Van of Valor

By Dr. Kevin P. Wallace
Van of Valor

VIRGINIA CITY, NV – The high desert of Nevada, with its vast, silent landscapes and history forged in silver and grit, has long been a cradle of American resilience. 

For Lauren Wallace and the Van of Valor, this region is not just a point on a map, but a sacred ground that has given some of its finest sons to the nation’s most recent wars. 

Traveling in their converted van, their mission is to ensure that the stories of sacrifice from communities like these are not lost to the wind.

“From the shores of Lake Tahoe to the mining towns of the Great Basin, the legacy of service runs deep,” said Wallace, a practicing anthropologist and history graduate student at Harvard University. “This is a tribute to the heroes from the shadow of the Sierra Nevada who answered the call, and the families who live with the echo of their absence.”

The following fallen service members all hail from the area, and are memorialized in downtown Virginia City. They are also now permanently memorialized on the Van of Valor itself:

The Red-Haired Hugger Who Lit Up the Room

The memory of Army Sgt. Timothy M. Smith is not one of silence or sorrow, but of laughter that arrived before he did. 

“That smile walked into a room before he did,” recalled Teresa Ortiz, a friend of the family. Known for his bright red hair and an irrepressible spirit, Smith, 25, of South Lake Tahoe, Calif., was killed on April 7, 2008, in Baghdad when his vehicle encountered an improvised explosive device.

Assigned to the 10th Mountain Division out of Fort Polk, Louisiana, Smith was remembered by his sister, Jackie, as an “amazing, amazing person” who had an uncanny ability to lighten any situation. He was the class clown, the people person who got along with everyone at South Tahoe High School. 

Irma Salazar, a campus security guard and his former classmate, fondly recalled the time she carried him in her arms to class, both of them laughing the whole way.

But behind the humor was a dedicated soldier and a devoted family man. He loved snowboarding, four-wheeling, and cooking for his wife, Shayna. He was a break-dancer, a hugger, and a veteran of a tour in Afghanistan before deploying to Iraq.

His greatest legacy is his son, Riley, who was just one year old when his father was killed. At his funeral, the depth of Smith’s leadership was laid bare by a fellow soldier. 

“Every leader wants his soldiers to end up being better leaders than he is, and for the first time, Sgt. Smith, I’m going to say this: You were,” said Sgt. Sammy Baker, a testament to the man who led not just with rank, but with heart.

The Goofball Who Found His Purpose

Pfc. Benjamin B. Tollefson’s laugh was unforgettable — a high-pitched, operatic sound that his best friend, Cory Renfrow, said was both memorable and contagious. 

But the 22-year-old from Concord, Calif., was more than just the life of the party. He was a young man who found his direction in the ranks of the U.S. Army, embracing the responsibilities of a husband, a father, and an infantryman with unwavering commitment.

Assigned to Fort Riley, Kansas, Tollefson was killed on New Year’s Eve, 2008, in Balad, Iraq, of wounds suffered when insurgents attacked his unit with indirect fire in Ghazaliya. 

His death made him the last of 314 U.S. soldiers to die in Iraq that year.

Friends and family described the 2005 Berean Christian High School graduate as a “goofball.” He was also a defensive lineman, a metal band screamer, and a mullet-sporting cutup who could never just smile for a camera. Yet, when he signed his enlistment papers in the summer of 2007, a profound change came over him. 

“He came home a different kid,” said his father, Charles Tollefson. “He matured… just overnight.”

That maturity was tested and proven in a whirlwind. He married his high school sweetheart, Natalie, while home from boot camp. Their son, Mac James, was born in April 2008. Tollefson made it to the hospital with just 45 minutes to spare. 

He deployed to Iraq that September for a 12-month tour that would last only three.

“If everyone could love their wife and kids as much as he did, the world would be a better place,” Renfrow said. Tollefson’s story is one of a transformative journey from youthful exuberance to the ultimate sacrifice, all for the family he loved.

The 9/11 Patriot Who Looked After His Men

The terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, left an indelible mark on a generation. For 17-year-old Anthony Schober of Gardnerville, Nevada, the response was clear. 

“He was affected by the 9/11 incident,” said his father, Ed Schober. “I asked whether he was sure about this and really wanted to do it. He said yes, so I signed the papers.”

That decision set Sgt. Anthony J. Schober, 23, on a path of profound service. 

