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TwitThisTremendous Guilt
He started talking. He told me of the closeness of his unit and of his tremendous guilt about being home while they still fought in Iraq. He told stories of literal hand-to-hand combat, of the day he killed a man with his Ka-Bar knife when he was too close to use his rifle. He described the day he was shot.“We were on the roof of a building. I was standing next to my lieutenant. I don’t really know what happened—just this huge impact. And I fell.”
“Off the top of the building?” I asked.
“Yes, ma’am. And a bunch of rubble fell on me, and I was pinned. My rifle dropped away during the fall, and when I could see through the dust, I realized I was stuck and couldn’t reach it. I couldn’t actually see the bad guys, but I knew they’d be coming soon.”
I stared. “What happened?”
“I yelled up to my platoon to get their asses down there, and they yelled back for me to hold tight. It was pretty damn scary, ma’am. Pardon my language.”
“No problem. So obviously they got down to you.”
“Yeah, they did. You know what’s amazing? You know the body armor we wear? It stopped two AK-47 slugs. They’re actually stuck in the plate. I asked if I could have it back. They said I could.”
“That is amazing.” I made a note to go back to that story another time.
I noticed that the corporal’s skin was graying, that beads of sweat were forming on his forehead. “Anyway, I guess I passed out,” he continued, “because the next thing I remember was the hospital.”
“No damage to your spinal cord?” I asked. “After a fall and having something fall on you that was heavy enough to actually pin you?”
“That’s what the MRI says, ma’am. See for yourself. Says my back, legs, neck—everything—are fine. Guess it’s just my head that needs help.”
“You know, combat can be really traumatic,” I said. “People who have been through it sometimes experience a slow recovery from that trauma. It’s normal.”
“Yeah, but most of them don’t end up in a wheelchair, do they, ma’am?” He smirked at me. “I figure my body is trying to tell me something. And now it’s up to you to figure out what it is.”
I smiled at him, stood up, shook his hand and held the door open for the wheelchair. “Actually, that’s up to you. I’m just here to watch it happen.”
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