A Year Later

As I laid in the hospital bed in Germany, I thought to myself, "I wonder what my life is going to be like now."  I wonder what things will be the same, what things will be different, and the kind of person I am or will become.  As I laid there a nurse came in and started preparing the bed across from me for a new patient to come in.  Five minutes later the new patient was carried in on a stretcher and they put him on the bed.  It was an 18 year old soldier who had been involved in an IED blast.  He looked like two face from Batman. His entire right side of his face was burned and peppered with shrapnel.  The nurses set him up in the bed and then left the room.  It was just him and I now.  He started to cry.  I said, "Are you ok buddy?  Can I help you with something?"  With tears in his eyes he replied, "Im 18 years old man.  Look at my face.  Who is ever going to want to be with me now?  Im a freak.  Im only 18."

I have reflected a lot in the past couple of months on my experiences overseas and now being back at home.  I have written about my situation, my friends, my soldiers and random people I have come across.  I think it is common a year after a tragedy for people to reflect and comment on how better there life is now because they went through such a tragedy.  I would love to write a blog entry today about my perseverance and grit through this whole event.  I would love to write about how my life has actually gotten better since this incident occurred and how much I appreciate life now.  But, I pride myself on being authentic and an entry like that would not be authentic.  Yes there are certainly aspects of my life that have improved, but reflecting a year later, my life has on average gotten worse.

I walked up to Grant Hall to meet one of my classmates that now works in the admissions office.  I spotted him outside the door and standing next to him was the "Supe", head of USMA.  I walked up, saluted the three star general and said hello.  He began speaking to me about how he knew my family and my story and how proud he was of me.  He was half way into telling me about how the Academy was doing when another one of my classmates walked up.  This classmate had been severely injured in Afghanistan resulting in losing one of his legs.  The Supe stopped mid sentence and with no explanation walked away from me and over to this Soldier.  I stood there astonished, figuring he would come back and finish our conversation, he never did.  He talked to my classmate and motioned to an aid, "Hey get my camera out, I want to take a picture with this great Soldier."  I watched as the two took a picture together and then I slowly walked away.

This story may sound very trivial and in some ways it is.  Do I hold anyone responsible? No.  But it is a good vignette that signifies my struggle over the past year.  Since I was young I have always been fearful of not being respected.  I take everything in my life seriously and find it very difficult to brush off even the smallest of situations.  I have always been sensitive to the fact that people do not take my injury seriously.  To some this may sound crazy, "How could you not take it seriously?"  But in the world of wounded Soldiers my injury could be looked at on the minor side.  Whether it was the CW4 who told me, "Well it is just a foot injury."  Or my Battalion Commander never contacting me after my injury, I have constantly felt alone this past year.  I cant adequately describe the feeling of abandonment that this past year has caused me.  Its a sad realization when I sit down and think, "Maybe people would have cared more if I lost my leg."  Now this is no insult or anything to people that have.  I am sure they would be quick to tell me I am crazy and no I really don't wish that, but being authentic I would be lying if I said it didn't cross my mind.

There have been a lot of people who have been so supportive since I got back.  I don't want them to get lost in all this.  My friends that took time out of there R and R to call and check on me, or friends from school who would send me messages weekly just to make sure I was ok.  My family has been everything I could have ever wanted and more this past year.  But, if I am being honest, this past year has been terrible.  Yes with everything there were bright spots, but everyday is a struggle now.  I go back to that day every morning when I wake up and every night when I go to bed.  I go to that day with every step I take when my foot still doesn't move the same way.  I go to that day when its gorgeous outside and all I want to do is go for a long run and I cant.  Physically and emotionally nothing is the same.  My overall point is that far to often after a tragedy people feel an obligation to be positive about it when asked about it.  But the truth is its still a tragedy.  And maybe one day I will look back on this as a positive event in my life, but one year later it certainly has not been.

Looking to the past to learn for the future.

