In one grieving West Virginia city, people adorned mailboxes and street signs with red ribbons on Friday. In a shaken town across the state, they pinned on blue ribbons.
These communities, Martinsburg and Webster Springs, are separated by mountains and 200 miles of twisting roads. But on Friday they were bound together in red-and-blue grief as the respective hometowns of Staff Sgt. Andrew Wolfe and Specialist Sarah Beckstrom, the two National Guard members who were attacked this week in Washington, D.C.
It was a somber holiday week for the two communities. At coffee shops, a hot-dog stand and veterans halls, people were planning prayer vigils and trying to make sense of the attack, which took place on the eve of Thanksgiving, killing Specialist Beckstrom and wounding Sergeant Wolfe. Sergeant Wolfe was in critical condition on Friday.
“This hit everyone really hard,” said one man who knew Specialist Beckstrom from grade school. “I feel broken from their pain and suffering,” a woman in Martinsburg said of Sergeant Wolfe’s family.
The authorities said the attack had been carried out by a 29-year-old man from Afghanistan who had worked with Americans during the war in his country. They said the suspect, Rahmanullah Lakanwal, had driven across the country from his home in Washington State and opened fire on the two Guard members outside a metro station near the White House. He was injured in the attack and was in custody.
The death of Specialist Beckstrom, who was 20, rattled the 700-person town of Webster Springs, a tidy tableau of cafes and outdoor shops in the West Virginia mountains where she went to high school.
“This is a very rural area,” said Angie Cowger, the owner of the Custard Stand, the fast-food joint where Specialist Beckstrom once worked, dishing out chili dogs and desserts. “Everyone knows one another, and it’s so hard to see someone that young denied a chance to succeed.”
Ms. Cowger described Specialist Beckstrom as a fiercely protective big sister. She had enlisted in the West Virginia Army National Guard in part to help pay for college so she could pursue a career with the F.B.I. or other law enforcement agencies.
“She knew what she wanted,” Ms. Cowger said.
Mayor Don McCourt of Webster Springs said Specialist Beckstrom had gone to high school with his youngest grandson. He called her a “good kid” who was determined to make a future for herself. Her death has left the entire town heartbroken, he said.
A block away from the Custard Stand, customers at the Quarter Store clothing resale shop were aghast at the shooting and Specialist Beckstrom’s death.
“Whether or not you knew her or not, it affects you,” said Mildred Ervin, the store’s owner.
About a four-hour drive away, flags across Martinsburg, a 20,000-person city, flapped at half-staff on Friday as snow flurries fell.
Martinsburg, where Sergeant Wolfe grew up, sits near the Maryland border and has a strong industrial and military presence. The West Virginia Air National Guard base, where Sergeant Wolfe served, is a just few miles from his childhood home, and hulking C-series military aircraft can be seen from the road.
Amy Mandas, 46, a teller supervisor whose children had gone to school with Sergeant Wolfe, lowered the flags at her bank Friday morning. “You take a deep breath and pull them down and hope for the best,” she said.
Mayor Kevin Knowles said people around the city were organizing a campaign to hang up red ribbons to show their support for Sergeant Wolfe. At one home, the owners said they had tied the biggest red ribbon they had to their mailbox, with a small American flag in the ground below.
At the Copper Still Pub and Grill, one of the watering holes near the base, plaques and signs on the walls honor the U.S. Army, Vietnam veterans and the Marines, reflecting the deep military ties in Martinsburg.
Victoria Knipple, 57, a patron, said her son was in the Air National Guard base in Martinsburg, like Sergeant Wolfe, though she added that they did not know each other. She was saddened by the shooting. But “ultimately when your son takes the oath to go into the military, you know that can happen,” she said. “They can be deployed.”
Ms. Knipple’s daughter, Lucretia Knipple, 27, said that everyone in Martinsburg seemed to know someone who worked on the base, making the attack feel even more personal.
“It happened here,” she said, with tears welling up. “On home turf.”
Bernard Mokam covers breaking news.
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