In July 2006, I enlisted in the United States Army as a heavy-wheeled vehicle operator. Choosing the military wasn’t my first option. Initially, I wanted to go to school to become a mechanic. I enjoyed working on vehicles. With my poor academic background, I lacked the confidence to return to school. Just the sheer thought made my body tremble. Unsure of what path to take. The military seemed to be a more suitable option. Firstly, I wanted to enlist as an infantryman, working my way into Special Forces. I thought the hell with it. I’m going to go in and become a badass. My mother wasn’t thrilled with that idea. She convinced me to pick a skill I could use outside the military. The experience that I will attain would transfer over to civilian life.
Rethinking my approach to the path that I was going to take, I realized what my mom said didn’t sound like a bad idea. I studied like crazy for the ASVAB test, still struggling with my test anxiety. I had to take it three times until I scored high enough to get a job as a truck driver. A couple weeks later, with my bags packed, I shipped out to Ft Jackson, South Carolina, where I would embark on my journey into the world. Boot camp is nine grueling weeks of intensive, basic combat training. Upon graduating from basic training, the Army sent me to Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri, where I would attend my AIT training for my chosen job. Learning to operate some of the military’s trucks was not as easy as I thought, it gave me a whole new level of challenges. Learning how to articulate the trailers, on which way to turn the wheels to make the trailer go left or right. Little did I know at the time I needed to learn this. Getting out of my comfort zone was the only way I could grow. If I hadn’t, I never would have learned how to back a trailer or drive these massive machines down a highway. Forced to fight against my own self-doubts like forces of nature with such authority. Finally, I realized the drill instructors weren’t trying to break us down. They were trying to get us to stop holding ourselves back and learn to tap into new and unexplored potential.
After graduation, I was given orders to report to my first duty station at Ft Richardson, Alaska. Wow, this is a beautiful place despite it being the middle of winter. I remember getting off the plane; the temperature outside was minus 18 degrees. This being a dry cold, it froze all moisture that came in contact with it. Little did I know my training in boot camp was a walk in the park compared to the training I was about to endure in this new, exciting place? My unit was placed on orders to Operation Iraqi Freedom.
In 2008, we deployed to Al Asad Airbase, Iraq, where we lived for the next 15 months. Driving over hostile territories delivering supplies and fuel. Now and then, we would encounter the enemy forces. They would pop off with some rounds. We were not too concerned with it because they rarely hit us. The primary threat was the IED “Improvised Explosive Device”. We thought to ourselves, this is where our training will be put to the test. What we didn’t count on was the reality check. The true test was reacting without hesitation in the heat of the moment. In the last three months, we encountered more assaults. I remember driving a recovery truck through Taji to Baghdad International. An IED hit the gun truck in front of me. The truck commander I had with me told the convoy commander what had happened over the radio. We made efforts trying to reach the disabled vehicle. Unable to make contact and with permission from the convoy commander, we proceeded on foot with another gun truck’s assistance to assess the severity of the three soldiers inside. I ran with my combat life savers bag to the truck’s door. Yelling out friendly so the occupant’s inside understood help has arrived. The door unlocked, and as I opened it, nothing could have prepared me for the nightmarish sight. I paused, taking a deep breath, and went to work. I attended to the gunner first; him being unresponsive and more severely injured but alive. I placed two tourniquets on each leg to control the bleeding. Pack gauze around each wound and then wrap it with an Israeli bandage. Then, I ran an IV to get a better reading on his pulse. Talking with the driver and Truck Commander to assess their injuries. Fortunately, they had a few lacerations due to the shrapnel and were concussed by the blast. The other truck let us know there was a medevac en route. That day, a soldier’s life dramatically changed into a double amputee. Later on, we learned his fiancé was in that convoy. Having to hear everything over the radio. She held herself together very well until we made it to base. The training we go through is designed to prepare us for the rigors of combat to defend and save lives. It doesn’t prepare us for the mental anguish we would endure after returning to the United States.
Subconsciously, we brought back the war within ourselves. Every soldier deals with a similar battle. Fighting it in their way. The families felt the brunt of it. Husbands, wives, daughters, brothers, mothers, and fathers. Now we all are dealing with a new conflict buried deep within the soul. Most would drink excessive amounts of alcohol to try and numb the pain. This would only cause the subconscious battlefield to burn hotter and roar like a volcano. Erupting in unstable chaos throughout the mind and body. This leading to unexpected physical and emotional changes. My wife had to watch me go through these unpleasant experiences. I was a changed man. We all were. Nothing would ever be the same. I started having intense panic attacks shortly after. Evolving into a deep state of depression. I didn’t like what was happening. Swallowing my pride, I accepted the fact that I needed help. I told my chain of command what was going on. I discovered I wasn’t alone, and others were experiencing the same problem. I felt a little relief. They told me it’s widespread. My squad leader took me to a behavioral health clinic so I could talk with a psychologist. She told me I had all the Post Traumatic Stress Disorder characteristics. Not all scars are on the outside. This was the beginning of what was months to years of therapy. I still had years left in the military contract and another deployment on approach. I wondered if this fight would ever end. All I knew was I wasn’t going to back down. I would eventually overcome this obstacle. Not all wounds are visible. Some of the deepest cuts are internal, and people dealing with anxiety, depression, and PTSD don’t have to fight alone.
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