The K9 Chronicles: Father-in-Law, Legend, Best Friend

I’ve found fortune in this life through the relationships I’ve forged along the way. To me, those connections and collective experiences amount to a great deal more than silver and gold. A genuine connection with another person can be the difference in a day, a week, a year, or a lifetime. And while I am indeed rich with a collection of friends and family around the world, there is only one friendship so profoundly unique that when I look back on the course of my life, I question where I’d be at all without him.

I was introduced to Colonel Dick “K9” Kindsfater, United States Marine Corps, Retired, December of 2000 – Christmas Eve. I’d begun dating his daughter, Sara, less than two months prior and the invitation to join them for a meal on Christmas Eve was a clear indication our relationship was flourishing.

In the days leading up to that dinner, I remember feeling nervous. A bit intimidated, even. To be sure, I’m not one to be anxious or overwhelmed meeting anybody. The way I see it, we’re all human and we all have a story to tell. But meeting the father of the woman I was falling in love with for the first time should be enough to make anyone take pause. Understanding he was what’s known as a “Full Bird Colonel”, only one step below Brigadier General, in the vaunted United States Marine Corps, had me stepping cautiously.

I envisioned a barrel-chested man, broad shouldered and square. His face would hold a steely stare. His chiseled jaw would be carved from granite, accentuated by a salt and pepper high-and-tight flattop haircut. He’d be at least six feet tall, and his handshake would be near crippling.

This was not at all the man I met.

When Sara ushered me through the door of their split-level single-family home, both he and his wife / Sara’s mother, Mary Ellen, met us at the landing. He was about five feet six inches tall, sporting a gray mustache. His hair was unkempt and a bit disheveled. He wore a light-colored tee-shirt, faded blue jeans, and cowboy boots which looked to be as old as he was. He was soft-spoken and kind, while also very clearly assessing me. And while I am an extrovert and often joke that I’ve never met a stranger, K9 was anything but. His quiet confidence was intimidating alright, though not like I’d imagined.

That night K9 and Mary Ellen prepared an exquisite meal. A beautiful salad, scalloped potatoes, roasted asparagus, and Steak Diane prepared and served table side in their comfortable, humble home in Fairfax, Virginia.

While enjoying a glass of wine and talking with both Sara and Mary Ellen, K9 was working alongside me. His portable stovetop burner sat atop a small table. He’d taken the time to get his pan ripping hot before carefully laying in my pounded flat veal medallion. Bit by bit he introduced each ingredient into the pan before finishing the preparation with a splash of cognac that he would light ablaze and burn off before cautiously plating his masterpiece and presenting it to me. He then went around the table and performed the same technique with each medallion before finally sitting down to enjoy his own. And it was as incredible as it sounds. It was truly one of the best, most memorable meals of my life, and remains that to this day.

As Sara and I grew closer, we shared more evenings and events with the Kindsfaters. Each time I had the opportunity to be around this man, I learned something different, and each time I was more impressed than the last.

I learned that K9 held a twenty-eight-year career in Marine Corps aviation. He was what’s known as a back-seater, or R.I.O. – Radar Intercept Officer. The aircraft he would spend much of his time in was the mighty F4 Phantom, known in aviation circles as the “Lead Sled”.

I learned that while he was on a thirteen-month deployment in Vietnam, predominantly flying out of an expeditionary air station in South Vietnam known as Chu Lai, that the Marine Corps had to institute new rules and regulations because of him. The reason? In those thirteen months K9 flew over 600 combat missions. This was recognized and celebrated as a Marine Corps record and thanks to newly instituted restrictions on crew rest and “bottle to throttle”, it’s a record that will stand indefinitely.

I learned that he attended the United States Navy Weapons and Tactics Instructor Program known commonly as “Top Gun”. Moreover, I learned that being a Marine and receiving orders to Top Gun was not common. When he reported to Top Gun, still a 1st Lieutenant, K9 had 600 combat missions and over 1,400 hours in the F-4. His experience in that aircraft and in combat was greater than any of the Navy instructors.

He would be one of the first Marines to graduate from the school.

Though as important as his military accolades are, and assuredly I could go on, they barely scratch the surface as to who the man is.

