So far so good, life ain't great, but it's much improved. I really hope things keep going this way. Of course, knowing the way the universe works it's only a matter of time before something comes along and breaks it all down.

Current Mood: Hopeful

They operated in Baghdad and he's now recovering in a hospital in Germany. He's alert and has talked to some of his family and friends already. He's happy to be alive, and glad that he'll be back in the States in the next week or so. He's already had his first physical therapy session and is expected to make a full, if lengthy, recovery.

"Yeah, no problem."

We were on our way to pick up a few things from our compound; if we were gonna spend the rest of the week at 1st AD brigade HQ, we were sure as hell gonna have all our stuff. We were just gonna make a quick stop at the barracks then head over to Gunner Main where there was supposed to be some work for the EOD(Explosive Ordinance Disposal) guys we were escorting around.

As we were coming up towards River Road, I looked out at the street behind us pulling security from behind the .50 cal. I'd walked this road a hundred times so when it hit me, I couldn't understand what we could have driven under, what could have struck me so hard.

It took almost a full second to realize what had happened.

The smoke was all around us and there was no sound but the dull ringing in my head, all I could smell was the blood. I was doubled over the side of the turret and as I stared out into the gray haze that surrounded us, the fear and pain hit me like a second explosion. With each breath I screamed, the shrapnel inside me seared my muscles and my foot throbbed with pain. My tears were lost in the blood that poured down my face and clouded my vision. As I began to feel frantically around my throat for wounds, the voice of the vehicle's driver, platoon medic Matt Moss, pierced the silence.

"Get away from the vehicle!" He screamed. "Get away from the vehicle."

He was right, the gas tanks could go or someone could be waiting with an RPG for the haze to clear. I pulled myself out of the turret and rolled down onto the Humvee's hood. I could see out of my right eye now and the only thing I could still feel was the crushing pain in my left foot. While I lowered myself to the ground, onto my good foot, I looked through the missing windshield and saw Wise, still motionless in the passenger seat. His head was tilted back and his face was covered in blood.

"Oh no, Wise!" I shouted, as Matt ran to the side of the vehicle.

"Help me move him," he shouted, "Come on, help me get Wise!" His voice was edged with panic but he moved with the steady deliberation of a man concerned only with his duty.

"I can't," I yelled through a mouthful of blood, "I think my foot's broken." But it didn't matter, the guys from the other humvee had already run back to our vehicle. They helped Matt pull Wise out and lower him to the ground.

As I hopped off to the side of the road and sat down, I realized that my foot was not only broken but pouring a steady stream of blood from the left side. Through gritted teeth and shouts of pain I unlaced my boot and pulled it off. The smelll of burnt flesh hit me instantly as I looked down at my foot. The left side of my sock was entirely soaked and dripping with blood but the right side was a large charred patch of indistinguishable skin, sock and shrapnel.

"I'm going to lose my foot" I thought between shouts of anger and pain. "I'm never going to skate again."

"Come on Wise, Breathe!" Matt's voice broke through my self absorbed agony. "God Dammnit, breathe, you're not going to die here!"

How could I be so obsessed with my own pain, I shouldn't be worried about my foot while one of my best friends is dying a few feet away from me... But it hurt so bad.

"Oh God, Wise, Ahhhh, my foot." I yelled and craned my neck to try and see them working on Wise behind me but I could only see his feet for all the people around him.

Now the QRF was starting to arrive from the compound. They secured the area and after about ten agonizing minutes of pain and uncertainty. Wise and I were loaded onto a Blackhawk and evac'd to the hospital at the palace. They'd gotten him breathing again, they said he was gonna be okay.

At the hospital they gave me morphine. It didn't do much for the pain, but Wise was gonna be okay and once the doctor pulled the piece of shrapnel out, he said I wasn't gonna lose my foot. I was in a good mood. Maybe it was just the drugs but I knew I was gonna be okay and I was in good spirits. The doctors put me under for surgery. They cleaned out my wound, and cut away the dead, burned tissue. When I woke up, I didn't feel any pain, a General came and saw me and gave me a 1st AD brigade coin, I was gonna be back in the states in a week, and then I found out that the guy I'd spent the last 9 months getting to know better than almost anyone else, died of massive head trauma while I was in surgery.

Wise will be buried at Arlington National Cemetery next week.

But the seconds pass and I don't wake up to anything but sterile sheets and pain.

Current Mood: Mournful

From Emmy

Grace that taught my heart to fear.....

The memorial was amazing. Tammy Wise is one of the most impressive people I've ever had the privilege to encounter. I wish I had the full text of the speech she gave (yes, she stood up at the funeral of her child and gave a speech, and a calm and moving one at that). She never lost composure, she never broke down. She told funny stories from Robert's childhood and read a letter from another member of the unit detailing his last moments. She said that Robert always wanted to be a big brother, that he died doing what a big brother does, and that she didn't doubt he'd do it again. She thanked Doc Moss and Trueman for being there and behaving with collection. And then she said what everyone in that room so, so badly needed to hear. She said that those of us waiting for others in their unit shouldn't feel guilty for being grateful that it was not their loved ones, and she said that she had lost a son in Robert, but gained many sons in Alpha Company.

I cried like a baby.

I can never thank her son for saving the life of someone so dear to me. And I cannot thank his mother enough for the peace she thought to give the rest of us even in her own grief. She was truly magnificent. Trueman always said that Robert was deeply, deeply devoted to his mother, that no one could mention her even in jest without angering him.

It's not hard to see why.

 
On one wall of the armory was projected a slideshow of pictures of Robert, both growing up and from the war. They opened the service with Amazing Grace. When it came to the third verse "... and Grace will lead us home...", the photo on the screen faded into one of Robert playing cards with Trueman and Scott between their cots. Then to one of Scott and David with their arms around Robert. And on and on, images of Robert grinning with the other guys in the unit.

Robert and Trueman are home now. I wish I could say I believed it was grace that brought them here, but I don't know that. I simply don't understand how it could be grace in Robert's case. But I don't understand many things, and I'm not above asking for grace.

Please, please lead them home.

One Last Goodbye

In the dream, I was still in Baghdad, except everything was clean and white like the hospital, the guys were here and there, doing various things, some were seated near by watching TV. As I stood there, I saw Wise approaching from down a long hallway. He stopped near me and took off his gear, dropping it into a heap alongside everyone else's.

"You're alive," I exclaimed.

"Yeah," he responded evenly, "Do you know when we go on guard next?"

Suddenly, my heart sank as I realized I was dreaming, I grabbed him in a heartfelt hug and said something most guys don't want to say to one another, at least, not until it's too late: "I love you Wise."

And with that, the dream was over.

I awoke feeling sad, but somehow, a little better as well. Those probably aren't the exact words I would have chosen for a real goodbye but Wise knows I'm not good when I'm put on the spot, I'm sure he understands.