Semper Fi: War from a Marines Eye
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Ill never forget the events that took place on a hot summer afternoon in the mountains of Afghanistan. My crew was assigned another mission to complete in what seemed like a never ending war. It was business as usual for us Marines. I had no idea this day would change my life forever.
It was a day so hot it would make the devil sigh. As we left the base, I remember saying to a fellow marine Ryan that we were going to kick the crap out of the other guys in a game of spades when we got to the base. Ryan and I shared a laugh as our convoy began to move. Traveling down a dusty old dirt road, I thought to myself “how could these town people all covered in black clothing be walking in this extreme heat?” We made it to the mountains where we began our security detail as we had so many times before. As the mountains bounced in the heat, we began to head back to base to end our day, having no idea of what lay ahead of us.
After about four hours in the hot sun we began the decent of the mountains. As we made a turn, I took a picture of the red sun descending behind the mountain tops. Ryan and I sat in the back of the Humvee, looking at the picture and talking about random things, when our convoy hit a roadside mine that blew off out front axle and sent our Humvee off the side of the mountain. I remember it felt like an eternity as we were falling. The whole incident only took seconds. Once we stopped falling, I remember yelling out to Ryan that I could not feel my legs. Ryan never answered my calls. As I lay there unable to move, I looked around to see that only one other man was near me. The man was a new Marine fresh out of basic named Steven Bryant. Looking over at me Steve said shivering, “Be strong, Devil Dog. Were going to make it out of here.” The last thing I remember was a call coming in over the radio saying that we had been hit and were in need of help. I tried to stay conscious, but I was fading fast.
As I opened my eyes for the first time, I saw a young blonde woman standing over me. I was in an army hospital in Kabul. The woman before me was an Army medic. I remember asking her what happened to Ryan. The woman placed her hand on my shoulder and told me that Ryan had been K.I.A. (Killed in Action). The news of his demise hurt me so bad that I began to cry. The next day, I attempted to get up to go to the bathroom; however, my legs would not move. I yelled for the doctor. I told him that I could not move my legs. He then explained that I was in an accident and that there was a chance that I would not be able to walk again. Two days later I was aboard a plane headed to Washington D.C.
I arrived at the Walter Reed hospital in D.C., thinking the worst. Here I would go through the hardest three and a half months of rehab. By the time I started my rehab I had regained some sensation in my legs; however, I still could not move them. I underwent two weeks of x-rays and poking and probing