After I posted my blog yesterday I was torn over if it was a good idea or not.  On the one hand I feel like public knowledge of such a situation can not only be useful but influential.  On the other hand after all that has happened there really is not much good that can come from posting that.  I do however do not want the point of the post to be lost in all this.  My Mom called me last night and was none to happy with my post.  My Mom is a sweet mild tempered lady that I rarely ever see lose her cool.  She strongly believes that you should never put your fingers to a keyboard in anger.  I would like to share with you the message she sent in the email to me:

John 8:1 - 11 scribes and Pharisees had caught a woman in the act of adultery (the woman commonly referred to as the prostitute) and told Jesus who was teaching in the temple that the Mosaic Law required she be stoned to death. Trying to make an opportunity of this to trick Jesus that they might accuse Him, they, with stones in hand, asked Jesus what He says about the Law. After Jesus tried to ignore their repeated questioning, He told them "He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her." One by one each man dropped his stone and walked away.

Jesus was not arguing with the judgment. Nor was Jesus arguing the law nor the woman's guilt. Jesus was arguing with our right to execute the woman. Once all the men had dropped their stones Jesus confronted the woman and asked her if any of the men were still there to condemn her. When she answered "No man, Lord", Jesus told her that neither did He - He forgave her of her sin. He did not excuse the sin of adultery/prostitution, he forgave her of it. All behavior and thought that is sinful before forgiveness is still sinful after forgiveness. Not only was Jesus not afraid to call a sin a sin, He was not afraid to call a sinner a sinner. He even reminded her of the sin of adultery/prostitution by telling her "Go and sin no more."  (in other words: he told her what he thought and then he let it go)

 I was raised Catholic, but will be the first one to admit that I have not kept up with my faith.  This message really spoke to me and ultimately caused me to take down my message.  While I am still angry about what happened, I certainly do not act without fault myself.  Not to be lost in all this is still the ultimate point: take responsibility for your actions.  I still strongly believe that relationships are gained or destroyed based on this point.  With all my blog posts I attempt to reflect on my issues and hopefully help someone out there that may be experiencing something similar.  The line that resonates with me the most from this entire passage is: "All behavior and thought that is sinful before forgiveness is still sinful after forgiveness."  

Thank you for reading. 

1LT Todd Weaver 101st Abn (AASLT) 2ND BN 502NDINF REG KIA 09 SEPTEMBER 2010

Since I have been blogging more constantly lately, I knew that eventually this day would come.  They day that I would have to explain to all my readers why I am the way I am.  Sure my parents, teachers and mentors helped mold me to who i am, but those are minute examples compared to how my life has changed in the past year.  Maturity is an interesting word.  People who have it, know it, and those that don't tend to attribute some form of themselves to having it.  Ie.  I am mature when I am at work, or I am mature around a lower ranker soldier. Maturity is one of the most inflated human words that I know.  Ask a man, "how mature are you."  surely the response will center around an insight or two to gain your trust and then leave with a , "Well to be honest I think i am more mature than the people I meet."  People inherently do not want to be immature.  So in any situation where a person doesn't want to be perceived a certain way, you can lie.

I myself always considered myself a mature young man, who understood the social norms and cultural nuances.  I was a college graduate of a distinct university and a leader amongst men.  Oh course I was mature.  But on September 9, 2010 my total incompetence in this field was realized and my world was crushed.

The Battalion Commander ended the briefing with a "oh and" something that always signifies an additional assignment and actually more interesting than any other part of the mission.  He said, " Brigade has asked for two Ranger qualified platoon leaders to move over to our field artillery units in the Arghndab River Valley, to take over platoons. "   Our field artillery unit there was having severe issues at the soldier and leader level.  Men going on patrol in tennis shoes, no body armor on, un armed, crazyness.  After the meeting the battalion commander walked off, and without asking his commanding officer Jake Ivey and Todd Weaver made a b line for the Battalion Commander.  They volunteered themmselves for this new and quite frankly more dangerous session. Stop, go back, understand.  They VOLUNTEERED to go on this mission, not because they were war junkies, but because they saw soldiers in need of leadership guidance.