As I continued to get to know both Sara and her family, I learned that K9 was not her birth father. Rather, he adopted Sara when she was just five years old. Though coming to understand how and why was equally as impressive as anything he ever did in an airplane.

Sara’s birth father was Captain Daniel “Doc” Dougherty. Doc was also a Marine Corps aviator, though one whose service was tragically cut short following an air-to-air collision during “the break” that sent his F4 Phantom crashing to the runway at MCAS Yuma, AZ in 1977. Sara was three years old.

Grief stricken and alone, Mary Ellen moved back with her parents in Seaville, NJ, Sara in tow, with no idea how to move forward as a Gold Star wife and bereaved mother. About a year later, while visiting friends back in Beaufort, SC, Mary Ellen was introduced to K9. The two hit it off famously and within one year they were married. Though the marriage came with a condition. Once married, he would legally adopt Sara, help to raise her, and love her as his own.

The deal was made, the vows exchanged, and Sara’s family name became her middle name, while her adopted name became her identity. She would become Sara Dougherty Kindsfater, a name she was exceptionally proud of her whole life through.

Sara and I married on October 5th, 2002, and while we remained in Fairfax, VA to pursue professional ambitions, K9 and Mary Ellen retired, moving away from the hustle of the Washington DC metro area and into their forever-home in Beaufort, SC.

Beaufort is a small seaside town in the Lowcountry of South Carolina, rich with both Marine Corps history, as well as their own family history. K9 was stationed at Marine Corps Air Station Beaufort, known commonly as MCAS Beaufort, three different times throughout his career.

MCAS Beaufort was his first duty station as a flyer, and his last duty station where he would record his final flight as the commanding officer of the legendary VMFA-451 Warlords. This is the town that helped to shape him as a Marine, introduced him to Mary Ellen, saw him adopt a daughter, and build a life in a corner of the world the family would always call, “home”.

For many years, my relationship with my in-laws was typical. Sara and I would visit the Kindsfaters every Thanksgiving and then once or twice throughout the year as well. Though in 2011 we were blessed to welcome our son, Conor, into the world and suddenly, Beaufort just seemed too far away.

In 2016 Sara and I made a compromise. While I was primed and ready to escape the Northern Virginia grind altogether, I figured Beaufort to be the perfect place to make a life and raise our son. But Sara insisted we needed something in between big city and small town, and so we decided on Charleston; about ninety-minutes from Beaufort.

We moved to Charleston in August of 2016. It was the best decision we could ever make. We found a lifestyle rich with community, camaraderie, culture, and nearby family. We found home, and the Kindsfaters were just down the road.

And then on April 2nd, 2018, Sara was diagnosed with cancer. And then on April 2nd, 2022, Sara came home to hospice. She passed away seven days later.

Toward the end of Sara’s fight, Mary Ellen endured a few health challenges of her own and three and a half months after Sara passed, so too did Mary Ellen.

In mere months our collective family was shredded. Conor and I in Charleston, K9 in Beaufort, we were all three gutted. Reeling. Listless boats lost at sea, our matriarchs gone and with them, our direction. And that’s when it occurred to me. Conor and I needed K9, and K9 needed us.

I sold our home in Charleston and Conor and I moved to Beaufort, April 1st, 2023. As a widowed father to a young boy, I’ve had to make a great many decisions typically reserved for a conversation with a partner, and many of those I’ve second guessed. Moving to Beaufort would not be one of them.

K9 on one side of town, Conor and I on the other, and Conor’s school right in the middle of both. My career requires a great deal of travel, and I’m often gone for days at a time. Though whenever those work trips pop up, it’s as easy as dropping Conor and our family dog, Moultrie, at K9’s place, and he takes up the role of parenting. This has seen their relationship flourish, such that the young man Conor is becoming is being forged in the patience, understanding, and wisdom of a man through nearly 83 years of life. A man whose core values are integrity, honesty, conviction, and a seemingly unlimited amount of selfless love.

Subsequently, this has seen our friendship grow as well. In fact, I can confidently say that next to Sara, K9 is the closest friend I’ve ever had. Nearly every week we play golf, attend Conor’s football games, share meals, and genuinely enjoy one another’s company. This is our family, reborn. And given our collective circumstances, I’m honored to be raising my son alongside my father-in-law, legend, and my best friend.