A drone found him. That’s the blunt, ugly reality of how Chief Warrant Officer 3 Robert M. Marzan — a 54-year-old Sacramento native with more than three decades in uniform — came home to his family in a flag-draped transfer case.
The Department of War confirmed on March 1, 2026, that Marzan was killed in an unmanned aircraft system attack in Port Shuaiba, Kuwait, while supporting Operation Epic Fury. He was assigned to the 103rd Sustainment Command out of Des Moines, Iowa, and was one of six U.S. Army Reservists identified as casualties in what officials described as an Iranian retaliatory strike on a command center. His death marked a grim milestone: the first Californian killed in the U.S. war against Iran.
A Long Career, A Sudden End
Thirty-plus years of service. That’s what Marzan gave. A Filipino American who graduated from Elk Grove High School and built a military career spanning three decades, he was, by any measure, a lifer — the kind of soldier who kept re-upping long after he could have walked away. At 54, he was still in it. Still showing up. And on March 1st, that commitment cost him everything.
His remains were received with full honors at Dover Air Force Base in Delaware on March 7, 2026, where a U.S. Army carry team conducted a dignified transfer. Dover is where the country receives its fallen. It’s a ceremony most Americans never see — and one no family ever wants to attend.
California Responds
Back in Sacramento, the flags came down. Governor Gavin Newsom and Acting Governor Eleni Kounalakis ordered flags flown at half-staff at the State Capitol in Marzan’s honor, calling him one of six U.S. service members killed in the conflict with Iran. In a statement, Newsom’s office didn’t mince words about the weight of it: “California mourns the loss of Chief Warrant Officer Three Marzan, a courageous Californian whose service to our nation was marked by honor and distinction. We offer our deepest condolences to his wife and family during this time of profound sorrow.”
The statement went on to acknowledge what often gets buried beneath the politics of wartime — the families. “The sacrifices made by military families are immeasurable,” it read, “and California stands in solidarity with them, united in grief and gratitude.” Solemn words. Necessary ones. Still, a statement can only do so much when a husband and father doesn’t come home.
‘A Servant’s Heart’
Marzan is survived by his wife, Tina, and his daughter, Felicia, 30. The Los Angeles Times reported on the family’s grief in the days following his death, capturing a phrase that cut through all the official language and military formality. Those closest to Marzan remembered him plainly and powerfully: “You’re our Hero with a servant’s heart.”
It’s a phrase that resists any kind of cynicism. Whatever the arguments about the war, about the policy, about who fired first and why — none of that reaches the room where Tina and Felicia are sitting right now. Local coverage out of Sacramento described Marzan as a community figure, a Sacramento native who stayed connected to the region even as his military career took him far from home.
The Broader Picture
Marzan’s death is one piece of a much larger, still-unfolding story. Six U.S. service members killed so far in the Iran conflict — all Army Reservists, all caught in what appears to have been a coordinated drone strike on a Kuwaiti command center. The use of unmanned systems in this theater isn’t surprising; it’s been a defining feature of modern asymmetric warfare for years. But there’s something particularly stark about the fact that a 54-year-old reservist from Sacramento was sitting in that command center when the strike came.
These weren’t active-duty frontline troops rotating through a combat deployment. They were reservists — people with civilian lives, families, routines — called up to support a war that is still being defined in real time by the people prosecuting it.
That’s worth sitting with for a moment.
Chief Warrant Officer 3 Robert M. Marzan served for over 30 years, survived countless deployments and decisions and close calls that we’ll never know about — and in the end, it was an unmanned aircraft over Kuwait that had the final word. His family called him a hero with a servant’s heart. The least the rest of us can do is remember the name.
