A Visit with a Hero and Why United Air Sucks

So I paid a visit to Fort Knox this week to visit our wounded soldiers. The time spent at Knox was invaluable. I spent time with SSG M. from B CO. It nearly sent tears to my eyes. M. is a 27 year old Platoon Sergeant from WA. A substantial IED went off under his Cougar. Fortunately, he was the only one seriously injured. Unfortunately, he broke his right leg with a clean snap and broke the left in multiple places. His heel, foot, ankle, and leg were broken. He has screws in there holding it all together. It is not in a cast. When I saw him, he was getting off of the hardcore painkillers for fear of addiction and was in a world of hurt. A nurse came in and began to touch his foot and manipulate it. He was brave and never did cry but his agony was apparent as he groaned and cried out. He was grateful for the pain, he said, because it meant that he could still feel the foot and it meant things were working.

As we talked, I fond out that he had served an LDS mission out there in Kentucky. He found it ironic to be back under these circumstances. His wife had been out for the first few days and I made calls to get her sent back for some more time. He stated that it was getting depressing being cooped up in the room so we decided to get out of there. He was able to maneuver into his wheel chair a lot easier than I would have thought. We made our way downstairs and then outside. The day was beautiful. I sat on a bench and M. positioned his wheel chair along side it. We talked about anything and everything. He told me about how the treatment he received at Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in Germany had been pretty bad. Eventually he grew cold and we headed back in. I told him that I would send him some clothes as soon as I got back home. I have met a lot of men in my life but I can honestly say that there at Ireland Hospital, Fort Knox, Kentucky, I met a hero.

I looked up three of our other soldiers that were at Knox in outpatient status. SGT J. had a skin graft and had healed up nicely. He had just returned to Knox after spending time on convalescence leave at home and only had about a week left before he was going to be released. SPC W. had a break in his left leg with screws and rods. He, too had about a week left.

SPC M.,a female, worried me the most. She was there for severe depression and was quite lonely and down. She didn't want to get out of the Army and wasn't happy that she was going to be discharged. She thought her future looked bleak and it seemed to me that she also suffered agoraphobia. She had just returned from 30 days in a mental institute. While there she had broken her foot playing volley ball. She didn't look forward to the next 90 days of evaluations, medical boards and eventual discharge. I suggested she try and find a job there at Knox. In order to keep the patients gainfully employed and not idle, medical hold soldiers who can, find jobs on post. I thought it might be just what she needed. She disagreed and thought that she couldn't deal with people. She just wanted to sleep. I talked to her about the future and college. She didn't think she could handle that unless it was maybe at a very small community or two year college. I did my best to cheer her up and make her laugh but I left with the impression that any cheer I did bring her would be fleeting and short lived. I talked to SGT J. and asked him to look in on her during his last week and to spend some time with her. I worry about SPC M.

Before I made the 45 minute trek back to Louisville I took a few minutes to stop off at my old Basic Training company where I had gone through ROTC Basic Camp at. It looked a little different than how I remembered but did bring back a flood of memories. A Co 1/46th Infantry. There were the phone banks where I had called Shandy from. There was the First Sergeant's office where I had stood twice, being in a little bit of trouble for leaving my laundry in the dryer while we went off to training. The Supply Sergeant took me up to the second floor to my old bay. A few Privates were milling around inside. They said that they were securing some gear before they went off to training. I spotted my old bunk and told the Supply Sergeant how it used to be mine. "Look! That's where Lanear freaked out one night and we had to get the Drill Sergeants in here!" A young Private came up to me and said, "Sir, did you say that that was your bunk?" I said it was back in '96. He stated with a little reverence, "That's my bunk now, sir." I did a quick inspection and straightened the corners of the folds and gave him a nod. The doors opened and a Drill Sergeant walked in.

"WHAT ARE YOU PRIVATES DOING IN HERE?!?!?!"

"Uh,we're getting our gear, Drill Sergeant," they threw out, a little apprehensively.

"Sir, did they call the room to attention when you came in?"

"Negative, Drill Sergeant."

"GET DOWN!!!!!!!!"

I chuckled to myself as I left and walked past the privates busting out the push ups. Things had really come full circle since '96. Back then, I was getting smoked on a regular basis as I made the transition from civilian to Soldier. Now, Privates were getting smoked in the very same bay I used to get smoked in because they didn't call the room to attention when I walked in. Full circle indeed.

Later, I'll regale you with my tale of woe about how United Air Sucks.