From One Purple Heart To Another

All Bryan Anderson wants for the loss of his limbs, is a house for his friend that works.

Tony and Joedi live in paradise, but their home has become anything but a relaxing, or safe, place to be. Window frames are rotting through. Stairs are falling apart. The septic tank has collapsed one too many times. But it is still a home to SSG Tony Wood, his wife Joedi, and twelve beautiful kids. The house is not the only thing that has been damaged. Tony is a Purple Heart recipient from Operation Iraqi Freedom 2005.
Now back to the twelve children. Two of their children are biological. The other ten are fostered or adopted. Tony and Joedi live in Hawaii and have been fostering children since 1987. Married for twenty-six years, it seems a key to their lasting marriage has been the common goal of giving to others who did not have a home to call their own. Joedi's full time position is as a mother to all.

Two months after Tony was injured in Iraq, another member of his team - and his best friend  - Bryan Anderson was seriously injured when the Humvee he was driving rolled over an IED. The explosion severed off both of his legs, his left arm, and parts of his right hand. It was Tony's face he saw when he opened his eyes at Walter Reed Army Medical Center. It is Tony's family he would like to help by creating a coalition to rebuild the Wood family home.

 
Bryan says, "If anything good can come out of all of this, there's only one thing I wish could happen. I want Tony to have a home that he deserves." As a triple amputee, Bryan now travels the country in support of various charities, a most personal one being The Gary Sinise Foundation.

Bryan and Our Daughter EmmaUpon relocating to California this month, Bryan stayed with our family in Santa Clarita until his new apartment was ready. His passion for wanting to help the Wood family was contagious and we immediately began brainstorming. I called my friend JD Kennedy (former head of Veterans Affairs for our district's congressional office) - who was just 18 days away from Election Day- and by the next day we were in our living room along with Jeri Goldman of Santa Clarita Valley's KHTS Hometown Station and SCV Habitat For Heroes, and the Wood family home reconstruction project was born.

A MESSAGE FROM BRYAN

When I first met Tony, he had just re-classed as an MP from Infantry. I love meeting new people and like to think I have a pretty good judge of character. Not only was Tony one of “the good guys”, his sense of humor was razor-sharp. He was the kind of leader that had you laughing your ass of one minute, and ready to lead his team in a hot-second. He was the ultimate egalitarian that made everyone around him feel like they all mattered the same, but always functioned as a leader the guys respected. Being around Tony helped me reconstruct the harsh reality of being in a war zone, to being in a foreign country with my best friends, and with every move I made their lives were on the line. Tony gradually became a brother. Even though we were in the seeds of hell, his positive outlook and comedic timing made being in hell a lot more palatable.

Hearing about Tony’s incident was absolutely devastating. I don’t think anyone is actually prepared for that kind of news. As weeks dragged on, it was increasingly difficult to get any update from the states on his status. All we knew was that he survived and the prognosis was that he was going to “make it”.

Two months later, I was hit, and ended up at Walter Reed. Although my family was beside me, I had never felt so alone and isolated from my brothers. I had all sorts of feelings, like I took the easy way out because I didn't have to be in Iraq anymore. I felt guilty. All I wanted was information about my unit. I needed to connect with them, be a part of them if even on the telephone. Then one day I opened my eyes from my bed and Tony was standing there. It was Tony, man. Right there. And I just teared up. I was so happy to see him that suddenly I knew I would make it through whatever was ahead of me.

For the next few months we pulled one another through our healing process. Every day I knew he’d be there and it would be one more day that the world would be okay. Then, before I knew it, he was gone.

So much has happened since our days at Reed. We have both led busy lives, my work kept me traveling around the country on speaking tours and supporting different veteran charities, and Tony lived all the way in Hawaii, so it was tough seeing each other. Then one day I booked a job in Hawaii. The first thing on my list was to see Tony.

Seeing Tony was like no time had passed. The army does that to you. You have brothers for life. When I saw his house though, man, it was tough. There he was with a great wife and all these children – they have an awesome family. So much going on all the time. But I couldn’t help but see the structural condition their house was in. A military income is not that great, especially with twelve kids. Tony took pride in telling me about how whenever something goes wrong he figures it out, or his church comes together like the time their septic tank blew out. It seemed to me the only down-time Tony ever had was spent trying to keep his house from falling apart.

Through my travels and work with foundations, I've been able to help raise money for veterans for just about everything - including housing.  Most soldiers that receive houses are amputees, but in my opinion, even though tony is not missing any limbs, he is the true definition of what a soldier should be, in and out of the war zone. Tony deserves this, but not just because he was injured, but because he is one of the guys that never asks for anything. All he does is give. He gives to everyone around him. He gave in Iraq and he hasn’t stopped since.