48 hours later Todd and Jake were loaded on a helicopter.  My two best friends, that had been sleeping in the bed next to me for the past 3 months were now about to leave and I was not sure when I would see them again.  I shook there hands and they flew off into the dessert.  I thought nothing of it, just happy they had gotten to lead soldiers again in combat and walked away.

We rarely heard from them for the next month, and tried to send them supplies when we could.  I would frequently check updates on the computer just to ensure Todd and Jake were safe.  I knew they were involved in some serious fighting but still going hard.  I talked to Emma a couple of times online trying to encourage her how low the danger level was.

2300 US eastern time 0730 Kandahar time September 9, 2010
A morning patrol had been sent out from the FOB and LT Weaver was at the lead.  As always he was showing the soldiers how to more properly do there job.  He had an air about him that encouraged learning.  He rairly belittled a soldier or made them feel unappreciated.  Todd's complete leadership philosophy can be summed up into one phrase, "Lead from the front"  Todd was ultra competitive and wanted to be the best at everything.  Given this, he had to be the best at everything and lead from the front for his men.

The platoon he took over was still trying to learn how to run through normal raid and ambush operations on the morning of the 9th.  1LT Weaver as he did on multiple patrols moved forward to see what the hold up was.  He solved the situation and decided ok, ill stay up here to help you guys out.  1LT Weaver, the senior most ranking soldier in the platoon, was now running point aka lead man.  He was going to set in a gun position to cut off the Taliban from fixing coordinated attacks in a known area.  As he stepped forward to clear the area, he stepped on a massive IED that sent his body into the air.  In fact there is a disgusting youtube video that was taken after this accident where all his men are in a circle weeping from his loss. Weeping, grown men, 5 or 6 of them openly crying on the battlefield over the loss of there great commander. I cant believe someone would tape that.  Mixed reports began to flood in about what was going on, the first one said we have a triple amputee and he needs help soon.  The next report transitioned to we have an american hero on the ground her (aka dead us soldier).  I was not there so I have no clue how exactly Todd passed away, yes I know the pressure plate and the tiny details but the others have been lost.

When I was told about this at my FOB some 20 miles away, I literally went into shock.  I lost control of all my bodily functions and tears ran down my face uncontrollably.  I walked to the company TOC to meet Bryson, the whole way having to wipe tears from my eyes.  I remember being like a four year old who was crying so hard he couldnt breath.  I was torn apart and couldnt comprehend the knowledege that had just been told to me.  Bryson and I had worked with Todd for almost two years at this point.  We embraced in a tear full hug and then heard pop shots over the wall.  We grabbed our weapons, ran up, and searched for any thing remotely suspicious to take our sadness and anger out on.  We saw nothing, fell back to the TOC, and in a tear full embrace, got lost for a minute or hour or two.

Todd went to William and Mary, was a cowboys fan and loved life in America.  I am single but i have seen a lot of young couples interact.  Todd loved his little daughter Kiley and loved his wife Emma so much.  He loved his job so much, he was willing to volunteer to taken on a second leadership roll in the worst part of the country to help out a fellow unit.  It was his second deployment, as an enlisted soldier he was in Iraq for a while.  Funny story of during his R and R he ran out in a pouring rainstorm to kiss Emma and the rest is history.  The man made minimal mistakes and was hardfast in his decision making, but all that aside his best attribute was how much he cared, about his job and about people.

I still think about Todd everyday.  I cry from day to day when I think about the idea that I will never see my friend again.  I cry thinking about how Kiley will barely have ever known her Dad.  And I cry because id do anything to change what happened.  There is no question, Todd was ten times the Man that I was or may ever be.  I would gladly trade with him if it allowed the betterment of his family and his daughter.

This week, admits all the 9/11 celebrations please think about Todd Weaver who passed away today September 9, 2010 in Kandahar.  He was an incredible husband, father, and a great friend.  My only regret is that more people in this world never got to know the truly incredible guy he was.  I love you Todd.

