Remembering a fallen Marine from Richland

Marine Sgt. Dietrich Schmieman is expected to come home to Richland on Aug 10.

He left in 2000, a 19-year-old determined to become not just a Marine, but part of its elite Special Operations Command.

“It was all or nothing for Dietrich,” said his mother, Susan Schmieman of Richland.

He achieved his goal, serving in the 2nd Raider Battalion at Camp Lejeune, N.C., at the time of his death.

He was one of 16 service members who died July 10 when a military cargo plane crashed in a Mississippi field.

The last time he talked with his father about his work, he said all he wanted to be was what he was then — a critical skills operator in special operations, the first guy in the fight.

“He loved what he did,” his mother said. “He was happy every day. … It just ended too quickly.”

His decision to become a Marine was not what his family expected.

He excelled in school, graduating from Hanford High School with two years of college already completed through the Running Start program. He applied to a couple of universities, but as a junior he needed to declare a major and was uncertain of what career he wanted to pursue.

He talked about studying business, psychology and — briefly — accounting, before his father reminded him that although he may excel at mathematics he was terrible at arithmetic.

Dietrich sent months carefully researching the Marines, his mother said.

“He did love a physical challenge,” Susan said. “It was a very big pull for him.”

But it takes more than physical endurance to make it through the training for Special Operations. It requires intelligence, mental strength and discipline.

His mother sees some of that mental strength in his childhood pictures.

Covered with chicken pox, he had a smile on his face as he showed off his spots. Scrubbing a toilet in oversize rubber gloves, he’s looking up and grinning.

He was a “skinny stick of a guy” as a teenager, but bulked up to become a Marine. That included running, which he hated, but he had the discipline to stick with it, his mother said.

His father remembers his first day of first grade, ending with Dietrich reminding his teacher that she had made no homework assignment.

“Do you want homework?” she asked him.

“This isn’t kindergarten, you know,” he answered, and got his homework assignment.

Both parents remember him as a mischievous child.

One day when Dietrich was 4 years old, his two older brothers, Aaron and Hans, came running outside where their parents were working in the yard. Dietrich was stuck on the ceiling, they said.

His brothers had challenged him to climb up the hallway wall. He did it, with his feet on one wall and his hands on the other. But once he reached the top, he couldn’t get down.

His father caught him just as his strength gave out.

He wanted to know what the rules were and then wanted to step over them, just a little.

His father remembers him making a deal that he would learn how to build a computer as an educational project, with the $2,000 expense of the parts he wanted split between the father and son.

First Dietrich asked for some of the parts for Christmas. Then he asked for more for his birthday the next month. With half the equipment accumulated, he came back for the $1,000 his father had promised.

There was something of Tom Sawyer in him, his mother said.

The friends he made at Christ the King Catholic School in Richland remained his buddies for life, with his group of friends covering the social and economic spectrum.

“Dietrich shared himself so selflessly with people all over the place,” his mother said. “He had a charm to worm his way into anyone’s heart.”

He treated everyone with respect, a trait his youth pastor remembers he had even as a boy.

Each visit home meant seeing as many of his friends as possible. He partied with them, skied, camped and rode motorcycles. And then he would dress up for a croquet party in his parents’ backyard.

He’d taken up surfing since leaving the Tri-Cities — hurricane weather was the best, he said. Plans were in the works to turn a young black Labrador, Penelope, that he and his roommate had recently acquired into a surfing dog.

But “he loved the Pacific Northwest,” Susan said.

And if he loved it, he had it tattooed on the pale skin that went with his blond hair and blue eyes.

“Made in the Pacific Northwest” said one tattoo. Others were influenced by Japanese culture after being based in Japan.

His back featured two large angels. He had wanted Philippians 4:8 added to his back next, but had run out of room, he told his mother.

“Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable — if anything is excellent or praiseworthy — think about such things,” the Bible verse reads.

The verse was written on a banner that hung in his fifth grade classroom.

His parents don’t know a lot about what he did as a Marine.

He did not brag about being part of the raider battalion or talk about his work.

He used to joke with his mother that if he told her what he did, he would have to kill her.

He served as the communications Marine and joint terminal attack controller for his special operations team. It was his responsibility to call in aircraft for strikes, using extreme precision to make sure the correct target was hit.

He was trained in military parachuting and executed more than 60 military free fall jumps.

His commander told his father that he was picked for the training he was traveling to attend earlier this month because he stood out in his unit for his intelligence and dependability.

His parents recently found the well-worn book he carried through basic training, containing the information he needed to learn, left in his bedroom in Richland.

On the inside cover is the U.S. Military Code of Conduct.

“I am an American, fighting in the forces which guard my country and our way of life. I am prepared to give my life in their defense,” says Article I.

“He did that,” Susan said. “He did it selflessly and without fear.”

She’s never known such grief as the mourning for losing a child, she said.

It’s spread among the families of all 16 men who died in the Mississippi plane crash, all of them “cream of the crop,” she said.

There is some solace in knowing that someday she will see him again. She’s taking the advice of her son’s favored scripture, trying to focus on what is noble, right and excellent, she said.

Phillippians 4:8 will be read at his service, part of the instructions Dietrich left, which his parents do not know if that is his idea or a requirement of the Marines.

A celebration of life and military honors is scheduled for 10 a.m. Aug. 12 at Central Church in Richland. The public is welcome.

His ashes will be spread on Mount Rainier, at Dietrich’s request.

Plans are being made for his team to go skydiving when they come to the Tri-Cities. His mother says she’d like to participate, to experience the thrill that her son knew.

His remains are expected to be flown to the Pasco airport on Aug. 10, although the date remains tentative.

A procession is planned to Einan’s at Sunset in Richland, with the time and route yet to be announced. His family is hoping that firefighters and other first responders will participate.

Asked what people can do to help, Susan asked that the American flag be flown at half mast. She also asked for prayers, not only for those who serve in the military but for all who put their lives in harm’s way to protect the public.

This story was originally published July 22, 2017 at 7:02 PM with the headline "Remembering a fallen Marine from Richland."