With everything that has happened to me, losing three limbs and all, if any good can come out of this, this is the only thing I’d wish for. If I am in a position to make a difference in the life of my friend – a true American hero, it’s my hope to see other good people come together with me to make this dream of mine come true.

Bryan Anderson

If you are a company or individual who would like to contribute to the Wood Family Reconstruction Project please contact:

Micaela Bensko

MoanaVida@gmail.com

Bryan enlisted in the Army in April 2001 and had a ‘ship out’ date of September 11, 2001. He
served two tours of duty in Iraq and was stationed in the Baghdad area. He attained the rank of Sergeant in the Military Police (MP), conducted police training courses in Iraq and gained
additional law enforcement experience at Leavenworth Federal Penitentiary as a prison guard.

In October 2005, Bryan was injured by an Improvised Explosive Device (IED) that resulted in the
loss of both legs and his left hand. As a result of his injuries, he was awarded a Purple Heart.
Bryan received rehabilitation for a period of 13 months at Walter Reed Army Hospital. He is one
of the few triple amputees to have survived his injuries in Iraq.

Bryan is the National Spokesman for Quantum Rehab, a division of Pride Mobility Corp., and

travels the country making numerous personal appearances while delivering his message of perseverance and determination in major rehab facilities. In addition, he is a spokesman for
USA Cares, a non-profit organization based in Radcliff, KY that is focused on assisting post
911 veterans in times of need.

Reggie & Me

A portrait of my therapy dog Reggie and myself as he rides on my scooter with me 🐾
Sometimes he drives with his paws on the handle bars. Even when I scoot around a room in our home he will sit between my feet. His fur so soft and comforting.

This artist is Stephanie Orehek from Hollywood Illustrator who is illustrating our children's book The Soldier And The Squirrel. A story of how a newly wounded soldier changes the life of a squirrel.

When Wounded Are Seen

Photographs of wounded warriors from the Vietnam War are not common. Due to today's medical advancements, those who would have died in Vietnam due to their wounds, are now surviving often severe burns, loss of limbs, or even a face. Fifty-thousand Purple Hearts beat within our country's core from the Iraq and Afghanistan wars. It is our responsibility to help connect our younger generation with our returning wounded. To engage civilians with the needs of this generation of veterans, so it is automatically assumed that our veterans are a part of our country's genetic code. The first step in providing a supportive environment for our returning wounded, is to enlighten our youth as to who these men and women are, and how to tell if an individual might be a disabled veteran. I was able to practice these efforts by creating a Power Point presentation on the Signs of A Wounded Warrior and speaking to schools with wounded veterans.

I happened to be in San Antonio to attend a military medical conference when I was asked to photograph a photo instrospective on wounded warriors for a non-profit.

With camera bag in tow, I stood at the door of SSG Henline's home. Four-tour Iraq War Purple Heart Recipient.

Henline opened the door. His face a suggestion of the man who had entered the Army so many years before. It is important to note that when discussing Henline and the troops in this story, I refer to them as soldiers as these men are Army. Accordingly, I refer to soldier gender as 'he', but the reference is for women as well, as the he/she conjunction can be disjointing at times.

I am sure I stared for a moment. To soak him in. The brain reacts when it registers an image it cannot complete. Like when a child's head cranes to see a wheelchair passing by.

Henline's greeting was grand. His dogs, Duke and Charlie, announced my arrival. I entered a blast of air so cold my sweat evaporated to a chill.

Burn patients must keep their home around sixty-five degrees. If burned severely enough, a person will lose the ability to perspire. So cooling is essential to their comfort and survival. Especially in the blistering Texas heat.

Henline wore a black t-shirt with white lettering - 'GOT BURNS?' - and eyes that twinkled like a cat that just ate an emu. We proceeded down the hall to the living room.

Photos adorned the walls. Each frame filled with his beautiful wife Connie and their children.

Explaining that someone was "blown up" may sound harsh. But there's no nice way to say that someone planted a bomb under the road and it exploded under your legs. So many wounded just say what it was. Blown up. Because they were.

But Henline still smiles. He didn't for a while. And he still has days where his skin is not his. When he passes himself in a mirror and is reminded of that day.

We sat at the kitchen table, waiting for soldiers to arrive for their portrait sessions. I was just a gal from California with a camera. Didn't matter what I had done before. It would never compare to what had been done to them.

Henline brought out an album of his last tour in Iraq. I saw what he looked like before. I wondered what it was like for him to see himself as he was. Without the burns. Lips and skin that needed to be shaved. Two arms. But he did not seem to be concerned. He had things to laugh about. Jokes that needed to be told. That was when I noticed the softness behind his scars.

