Lance Cpl. John T. Sims

ALEXANDER CITY, Ala. - Margaret Kellum was excited when her son decided to enter the Marine Corps' delayed-enlistment program.

Oh, J.T. Sims had considered life as an Army Ranger or a Navy SEAL. But there was something about that fancy uniform, that TV commercial, that Semper Fi business.

So when he and Benjamin Russell High School buddies Bruce Sims and Stephen Barrett decided as juniors to enter the Marines after graduation, mom was happy because J.T. was happy.

The possibility of losing her boy in combat wasn't even a consideration back then. It was 1999, two years before the horror of Sept. 11 and more than three years before the outbreak of war in Iraq.

But even so, "I hoped he'd get into computers," she said. "It would be a nice, safe life."

Instead, J.T. wanted to be an infantryman.

Deep down, she knew that the Marines would be good for her only son. "He needed to grow up."

And the young man she saw last December had indeed grown up during his three years away from Tallapoosa County.

"He was my baby when he left for boot camp," she said. "He was a man when he went off to war."

J.T. had been home as recently as the week before Christmas. Camp Pendleton, Calif., granted him emergency leave after his mom was seriously injured in a car accident.

"I wanted the little rat to keep MP'ing out at Pendleton," Kellum said. "But he kept saying he wanted to go to Iraq. He said he could pull some strings. And he did. He left in February."

He didn't have a chance on his leave to touch base with Barrett, now safely back at Camp Lejeune, N.C., after a stint in Iraq.

"Maybe," he told his mom, "Bruce and Stephen and me can get together when I get back."

Get together they did.

On April 10, Lance Cpl. John Thomas Sims Jr. died of wounds he'd received in Anbar province, Iraq. He was 21. On April 19 he was buried in the dress blues he was so proud of.

Bruce Sims, a member of the Marines' crack honor guard, accompanied J.T.'s body home from Dover Air Force Base, Del. Barrett, with his wife and baby son, attended the funeral.

Sherry Pritchard, Sims’ counselor at Russell High, said that though many outranked J.T. academically in the Class of 2001, "he's the one who has gained the respect of everyone in our town. He truly left his mark."

Margaret Kellum and her husband, Jerry, a truck driver, live in a single-wide trailer south of Alex City on Highway 63, midway between the seat of Tallapoosa County and Kowaliga Beach, where legend has it Hank Williams penned one of his trademark songs.

It's the place J.T. called home. It's where his family convened after hearing the news of his death.

It had been almost three years since the three young men headed off to boot camp at Parris Island, S.C., immediately after graduation.

The Sims boys weren't related, not by blood anyway. But they shared a bond – a love for the kind of excitement Tallapoosa County didn't offer.

Life in Alex City, the county seat of 16,059 folks, centers on Lake Martin. It's where the wealthy of Birmingham have built summer homes, where teens head on just about any sunny afternoon and where Margaret Kellum taught her son how to fish.

The Russell mill used to be the focal point of this part of east Alabama, and is still its major employer. But as many textile jobs went elsewhere, the chamber of commerce began bragging that the city offered "the best of outdoor living and small-town charm in one of the top retirement places in the country."

J.T., Bruce and Stephen weren't ready for retirement.

Micky Griggs, good friends with all three, considered joining the military after high school, but only briefly. "I decided to stay around here and help out in my family's business,” the local Domino's Pizza.

Because his family lives on the lake, the kids hung out at Micky's.

"We'd probably be riding Wave Runners out to Chimney Rock if those three were all here right now," said Griggs, who spends most of his days delivering pizza.

Leaping from the high ledges at the Rock, an island retreat in the middle of the lake, is the local kids' version of "Fear Factor."

It wasn't the easiest thing J.T. Sims had ever done. He was afraid of heights. But he never missed a chance to jump.

Amy Barrett recalled her wedding to Stephen back in December 2002. "J.T. had taken leave to attend the wedding. He and his buddies wrapped our car in some kind of tape, filled it with balloons and put Vaseline on all the door handles. We, of course, knew exactly who was behind it."

Micky Griggs, Stephen Barrett and another of J.T.'s pals, Rob Hurst, Saran-wrapped the Kellums’ car at the funeral, leaving inside a stuffed teddy bear wearing a Marine uniform.

Police officers asked Margaret if she wanted to file a complaint against the boys. "I really thought it was pretty funny," she said. "I figured J.T. put them up to it."

There are stories of J.T. riding tricycles through the halls of Wal-Mart, where his friend Eric Scoggins and Bruce Sims' mother, Tracy Lindsey, work.

He enjoyed picking up fellow employees at Arby's _ his only job before enlisting – and depositing them in garbage cans. Maybe he savored attention, his mom said, "because he was so short" – 5 feet 3 might be an exaggeration – "or maybe because he was raised with five girls and needed to make himself heard." Jerry Kellum had three daughters from a first marriage; Margaret had two girls from her first marriage.

What many of his friends remember are his driving skills.

"He'd get in his truck or his old Maverick, turn up the radio and drive like a madman through town," Scoggins said. "I can't tell you how many tickets he picked up."

But when Scoggins, two years younger than Sims, wanted to learn how to drive, he turned to J.T. "I wanted to learn from the best."

Even Jerry Kellum admits that his stepson had a heavy foot. "He got one of his cars up to 145 miles an hour," he said, smiling.

"One of our police officers complained to me that the city's revenue had dropped considerably after J.T. enlisted," Margaret Kellum said, laughing. "They wanted to know when he'd be coming home." Her eyes began to water.

Cpl. Bruce Sims remembers getting a call from Margaret Kellum, asking if he could arrange to accompany J.T.'s body back home. "I told her it would be an honor,” he said. “J.T. was an outstanding Marine. I'm only sorry I never told him how great a person he was."

Cpl. Stephen Barrett, who still has difficulty coping with J.T.'s death, also came home for the funeral. "It just won't be the same without him," he lamented.

The funeral cortege, numbering 151 cars, stretched for miles as it slowly made its way from West End Baptist Church to the cemetery.

Crystal Martin of the Radney Funeral Home called the procession "probably the biggest we've ever had here."

Mayor Don McClellan ordered city flags to be flown at half-staff.

Reporters from Montgomery and Birmingham attended the funeral. So did local politicians. "I'm not surprised by the turnout," said the Rev. Donald DeLee, who officiated at the burial. "The man was a hero."