As a Young Marine, He Survived One of America’s Bloodiest Modern Battles. Now a Dad, He Says, ‘I’ll Never Forget’

Editor’s note: For Veterans Day, this story reflects on the service members and families whose lives were changed by the two battles of Fallujah in Iraq in 2004 — among the most intense and deadly urban conflicts in recent U.S. military history.

On March 31, 2004, Iraqi insurgents ambushed a convoy of American contractors traveling through Fallujah. Four men were killed, pulled from their vehicles, and their bodies were mutilated and hung from a bridge spanning the Euphrates River.

In Washington, the attack demanded a swift and forceful response, says Keil Gentry, a retired colonel, Fallujah veteran and director of the National Museum of the Marine Corps in Triangle, Va.

What followed were two major U.S. military offensives. Operation Vigilant Resolve took place in April and May, and Operation Phantom Fury followed in November and December. The latter became the bloodiest battle of the Iraq War, forcing American-led forces into brutal, close-quarters urban combat — clearing streets, stairwells, and homes one block at a time.

Twenty-seven American service members were killed during the first operation, and another 107 died in the second. Thousands of civilians and insurgents also lost their lives.

“I’ll never forget it,” says retired Marine Justin Rettenberger, now 45, recalling his first day in Vigilant Resolve. “It was a completely different battlefield. It tested every ounce of training, discipline and courage we had.”

Rettenberger — known as “Rett” — served with Echo Company, 2nd Battalion, 1st Marine Division. At just 24 years old, he led a squad of Marines, many still in their teens, through some of the most dangerous streets in the world.

He describes their bond as “family first,” and his leadership as a blend of father figure, older brother, mentor and coach.

“You had to know them deeply — their strengths, their cracks, their fears,” he says. “When things got tough, I needed to know exactly who I wanted going through that door first, and who I needed going through last.”

Rettenberger enlisted as a teenager with his father’s blessing. “If you want to do something, do the best,” his dad, Kent, told him. “That’s the Marines.”

The challenge appealed to him instantly.

In early April, as his unit prepared for Vigilant Resolve, Rettenberger remembered staring across the landscape toward Fallujah at dawn — the images of the contractors’ bodies still fresh in his mind. “It fueled a deep sense of justice,” he says. “It was real, and I was about to walk straight into it.”

His unit fought nearly nonstop for months, often seven days a week and through sleepless nights. The pressure rarely eased.

“You’d have huge gunfights that put you at a level 10,” he says. “Even when things calmed down, you were still at an 8 because your life was constantly on the line.”

Some days they never fired a shot; other days were chaos from start to finish. April 26, 2004 — the day his close friend Aaron Cole Austin was killed — was one of those days.

“Hell of a guy,” Rettenberger says. “He gave his life on a rooftop as insurgents tried to overrun our position. Aaron was firing his machine gun while throwing grenades, and in close combat — just 8 to 10 feet — he was shot multiple times.”

Austin was posthumously awarded the Silver Star, the nation’s third-highest military decoration for valor.

“These battles were defining moments for Marines, sailors and soldiers who fought there,” says Gentry.

Rettenberger says the experience reshaped his understanding of the word “hero.”

“A true hero is someone who puts others before themselves,” he says. “Aaron chose to step into harm’s way for others. That’s heroism.”

It has been 21 years since Fallujah. Rettenberger went on to serve another decade, retiring in 2014 as a staff sergeant. He eventually settled in Southern California, earned an MBA and now works as a safety director for a logistics company. He loves fishing, trains intensely at the gym and competes in amateur physique competitions.

He also became a father to his daughter, Brielle, now 12. “Best thing that ever happened to me,” he says.

Fallujah still crosses his mind every day — not always the combat, he explains, but the lessons.

“When things go sideways at work or people don’t cooperate, I remember what I learned back then,” he says. “Stay calm, refocus, keep your eyes on the mission. Every day brings a new challenge.”

Rettenberger has been awarded several medals for heroism, including the Bronze Star with a “V” device for valor and two Purple Hearts.

Despite his accolades, he strives to remain humble. “I try to live by the Marine Corps values I learned early on,” he says. “Walk a straight line. Honor your commitments. Live out the values we were taught — every day.”