to return home.

On Nov. 24, 2010, Peto led his squad to the scene of an explosion to help evacuate a Marine who’d been caught in the blast, only to be mortally wounded when a second, hidden bomb detonated. He died on Dec. 7, 2010, at the National Naval Medical Center in Bethesda, Md., and was buried in 2010 with full military honors at Riverside National Cemetery in sunny Southern California, away from the rain he detested so much, Janie Peto said.

Among the red, white and blue décor and family photos, Jason Peto’s wide smile makes many appearances in portraits, selfies and even a cereal box. A memorial sign for Jason Peto is always stationed outside at the end of the driveway, which frequently has flowers or handwritten notes from neighbors and strangers at its base.

Becoming a Dark Horse

Jason Peto, was born on Jan. 28, 1979, in Montebello, Calif., and moved to Washington when he was about 10. Even when Jason Peto was a kid, he wanted to enlist in the military, Janie Peto said; he joined the Marines in 2004.

The Marine came from a legacy of men who served in the military, even going back to the Civil War. Within his immediate family, Jason Peto’s father and two of his brothers, Darin and Michael, were in the Marines. His uncle, Gary Wesselman, died during his service in Vietnam.

During Jason Peto’s early military career, he had two deployments in Iraq. In his first operation, he was wounded from a roadside bomb blast in Ramadi, earning him a Purple Heart award. After these assignments, Jason Peto became a division school instructor at Camp Pendleton, Calif. He sought more expertise, which led him to both Quantico, Va., and Fort Huachuca, Ariz., for further weapons training.

When Jason Peto returned to Camp Pendleton, he volunteered for his third — and final — tour in 2010, which sent him to Sangin, in Afghanistan’s Helmand Province. His mother said his friends urged him to join and they would continue to “watch each other’s backs.”

It wasn’t unlike Jason Peto to go beyond his rank’s expected duties, as he commonly volunteered to go on extra missions.

“He thought, ‘If I’m out there, I can save somebody,’” Darin Peto said.

He was assigned to the 3rd Battalion, 5th Marine Regiment, 1st Marine Division, I Marine Expeditionary Force, which is commonly referred to as the “Dark Horse” unit. It sustained the highest casualty rate of any Marine unit during the war in Afghanistan. The battalion experienced 25 fatalities, and nearly 200 Marines were wounded.

“He went, (and) it was really hard on (his friends) because Jason didn’t come home and they did,” Janie Peto said. “That was really devastating to us.”

Dark Horse Marines who returned, some without limbs, relayed some of the dangerous situations they faced while in Sangin. Battalion members depended on one another’s footprints left in the dry soil to avoid triggering a bomb, Darin Peto said. They experienced a heightened state of anxiety, leading them to spend many nights without sleep, he added.

Roy Prior, one of Jason Peto’s buddies and a fellow Marine, said he was stationed in Afghanistan before his friend was eventually deployed there. It was too dangerous to consider going back for another mission.

“There were too many close calls,” he said.

Sgt. Jason Peto was 31 years old when he died.

Living through memories

At times, Jason Peto’s family found themselves wondering what could have happened if he hadn’t volunteered but quickly stopped because the “what ifs” hurt the most.

Jason Peto’s brothers, Garry, Darin and Michael, now fondly reminisce about stories with their brother, which are effortless to conjure up in their mind or see in their childhood home.

They recalled memories of zip lining through the backyard in the Livingston area, building walkways across streams, or being chased by their father hauling a bucket of manure. The brothers would fish, sled on cardboard boxes, hike or dingdong ditch the neighbors.

Their strong bond couldn’t be diminished, even after Jason’s death.

“I think that’s the big part: the impact that he had on everyone’s life,” Garry Peto said.

This feeling of brotherhood also extended past Jason’s blood relations and encompassed those with whom he served, including many who continue to visit his grave. A brown patch of grass near the marker reveals the long history of friends who saturated the ground with hard liquor and beer, pouring out drinks for their fallen friend. The soil probably contains enough Johnnie Walker to easily set flame if there was a spark nearby, Darin Peto said through laughter.

Every year, someone visiting the grave will send his family a kind message paired with a photo of the tombstone adorned with flowers, coins, beer cans or shot glasses, Janie Peto said. His parents can’t be there all the time, so the pictures help.