Kenneth 'Aaron' Kincaid IV, killed by roadside bomb

LILBURN - Aaron Kincaid had dreams of being Evel Knievel, the motorcycle-riding, high-jumping daredevil.

When he was young and lived on a farm in Ohio, Kincaid's father said, he tried to imitate the stuntman and took a flying leap on his motorcycle from a hay wagon that was three feet off the ground.

Just like the oft-injured Knievel, Kincaid didn't end the episode unscathed. A gash on his eyebrow became a scar, and Kincaid's father said he always recalled where it came from when he looked at his son.

The 25-year-old, who became Kenneth E. Kincaid IV when he was adopted at 4 days old but always went by Aaron, was one of two soldiers killed in Iraq on Saturday. He died when a bomb exploded near the Humvee he was driving. Three other soldiers were also injured.

Kincaid's father, Kenneth E. Kincaid III - who goes by Skip - said he was a delightful child who grew up to be a great father to his two daughters.
"He was always so full of energy and so full of life," the elder Kincaid said. "He's going to be missed so much."

Marcia Kincaid, his mother, said everyone loved her son and that he met people wherever he went. She recalled a time when, at 3, he went to play outside and ended up having tea with some neighbors she had never met.

When they lived in Illinois, Marcia Kincaid said, she and her son used to take long, 12-mile bike rides in a loop before going to breakfast at Hardee's. At first, regulars used to look at their spandex pants quizzically, but it wasn't long before Kincaid wore them down with his smile.

"He would say, 'How are you this morning?' and 'What's your name?'" she said. "He made friends, he helped people, he helped strangers."

Kincaid has two daughters with Rachel, his wife of six years, and both his parents said that one of his great loves was fishing with 5-year-old Kennedy and 3-year-old Abby. Marcia Kincaid said he even bought the girls Barbie fishing poles and always wore an old baseball cap with a fish hook stuck in it.

Kincaid lived in Lilburn for 10 years before moving to Hawaii, where he was based. He was a student at Lyman Ward Military Academy, a military boarding school in Alabama, and attended Brookwood High School before he graduated from Loganville's Faith Academy.

Kincaid's father said he worked at auto dealers and in construction before deciding that he wanted to use the military to get an education to parlay into a better career so he could provide for his daughters.

"He's always been a doer," Skip Kincaid said. "Whatever he went after, he did it well."

When he was killed in Riyadh, Kincaid had just been in Iraq for a month after joining the Army in October. He was a private first class with the 2nd Battalion, 27th Infantry Regiment, 3rd Brigade.

Marcia Kincaid said her son was excited about going to Iraq before he left, and that his biggest worry was an injury to his finger that he thought might have sidelined him while it healed.

"You never think it's going to be yours. Never in this world," she said. "We talked before he went and he was excited about going, but concerned because he cut his finger before he left. It was his trigger finger. He was afraid they wouldn't let him go. Can you imagine?"

In an e-mail he sent to his father three days before he died, Kincaid wrote that everything was fine, before changing his tone.

"Who am I kidding?" his father said Kincaid wrote. "It's terrible over here. I hate seeing guys get killed. I'm one of the lucky ones."

Skip Kincaid said his first reaction to hearing the news was one of disbelief. Marcia Kincaid said she learned when her daughter-in-law called her Saturday, but that the military did not arrive to tell her the news until Monday.

Funeral arrangements still have not been made because Kincaid's body has not been returned yet, his parents said. The funeral will be held some time next week at St. Marguerite D'Youville Catholic Church, and Kincaid will be buried at the Georgia National Cemetery with full military honors.

Jeff Damron, a school counselor and varsity basketball coach at Lyman Ward, said he had not talked to Kincaid in a decade, but remembered him as a coach's dream. He was always enthusiastic, he said, and loved sports. Marcia Kincaid said he went through phases with every sport - golf, football, baseball - and was a Braves and Pittsburgh Pirates fan. He also loved to go up in his father's plane with his younger brother, Marc, she said.

Skip Kincaid said he will remember his son's curly hair, while Marcia Kincaid said she'll recall his blue eyes and the fact that he always wore red.

"He had the coolest smile in the world," she said. "He was one handsome, loving, giving son who will be forever missed."

From the Gwinett Daily Post

A Father's Letter to His Fallen Son

This is an edited version of a letter written Sept. 24 by Kenneth E. “Skip” Kincaid III, the father of Pfc. Kenneth E. “Aaron” Kincaid IV. Aaron died in Iraq on Sept. 23 when a bomb exploded near the Humvee he was driving.

Hello again, Aaron.

It sure seems like we just saw each other out in Hawaii on the Fourth of July. I am so happy we got to visit, fish, drink a little and talk a lot. You have two beautiful daughters in Keni and Abi.

I suddenly, this still night in Georgia, feel you near me again. We have wept and grieved over your sudden death. A slight comfort is that one of the three men you may have helped save has called Rachel to tell her you never knew what hit you and that you will probably be OK in an open casket next week.

We shall see, but you did shave all your hair for that 135-degree heat. I prefer to remember your curly hair as a 3-year-old or the goatee you sported this summer.

Dammit, Aaron, you are our handsome hero — and now you’ll be forever 25 years old. I am just a little envious that you are getting to meet Jesus before me, but I will wait my turn, Lord.

I am writing to thank you for the 25 years of joy I shall forever remember and for the peace I am beginning to feel already after finding out you are with our Lord in heaven.

You see, now that you have been a parent five years, you are just beginning to get the hang of parental concern, something many confuse with “worry.” But I remember a talk I attended at St. Marguerite during Lent a few years ago, where the priestly scholar taught us that “worry” is really a sin against God for permitting ourselves to attempt to do his job.

I said you had just a touch of the supreme parental concern when you realized you were no longer in 135 degrees in the shade (of your Humvee) but now in the eternal bliss of the hereafter. You may — for just a second — have worried about family — then you met Him and gained the thing I am most envious of (wisdom of the ages).

I believe Our Lord shared with you His plan for you and for your family, and you now realize God really is in charge and not to worry ever again.

I elected to record these beliefs I have for Keni, Abi and Rachel to reflect upon and, Lord willing, for someone steadier than me to deliver for them to hear. As they grow older, they can read what their grandpa said and remember you are our hero in eternity now.

Aaron, you are watching over us now and you see how we weep and miss you. What I am just being blessed to notice (remember, I told you the doorways to blessings would open when least expected) is that as I am grieving and weeping so severely I cannot think or even do simple math to make change today — is that I am not feeling any of the fear I had felt for you being in harm’s way. My fears are gone.

I went out tonight to hang two new American flags at half-mast for you and to add black ribbons to your yellow ones on so many of the trees here when I spotted you watching me.

I saw the most elegant of pink, blue, purple, white and orange sunsets I have ever seen and realized with a profound rush of inner tranquility. You are my sunset and will forever be there in my every sunrise and every sunset.

Yeah, corny I know, and this from the dad who bored you with so many thousands of sunset slides as you were growing up. I now realize what the awesome sunsets really are — they are the smiles of all our loved ones, if you just relax and watch.

I stood and looked up into the night sky and enjoyed so many stars and the awesome calm, like you surely have now — this pure, peaceful feeling hit me again as I realized you, my son, will be with me on every flight I fly, on every camping I enjoy and as I swim or sail or do whatever I do under Our Lord’s great sky.

Amen, love Dad and all of us back here who try not to worry anymore.

From the Gwinnett Daily Post