Henline is a professional comedian. The kind that makes you blush in Vegas. When you have been blown up, there's little else to fear. So, he lives without the rusted anchor that keeps so many from living their dreams.

As the soldiers arrived one by one, I could sense their uncertainty of my intent. They were trusting me simply because Tempered Steel, Henline, and RAW warrior Bob Ehrig had asked them to. I set up my black back drop in the doorway, and went to work. Every soldier was young and handsome. Some more visually battered. But all were scarred inside.

There was Jacob with his mother, her arms around his chest. Jose with his father. Justin with his wife and toddler, Andy with his newborn child, scarred hands against virgin skin. And Bob with his head bowed into the tips of his fingers as his weathered arms prayed for peace. The day became a cathartic blend. I left a part of myself in Texas that day, in Henline's home, and I never want it back. The part that didn't know their stories. That hadn't touched their scars.

I fully expected that each soldier might leave once I finished his portrait. But soldiers don't leave when their brothers are still there. It is a brotherhood. An opportunity to bond, reliving a kinship that kept them alive when others so badly wanted them to die. Such gatherings are rare, and so can go long into the night. The drinks, the jokes, the tears. Tears do fall. Because it is a language they understand.

A soldier's family and friends did not see what he has seen, and will most likely never feel the depths of his pain. They do not react to the night, when cars backfire, or fireworks curl him into a ball. A soldier returns to the states where he loves his family and wishes they understood. But in order to understand, they would have had to have been where he was. And he wouldn't wish that for the world.

In between portraits, Henline showed me around his home. He shared his t-shirt collection with humorous sayings; A tool in his chest of ice- breakers. He modeled his prosthetic arms like Fabio. One hand rotated, another was a hook. All would make a teenager roar with awe. We toured his children's rooms, so freshly decorated it seemed Extreme Makeover was just there. His office walls held framed clippings of his recovery and stories on his comedic career. He was still technically enlisted, and not yet a veteran. But a warrior he was. Every day of his life.

Then, he took a phone call. And I was left alone. With Duke and Charlie. Walking the hall and absorbing his family's history along the stairs.

It was then I saw the poems. Framed and lined at attention on the wall. Written by him to each member of his family while he was in Iraq. It was at that moment, Henline became something more. More than a wounded warrior who fought a battle and found his soul. He became more than a man who lost his arm and embraced a calling. He became a husband and a father. As I read each poem, I imagined him laying on his bed in Iraq at night with a small light to lead his pen. I imagined his eyes wet with love for his wife- a connection to his children- so strong they could feel the words as he wrote each arc of a letter with his hand. These poems to his family were framed in this hall, because he almost did not come home. Days after he mailed them from Iraq, his Humvee ran over an IED. It was his fourth tour and he wasn't even supposed to be in that seat. He took the place of another soldier that day. Perhaps it was salute of destiny's hand to a man it knew could carry the burden, and be a vessel for changing so many lives that he would do it all over again.

If you ask Henline why he is so positive. How he can get up each day and make people laugh. He will tell you it is because he knows, with all of his heart, that he is now able to create more positive change in this world than that man who blew him up, will ever cause harm.

After photographing wounded troops from all branches of service across the country, the photo introspective unveiled at The Ronald Reagan Presidential Library on Veterans Day 2011. Henline was the keynote speaker.

I stood back and watched as the crowd gathered before each print in reflection, explaining heroes to their children. Henline watched.He told me that for the first time in their life, since that day when their life changed, they could feel eyes upon their soul. And that for once, beyond their scars of war, they were seen.

ALONE
When the busy day comes to an end
And she has cried all her tears out
on the phone to a friend

She tucks the kids in
and kisses them goodnight
She tells them not to worry
everything will be alright

She lies down and wonders
if she will be the one left all alone
If he will be the one
that wont make it home
But she never shows her fear
when they talk on the phone

During the madness of an aggressive fire fight
Another friend fades away
by the end of the night

Thought of his children
crying in pain
Because of his choices
can drive a man insane

The fear is hidden deep
with in his eyes
The truth comes out
with every tear that he cries

He writes in his letters
that daddy will be alright
Even though he almost lost , his life that night

He doesn’t want his wife
to raise the children alone
But he never shows his fear
when they talk on the phone

By Robert Henline March 2007 Iraq

Battle Saints

The Saints

My favorite bracelet is The Battle Saint™ bracelet. I came across it a few years ago while watching a news segment. I do not benefit in any way by sales of this beautiful item. I just love the product, and the philosophy of the family who started this company. I originally purchaed it for the love of our military and in prayer for the trials our wounded face. Over time, the bracelet has become a token of strength in our family, passed from person to person during a time of challenge. I passed it to my daughter when she left for college. She passed it back to me when my health challenge progressed. The bracelet was uniquely developed to incorporate specific saints relevant to our military, and the love continues.. $1 from every bracelet goes to The Intrepid Fallen Heroes Fund. Below is information on the saints included on the bracelet.

