Marine Lance Cpl. Daniel J. Santee, 21, Mission Viejo; killed in Humvee accident

Daniel Santee sought out adventure. He loved heights and was always looking for trees to climb, mountains to scale and records to set.

When he was 2 years old, Danny, as he was called, climbed out of his crib while his mother cooked dinner downstairs. He managed to pry the screen off his bedroom window and toddle out onto the roof of the family’s Mission Viejo house -- in front of a crowd of amazed, anxious and alarmed neighbors who just happened to witness the feat. They alerted his mother, who swept him to safety.

So, said his mother, Cathy Santee, perhaps it was fitting that when Marine Corps Lance Cpl. Daniel J. Santee, 21, met his death April 14 on a road in Iraq’s Al Anbar province, west of Baghdad, he had been perched atop a Humvee turret, guarding a convoy of fellow Marines.

The vehicle swerved to miss a pothole and tipped over, crushing him, his mother said.

Santee was assigned to Combat Logistics Regiment 27, 2nd Marine Logistics Group, 2nd Marine Expeditionary Force at Camp Lejeune, N.C.

“He was a boy completely full of life,” his mother said.

“I have never seen him not have a positive attitude about everything, including his chance of dying in Iraq. He knew that. He was prepared for that. He loved being a Marine. He told me, ‘Mom, this is what I was born to do.’ ”

Like his older brother and sister, the Mission Viejo resident grew up in a tight-knit community of family, friends and his church, Aliso Creek Presbyterian.

He was home-schooled and developed a close bond with a group of other “home-schoolers,” as they were known, said church youth minister and leader Sam Pepke.

“Those kids are still friends today,” he said.

Pepke knew Santee for almost 14 years. But he said the young man always called him Mr. Pepke. “I would have rather he called me Sam,” Pepke said. “Our relationship was different.”

When Pepke took Santee surfing for the first time, about five years ago, Santee needed no lessons. He understood instinctively what to do. That said a lot about him, Pepke said: “His faith was very real and he lived it out. He wasn’t afraid of things.”

Before he enlisted in the Marines, Santee had dreams of becoming a firefighter. He took fire science classes at Santa Ana College and spent a year working for the city of Costa Mesa as a Fire Department intern. His father had been a Costa Mesa police officer.

Fire Capt. Curt Yoder said that Santee “was one of those guys who brought a lot of life to the place.... His whole goal here was to make sure we were taken care of. That was the kind of guy he was: always up, always happy, making sure our needs were being taken care of ahead of his.”

Santee worked mostly as a go-fer, helping firefighters, paramedics and their support staff with whatever work was needed. It was a way in the door, Yoder said, but Santee made it more than that.

His joy for his work spread to those around him: “He had an infectious smile, and a great positive attitude,” Yoder said.

Santee’s mother said he decided to enlist in the military after he attended the funeral of a Marine and family friend, Jeffrey Starr, who was killed by a sniper in Iraq in 2005. Starr was a couple of years older than Santee, but had long been an inspiration to him.

“They were like-minded spirits,” Cathy Santee said. “He wanted to take over where Jeff left off. Everyone asked him to wait, and he did, but nothing would deter him. His heart was set.”

Santee enlisted 10 months ago, with the guarantee that he would become a military policeman; in order to secure that position, he agreed to tack an extra year on to his service.

He distinguished himself in training as an accomplished marksman and was assigned to work as a gunner, providing security for military convoys.

As it turned out, Santee was in Iraq for fewer than seven weeks. His mother said he died in almost the same spot as his friend Starr.

In addition to his mother, Santee is survived by his father, Burton; his brother, Nathan, 24; and his sister, Laura, 22.

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cara.dimassa@latimes.com