The things that never come off me

When I was a kid my Mom used to buy me watches in order to keep track of time.  I would say somewhere around the 6th grade my Mom stopped this practice because it was becoming way to expensive and unpractical.  Not that my family did not have enough money to pay for a new watch, but I could never keep track of one for longer than a week before it magically disappeared.  I have extremely sensitive skin and hate to have things around my wrists or wear chains around my neck.  As a kid I would just take them off when they were uncomfortable and they would end up somewhere, I like to blame the nasty laundry gnomes.  You know the guys that steal that other sock out of the dryer.  I often think of why I was so forgetful with these things, and I guess I attribute it to lack of caring for the object.  Telling time was unimportant to me as a child and sporting some new chain was equally as unimportant.  However, as an adult now there are two objects that are never removed from my body at all times.  I wear them in the shower, I wear them when I work out, and one of them I was wearing while I was blown up.  Id like to share with you the story of my two priceless objects.

My family has an interesting tradition on Christmas Eve.  All seven of us pile into the van and drive over to 5 pm mass, promptly followed by a Christmas party at my dad's friend Mike's Christmas Party, and then back to the house where each kid is allowed to open one gift from a family member.  This is usually followed by somewhat childish excessive drinking and Sportscenters year in replay show, great show.  As I sat there deciding which gift to open on the night before Christmas, I decided to go with what my Mom had given me.  She handed me a small package, neatly wrapped like all Moms do, and I pulled the paper away.  Inside was a silver chain and two medallions.  The first medallion was the sign of St. Michael the patron saint of Soldiers.  I had just graduated West Point in May and I think my Mom knew that I needed some strength.  The second medallion was of two hands crossed in prayer, on the back read the serenity prayer.  I put it on over my head and said thank you Mom.

"God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference."

As I laid there on the Battalion Aid table my world was coming in and out.  It seemed like 15 people must have been shining lights in my eyes and the PA was prodding and bending my foot causing excruciating pain.  My best friend Bryson came running into the building out of breath.  They were now putting an oxygen mask over my face trying to calm me down from the shock.  They were cutting off all my clothing to expose the shrapnel wounds and make sure I wasnt hit in other places as well.  After cutting off all my clothing they reached for my necklace with the two medallions, I grabbed the medics hand, pulled my mask off and said, "No, that stays."  He nodded to me and went back to work on my leg.  I laid in bed after making the flight from KAF to Germany, and I felt more alone than ever before.  But my St. Michael's medallion kept me company and my serenity prayer calmed me down.  I fiddled with them in my hand for five days until they finally sent me back to the states, no one was going to take that off me, no matter how messed up I was.  

The second object that never leaves my body, is relatively new.  For those of you who are not in the military or unaware of our traditions, one of the most cherished is our "In honor of" bracelets.  If you are ever out and see someone who is wearing a black bracelet, either on the right or left wrist, it symbolizes the loss of a friend and Soldier.  My bracelet was made this past December, never comes off my wrist.   The bracelet reads simply: "1LT Todd Weaver 101st ABN (AASLT) 2ND BN 502ND INF REG KIA 09 SEP 2010"  Its a daily reminder of the sacrifice that my friend made.  I never take it off and at the same time I wish I never had to wear it.  Not in the sense that I do not wear it with pride, I would just rather have my friend here than immortalized in a bracelet.  The best part about the bracelet is the opportunity it provides.  It provides me the opportunity to share with other the incredible story of Todd. Quite often someone will see it and say unknowingly, "Hey cool bracelet, what is it?" I then tell them about my friend and his incredible heroism and leadership.  If you are ever out at a bar or restaurant, on the subway or buss, and you see one of  these, go up to the person and simply say, "Tell me about your friend?"  It may hurt for them to do, but they want to tell you and they want to share the story of the ultimate sacrifice.

Thank you all, and god bless. 

