When her brother received the news he was to be deployed to Iraq during Operation Iraqi Freedom in 2004, Courtney didn’t know her passions and life would take the turn it did.
Military service was nothing new to her family – her great grandfathers served in WWI and WWII and her great uncles both fought in Vietnam.
Before leaving for service, Courtney and her brother watched “Band of Brothers,” a 10-part drama miniseries which dramatizes the history of the E Company, 2nd Battalion of the 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment of the 101st Airborne Division, also referred to as the “Easy Company.” While the world saw an epic of modern warfare, Courtney saw something else: a study of camaraderie. She became fascinated by the bonds of men who had each other’s backs when the world was falling apart.
Today, Courtney serves her community as a Registered Medical Laboratory Technician. While her days are spent in the precise environment of the lab, the lessons she gathered from those old stories of brotherhood have become the backbone of her professional philosophy. For Courtney, the grit and self-sacrifice of the 1940s aren’t just historical footnotes; they’re a daily requirement in healthcare.
Beyond the pedestal
At age 18, her grandpa sent her on a battlefield tour in Europe. It was on that trip when she met Forrest Guth, an original member of the Easy Company. Guth took her under his wing, transforming history from a textbook subject into a living, breathing reality.
“I have a strong belief that no one is really gone if you remember their stories,” she says. “The more I read, the more I learned that really they’re just like you and me. They’re human beings. They did amazing things, but they also made mistakes at the same time. You have to remember the good and the bad when remembering history.”
This commitment to the whole picture includes a humble take on the American role in the war. She often explains to others that while the U.S. effort was monumental, it was an Allied win. “It’s the equivalent of a team marathon where the last guy gets the baton, crosses the line, and says, ‘I’m the winner!’” she says. To Courtney, honoring history also means honoring the British, the Canadians, and the French resistance workers who laid the groundwork long before the final mile.
The frontlines of healthcare
Today, Courtney translates the lessons of the 1940s into her healthcare career. She sees a parallel between the paratroopers’ self-sacrifice and the toll taken on medical workers.
“Working in healthcare, you give up a part of yourself mentally and physically to be the best for your patients,” she says. She recalls the 18-hour days and the isolation from family during the COVID-19 crisis as a modern echo of the “Greatest Generation’s” sacrifices.
“It’s not like going to war, but if I had to think of a word, it would be sacrificing for someone else.”
When she stepped into leadership roles, she looked to Major Dick Winters, the Easy Company’s commander, as her mentor. Lead from the front. Never ask your team to do something you haven’t done yourself. Watch their six.
A legacy in sand and stone
Her current read, a book on British history, says history is like a soap opera, with certain themes constantly recycling. She emphasizes that the great lesson to learn is that hate and blame never solve the problems they claim to fix. Her antidote to this cycle is a deep, personal connection to the individual stories behind the statistics.
She carries these stories with her through a collection of physical touchstones: a replica of a paratrooper’s helmet found at the “Dead Man’s Corner” shop and a weathered piece of the original wooden barracks from Camp Toccoa, Georgia, where Guth and the Easy Company first learned to be of soldiers.
She recalls walking through the Ardennes Forest on the 70th anniversary of the Battle of the Bulge and standing in small Belgian towns where the war still feels present. “There are still bullet hole sin the buildings. You can go up and touch them,” she says. “There’s a church where a bullet is still stuck in the metal fence where they fought for a bridge. You wonder: Who touched this last? What was their story?”
The weight of those stories is perhaps most visible at the Normandy American Cemetery. It was there, standing among the endless rows of white crosses with Guth, that the “blips” she had read about in school became real men. She remembers the quiet tradition of taking sand from the Normandy beaches and rubbing it into the porous stone of a headstone. The golden grains fill the engraving, suddenly making the name of a fallen friend leap out against the white marble.
“I don’t know how someone could experience that and not have it change you,” she says. “It’s overwhelming how many there are.”
Guth passed away in 2009 and is buried in Arlington National Cemetery, where Courtney still travels to visit him every year. It is a pilgrimage of loyalty, a way of “watching the six” of the man who first showed her the truth of the war.
Having stood on the sands of Normandy for the 70th anniversary of D-Day, Courtney’s ultimate dream is to transition from a student of history to a guide, leading tours herself. Until then, she continues to live by the belief that as long as we speak their names and refuse to sugar-coat their truths, those who sacrificed everything are never truly gone.
