Walter Reed Army Medical Center

July 4th 2007

I spent my day with three other volunteers at Walter Reed visiting wounded soldiers and delivering about 75 hand made tote bags filled with bibles, books, cd's dvd's, gift cards and other creature comforts assembled by some very generous people at Bay Area Community Church in Annapolis--and toiletry kits assembled by the kids at the Severna Park Middle School Lions Club. It was an experience to say the least--it shook me up and changed my perspective. Some of the soldiers were fresh from the field, some had been there for months and have a long road ahead. Most were missing arms and legs, some missing parts of their face, all were gracious polite and thankful for some warm conversation and a diversion from the usual.

I talked for a long while with a Special Forces soldier who had an RPG come through the windshield of his vehicle. He was operating a 50 cal. machine gun when he was hit in in the upper right thigh, severing his femoral artery. This soldier kept shooting and took care of the enemy who fired the RPG, then collapsed and nearly died. He is looking forward to healing so he can return to his team and finish business--it's his third tour and he loves his job.

I also met a young man who was hit with an IED in the chest. He had a broken jaw and a feeding tube, so he could not speak, but his eye contact did all the talking necessary. His fiancee was in the room when I brought in the bag of goods, he was glad to see some company. As I was talking and saying thank you, he reached out his hand and grabbed my hand--a warm strong grip that didn't want to let go. He held on for a long time and maintained strong eye contact as he teared up, I was already crying... still he did not let go. This young man had just received a purple heart the day before by President Bush who visited Walter Reed. I said I didn't have a medal, but had some Girl Scout Cookies for when he could eat again. He let go of my hand and gave me the tumbs up for the cookies, and we said goodbye--

I met a young beautiful woman named Monique who was hit in her right temple by AK 47 sniper fire, I asked what she was doing when she was hit and she said she was just walking to her room. She said she gets terrible headaches and has double vision, but thanks the Lord she is alive to talk about it. The bullet ripped through part of her brain, and she will be staying at Walter Reed for a while as she receives therapy for the TBI (Traumatic Brain Injury).

I met another young man who was out in the sunshine for the first time with his mom pushing his wheelchair. He said he was hit by sniper fire, the bullet entered his right chest, tore through his intestines and broke his femur before stopping in his left thigh. He pulled up the leg of his shorts to show us the bullet--he was proud it was visible, but said it was quite itchy.

The last young soldier I met for the day touched me the most. He was walking down a path outside and I noticed that the lower half of his face was distorted, some of it missing. He had a large scar running from below one ear, across his neck to the collar bone. He had most of his upper lip, but it looked like the lower had been re-created from skin from another area, it looked like most of his teeth and palate were missing. He stopped when I offered him a handshake and a bag of goodies, said "thank you ma'am" and he wished me a happy July 4th.

I wanted to share my day with you to remind you how blessed we are to live in this country, how young men and women are fighting hard for us in Iraq and Afghanistan, so we don't have to fight this enemy on our own turf. What you see on the evening news is a distortion of reality--if you want the truth go spend some time with a soldier who just left the fight. All of them wanted to return to duty and wanted to finish the job they started. The next time you drive down the road and see a yellow "Support the Troops" ribbon magnet on car bumper--let it be a reminder to pray for the soldiers fighting to keep us safe from an RPG coming through the windshield of our family car here on U.S. soil.