The Phone Call

He was hard and tough and wiry- just the sort that won't say die

There was courage in his quick, impatient tread

And he bore the badge of gameness in his bright and fiery eye

And the proud and lofty carriage of his head

As the ketamine slowly wore off, I lay there in my hospital bed.  My mind moved in a figure eight motion trying to ascertain what was real and what was nightmare.  The last conscious memory I had was holding my friend Bryson's hand and telling him, "I'll be damned if my family finds out from some idiot at DA (department of the Army).  Get ahold of my family and tell them i'm ok."  But, did this really happen?  Am I actually still alive?  I surveyed my body.  A huge bulky dressing over my right leg and foot, a wound vacuum attached to my right foot to prevent infection, and bandages all along my right thigh that stung. I looked across the ICU room and noticed a nurse behind a desk.  She looked as though she was in her late 50's wearing a Navy uniform and the rank of Major.  As soon as I noticed her i think she realized I was just now coming to the epiphany that my life was forever changed.  She walked over and in a soft southern draw said, "Hey soldier, you wanna call home?"  

During the week it is not uncommon for my Mom to stay up until 12 or 1 am, doing editing for math or tirelessly scouring the news articles from Afghanistan.  It was a normal routine for her.  Her son Sean had just returned from being deployed from July 2009 until August 2010, and now her son Kyle had been deployed since May 2010.  However, on the weekends my parents usually went to bed fairly early.  Catching the end of a Red Sox game and calling it a night.  My Mom's fear since having children was receiving a late night or early morning phone call regarding one of her children, maybe being involved in a car accident or being hurt some how.  So as the phone rang at 3:00 AM her mind instantly went to her two sons, Sean and Robby, who had just attended the Army vs. Duke football game in Durham earlier that day.  She answered, "Hello?"  I said, "Hi, mom,"  and broke down for the first time since the attack five hours earlier.  Everything hit me at once.  I could feel the pressure plate compressing as it launched me into the air, the screams of my section leader as he feared me dead, the total sadness of leaving my men without their leader on a crucial mission, and the total consciousness of knowing my happy go lucky life was forever different.  Tears fell down my face and I remember being embarrassed as the two other badly injured soldiers in my ICU ward, looked over at me.  In reflection, they knew, they had made this phone call probably hours or minutes prior.  

I tried to find the words to say.  I had not spoken to my parents verbally in three weeks.  My Mom was wide awake now, and as most of the older generation does, put me on speaker phone and shoved my Dad to wake up.  She said, "Oh Kyle, what happened?"  I believe she at first thought I was calling to announce one of my friends had been killed, as had been the case weeks earlier.  I tried clearing my throat and croaked out, "I stepped on an IED Mom, im hurt, but im ok."  The tone of the conversation instantly changed, I could hear my Mom step away from the phone and sensed her silence.  From knowing my parents for so long, I could tell my Mom was giving my Dad the look of, "Say something Scott, find out more."  My Dad inquired, "What did you hurt?"  I said, "I broke every bone in my foot, maybe broke my leg," I again paused to regain my composure as I sulkily tried to convey to my parents what was going on, "And I have shrapnel lodged in my right thigh."  My Mom began to cry and my Dad tried to stay strong.  He posed one more command, not a question, but a command, "Come home Kyle."  I replied with the first glimmer of happiness that I had felt since the incident, "I am Dad, I am."

The bond that I shared with the twenty Soldiers on the battlefield, while immense, is no where near that that I have with my parents.  True American Heroes, my parents, both retired US Army Colonels, yes I said both, some people only catch the fact that my father is and do not realize that my Mom is as well. They understand the nature of service and selflessness to the country.  However, as my bond with my Soldiers does not surmount to that with my parents, my parents understanding of service does not surmount to the undying call to protecting their children.  My recovery process, while still on going, has been helped along immensely by this relationship, and I will never forget the phone call that night, mostly for the love and caring nature I heard in their voices.  Thank you all for taking time out of your lives to read what I have to say.