Eric Bakken, who served two tours in Afghanistan during his decade in the Army, has an important request.
He wants you to come to Blaine City Hall this Saturday. Noon sharp. And bring an American flag. He wants you to honor his best friend, Specialist Eric Finniginam — "Finn" to the Army buddies who knew him and loved him.
It doesn't matter whether you knew Finn. Most Minnesotans didn't. When Finn was killed — on May 1, 2010, by a rocket-propelled grenade in northeastern Afghanistan near the Pakistan border — the 26-year-old had never set foot in Minnesota. He was planning to come, though. Their deployment was just weeks from ending, and Bakken promised Finn they'd celebrate finishing a year at war by fishing Blackduck Lake.
Finn never made it to Minnesota. His body was sent back to the country where he grew up, the tiny Pacific island nation of Micronesia. But Bakken remembered his promise to the friend who attained U.S. citizenship months before he was killed. And Bakken has raised $30,000 and persuaded the city of Blaine to erect a memorial bench for Finn at its Veterans Memorial Park: "He needs a home, and that home's going to be Minnesota." Bakken also helped fly Finn's mother and daughter in from Micronesia for Saturday's ceremony.
"I want the streets lined, I want flags, I want enough people where it feels like people care — and not just the 100 people I know," Bakken said. "That's my vision, for his mom and his family and even for me, selfishly. I hope on Saturday I can get back a little piece of that faith in humanity that I've given up over time.''
They became best friends at Fort Carson, Colo., in the year before deploying to Afghanistan. Bakken was a Minnesota kid through and through: He grew up in Ham Lake, loved hunting and fishing, played hockey for Blaine schools, graduated from Andover High School in 2005. His mom hoped he'd join a less dangerous branch of the military as the post-9/11 wars raged. Instead, Bakken joined the infantry.
Six months after Bakken arrived at Fort Carson, a new guy came to the 4th Brigade Combat Team, 4th Infantry Division, Finn. Bakken showed him around: The chow hall, the laundry, the base tailor where Finn had to take his dress uniform for alterations. Bakken didn't know what to think of the smiling, goofy man who grew up in the middle of the Pacific Ocean in a cinder-block house.
Then some country music came on: "John Deere Green," by Joe Diffie. "In John Deere green, on a hot summer night, he wrote 'Billy Bob loves Charlene' in letters three foot high," the song goes.
"Finn started belting it out," Bakken recalled, "and I was like, 'Well, here we go!' "
They were attached at the hip. Every week, the two hiked up Pikes Peak, 60-pound rucksacks on their backs. Every weekend, Finn tagged along with Bakken and Staff Sgt. Johnny Bates on fishing and hunting adventures. When they went duck hunting, Finn and their hunting dog chased down fallen ducks. When they went ice fishing — Finn's first time on a frozen lake — he grossed out the group by introducing them to what he said was a Micronesian tradition.
"He ate a raw trout, and everyone almost puked," Bakken said. "He wasn't afraid of nothing."
"He just woke up laughing," Bates said. "He was legit the happiest human being I've ever been around."
Finn took to calling Bakken's mom "Mom," and Bakken took to calling Finn's mom "Mom." At the 2009 sendoff to their Afghanistan deployment, Bakken's mom, Trish Sanders, was an emotional wreck. Finn gave her a big hug: "Don't worry, Mom. I'll bring your son back safe."
It was a dangerous deployment in one of the most deadly areas of Afghanistan for American troops. Finn tried to keep things light with spot-on impersonations of the battalion commander. He put himself in harm's way for his battle buddies: When one soldier accidentally dropped his rucksack down a mountain, it was Finn who climbed down and hauled it back up.
A few months before he was killed, Finn went on leave and met his baby daughter. He came back ecstatic at being a father.
On the day Finn died, Bakken called his mother back in the United States. It was the middle of the night here; the call woke her up.
"Are you OK?" she asked her son.
"No," he replied. "Finn's dead."
He broke down in tears. Her heart sank.
Bakken took his best friend's death hard; even a dozen years later, he'd rather not talk about that awful day. But the last thing he wanted was for Finn to be forgotten. So, he and Bates still made their post-deployment fishing trip to Blackduck Lake. Bakken made a scrapbook and sent it to Finn's family. He started a nonprofit, The Fallen Outdoors, that he, Finn and Bates dreamed up while they were in Afghanistan; it organizes outdoor adventures for veterans, typically fishing and hunting trips. At Bakken's wedding, he kept an empty spot for Finn, a chair tilted against the table.
"He just doesn't want to let Finn's memory fade," Bakken's mom said. "This weekend is a huge moment for him. He really wants Finn's family to understand the depth of him giving his life for the country he just became a citizen for."
Bakken is 35 now, an event coordinator in Washington state, retired from the military and a proud father. He's both excited and terrified for Saturday, one of the biggest moments of his life and of Finn's family's life.
But he doesn't expect the ceremony itself to be the most memorable part. It will be meeting Finn's daughter, Alexa Ligow Finniginam. Bates will be there with his two kids, too.
More than the flag-lined streets, more than the Minnesotans showing up for a soldier they never met, Bakken is most excited to see the soldiers' kids just being kids, Bates' children and Finn's daughter playing with Bakken's 7-year-old daughter. Her name is Finnley Ligow Bakken. She is named after his best friend.