He was on his fourth tour in Iraq when he was killed on May 12, 2007, in Al Taqa. He was leading a squad on a mission to prevent insurgents from planting roadside bombs when their observation post was ambushed with automatic fire and explosives. The attack was so fierce that his remains had to be identified through DNA testing.

Schober was a soldier’s soldier. 

“Not once did he mention he wanted to leave the military,” his father said. Even on leave, he talked about getting back to Iraq to “look after my men.” 

His dedication was honored with a Purple Heart and a Bronze Star.

At his funeral in Santa Rosa, California, his family’s grief was palpable. His sister, Rebecca, clutched his photo, while his youngest sister, Jessica, wished her brother could have met her infant son, Konner. 

The Army presented Rebecca with a copy of her brother’s dog tags, which had been stolen in the ambush. “This was all I wanted,” she said. 

Schober’s legacy is one of unwavering loyalty, born from a single day of infamy and forged in the deserts of Iraq.

The Reno Native on His First Deployment

The flag-draped transfer case carrying the remains of Pfc. Kevin C. Thomson arrived at Dover Air Force Base, Delaware, on October 6, 2009, a somber ritual for a young soldier from Reno, Nevada, who had loved serving his country. 

Thomson, 22, was killed just three days earlier in one of the deadliest battles for U.S. forces in Afghanistan in more than a year.

He was one of eight soldiers from Fort Carson’s 4th Brigade Combat Team killed when hundreds of insurgents armed with rifles and rocket-propelled grenades stormed their remote combat outpost in Kamdesh. 

The attack was complex and sustained, raging throughout the day.

Thomson had been in the Army for only a year and a half. This was his first deployment. In that short time, he had earned the respect of his comrades and the honors that attested to his bravery: a Bronze Star Medal, a Purple Heart, and a Combat Action Badge, among others.

His sacrifice, along with that of his brothers-in-arms, marked the deadliest day for Fort Carson since the Vietnam War. 

The battle underscored the brutal reality of the conflict in remote Afghan outposts. For the Thomson family in Reno, and for a nation, his death was a stark reminder of the cost of freedom, paid by a young man who, in a short time, had committed himself fully to his duty.

The Winnemucca Medic Who Followed His Calling

The dusty town of Winnemucca, Nevada, is a world away from the volatile streets of Ramadi, Iraq. 

But for Pfc. David N. Crombie, the path from his hometown to a Humvee in the heart of Anbar province was a direct one, driven by a sense of purpose. 

“It was just something he wanted to do,” his stepfather, Dennis Laybourn, told the Reno Gazette-Journal. The Van of Valor was on an accelerated mission due to the Van itself being broken-down in Billings, Montana, and the team having to rent cars and pay for hotels to execute their mission.

Crombie, a combat medic assigned to the 1st Armored Division in Germany, was killed on June 7, 2006, when a roadside bomb exploded near his fully armored Humvee. He and 1st Lt. Scott M. Love were passengers in the vehicle, engaged in operations against the enemy.

As a medic, Crombie’s role was one of preservation and care, a testament to his character. He had left for basic training just a year earlier, in June 2005, carrying with him the support of his mother, Jennifer Laybourn, his stepfather, and two brothers. 

His decision to join the Army was a clear-eyed commitment, a calling he felt compelled to answer. The medic from the Nevada high desert gave his life in service to his fellow soldiers, a final, profound act of care.

Keep the Van of Valor Mission Rolling

The Van of Valor, through its mission to travel the lower 48 states, continues to collect and share these stories. They remind us that behind every name on a casualty list is a hometown, a family, and a story of sacrifice that must be preserved. They urge anyone who knows a Purple Heart recipient or a Gold Star family with a story to share to contact them, ensuring that these American patriots are never forgotten.

They have a bold vision for the future.

The Mission Evolves: After this cross-country sprint, we will transition to a sustainable, long-term mission. We’ll continue to seek out and record these vital stories, traveling as needed to ensure every voice is heard.

The Van Becomes a Sanctuary: This is where the dream gets bigger. The Van will be reborn as a mobile memorial and museum. Imagine walking through a space where the outside honors the Fallen, and the inside surrounds you with the voices and faces of heroes. Visitors will be able to spend hours immersed in these stories, discovering new layers of courage and sacrifice with every visit.

They are racing against time to preserve the stories of our heroes. The Van of Valor mission is in full swing, but we need your help to get our mobile museum home and ensure these voices of courage are never forgotten. Every small donation fuels a legacy. Please, help us bring them home: www.HelpVoV.com