Overcome with Emotions Part 1

g

 Im about to go to bed on the night of the 5th and I am overcome with emotions.  It has become cultural, in my opinion, to describe sadness as "emotions".  There is no negative connotation with emotions, but with sadness, certainly through expression, people conclude that something must be wrong with you as an individual.  I am sad tonight.  This sadness has been building up over the past 361 days and it hit me tonight.  The most influential experience in my life thus far has had nothing to do with me blowing up and being injured.  This next week, this set of emotions and how I sift through them, they will far off define the most "influential experience" of my life.  With the cliche mention of 9/11 coming up, I will submit to you that through my 25 years of my life, this certainly will be the worst week of my life.  I am still an immature, unfound person searching for what it is  I am....who I have become....and what to do next.  See everyone points to 9/11 when there life infinitely changed, but for me that wasnt the case.  I always wanted to be in the army, war or not, my life changed on 9/9.  September 9, 2010.  That was the September day that my life changed.  Certainly 911, put a mark on me but a mere scrape compared to the piece of me that is now gone after September 9, 2010.  Throughout my life I have realized that sleep is the one point in a mans life where they consciously reflect : "should have taken i91 instead of i84, should have called her, should have done more for my mom......"  Past what most individuals reflect on I want to share with you my raw totally uncut mind chatter is as I lay down to bed on September 4, 2011

So as I lay down the following thoughts go through my mind:

"Is the door locked?  Yes but it can be broken.  Are the windows locked? Yes but they have access in.  What is the threat? some crazy guy off the street to break in on me.  Aside form the locks, keys, cameras, who is there to help me?  no one but the probability is low of attack.  But woah attack? Thats a harsh word, if there is 2% chance of an "attack" do I sleep it off logically or as a combat leader do I fully understand that 2% is 2% and stand on edge at all times. "

I juggle with this every night.  I check every door and window in my apartment twice before I sleep.  For me, I will never be snuck up on again.  The last time I allowed someone to dictate what I was doing I was blown up and nearly sent home in a body bag.  My friend, my best friend, had done the same thing 09/9 and didnt not fair as lucky as I was.  See what civilians dont understand about soldiers is that the danger is always there to us.  Its the reason I shook my mom this weekend when she tried to wake me up out of a dead sleep.

Risk falls from 0 percent to 100 percent; I worked in math and I understand that.  But actual risk and perceived risk are totally different.  War tends to warp you into a realm of perceived risk, sometime correlated to the phrase of "being on edge".  Being on Edge can be defined as an individual who always think something wrong is preceding the future.  War warps an individuals ability to perceive risk.  Soldiers go two ways on this: one soldier risks everything upon return because he is a risk junky and the other soldier shades from all risks and those risks run his world.

I am the latter.  I have yet to have a good nights sleep since I returned home 11 months and a day home.  No door can withstand a breakthrough, no firescape window can be bullet proff, if someone wanted me they could get to me.  All humans understand this and apply some risk factor towards the probability of it actually happening. Given that there is only a 1.5 percent chance your apartment is borken into, you should feel very safe on all occasions.  To a soldier coming home from overseas, that 1.5 percent is enough to keep them all night waiting.  Something moves out of place, some house toy makes too loud of a noise, or maybe a premonition in a dream and I am wide awake, add 30 minutes until I fall asleep again.  I am 25 years old and I can not sleep without the TV on and a close light at my hand because of the fear.  Of all the scenarios, I can not put myself in a place where I may get flanked or snuck up on; and it dominates my thoughts.  My bed lies in the corner of the room, not the center to prevent space on each side.  My door is triple locked and I sleep facing every entrance to ensure not being snuck up on.  I wake up 8-12 times a night, consciously begging myself not to close my eyes again.  I fight my subconscious on what is real or made up in my dreams.

This my friends is an inside look to the mental outlook of a man who has seen and been through more than his 24 year old brain can comprehend.  This week I will truly honor my best friend Todd Weaver who passed away September 9, 2010 , I will be stronger man and face my social fears and be confident that you are watching over me.  I love you bro

The road back from being at War is one that needs to be talked about.  And people need to understand how soldiers, including myself, can not sleep after they get back.  Because they levity of the situation they have encored is so big that it dominates there sleep.  Reflection is very hard:  I will reflect on 1LT Todd Weaver all week long until Friday, dont just read my blog, be a player, I actually assign those that want an assignment to reflect on the stories of Todd I will show this week and really take not just 9/11 but Tood Weaver, if you learn only one more thing about Todd this whole week than I can rest knowing I did well in this endeavor.