St Barbara – included on all bracelets

St Barbara is known as the patron saint of artillerymen, military engineers and those who work with explosives.  She lived in the 4th century and was raised as a heathen.  Forced into solitude by her father, Dioscorus, she turned to Christianity.  An infuriated Dioscorus condemned her and she was severely punished.  She was ultimately beheaded by Dioscorus himself, after which he was struck and killed by lightening.

Padre Pio – included on large bracelets

St Pio of Pietrelcina was known as a symbol of hope to people in the aftermath of WW1.  He was born in Pietrelcina, Italy, on May 25, 1887 and died September 23, 1968 at the age of 81.  He is also known as Saint Padre Pio.  Even though he lived into his 80’s, he was afflicted by several illnesses which began in childhood.  Despite his health issues, he was drafted into the army but was eventually released due to his poor health.  He was known for stigmata – wounds and bleeding similar to those experienced by Jesus at the crucifixion.

St Michael, the Archangel – included on all bracelets

St Michael the Archangel is known as the patron saint of the Armed Forces especially fighter pilots and paratroopers.  He is known as the angel warrior leading the forces of Heaven against Satan.  He is often shown slaying a dragon.  He is also known as the protector of the Jewish people.

St Anthony of Padua – included on all bracelets

Saint Anthony is the patron saint for amputees, travelers and sailors. Although he lived and worked in Italy, he was born in Lisbon, Portugal, in 1195 to a wealthy family.  He was known as a gifted speaker and for his clear and simple teachings.  He joined the Franciscan order after the bodies of 5 tortured and headless Franciscans preaching in Morocco were brought to his monastery on their way home for burial.   He died in 1231 at the age of 36.

St. Martin of Tours – included on all bracelets

St. Martin is known as the patron saint of soldiers, chaplains, quartermasters and the cavalry.  He was born in 315 or 316 in Pannonia, a Roman province that is now part of Hungary. His father was an army officer and, following the requirement that sons of military veterans must serve, he joined the army at age 15.  He was released at 18 and devoted himself to Christianity.  He was known for his efforts to free prisoners and spare them torture.  Although the exact date of his death is unknown, he lived into his 80s and died somewhere between 395 and 402.

St John of Capistrano – included on all bracelets

Born on June 24, 1386, in Italy , St John of Capistrono was a Franciscan priest and is known as the patron saint of military chaplains. He took his name from his place of birth, the village of Capestrano.  When the Turks were threatening Vienna and Rome, St John of Capistrano, at the age of 70, inspired troops to fight and drive back the Turks.  He died on October 23, 1456.

The Battle Saint™ logo – included on all bracelets

This logo ensures you are wearing an original Battle Saint™ bracelet and represents our commitment to the armed forces by donating a portion of every bracelet sale to the Intrepid Fallen Heroes Fund.

St Christopher – included on all bracelets

St Christopher is known as the patron saint of traveling, especially long journeys. He was hailed as a martyr and killed during the reign of the Roman Emperor Decius (249-251).  It is said that while crossing a river, St Christopher offered to carry a child on his shoulders.  The child was extremely heavy and was said to be Jesus carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.  St Christopher was among the saints removed, for lack of proof, from the Church’s universal calendar after the 1969 reform. Nonetheless, he remains popular.

St Philip Neri – included on all bracelets

Born in Florence in 1515, St Philip Neri is known as the patron saint of the Special Forces.  He was renowned for his sharp wit, humor and spontaneous behavior.  The meetings he held to provide spiritual guidance to young men became so popular that a room called the “Oratory” was built for these gatherings.  Eventually, St Philip Neri decided that the group should have its own Church and formed the Congregation of the Oratory. He died in 1595 at the age of eighty.

Joan of Arc – included on all bracelets

Joan of Arc was born on January 6, 1412, to peasants Jacques d’Arc and Isabelle Romee in Greux-Domremy, Lorraine, France .  At the time, England controlled much of modern day France .  Joan of Arc received visions from God to recover her homeland from England and return the true King, Charles V11, to his throne.  She led the French army in many battles and Charles regained his throne.  However, she was eventually captured by the Burgundians. She was sold to England , tried by an ecclesiastical court and burned at the stake on May 30, 1431 in Rouen, France, at the age of nineteen. She is the patron saint of soldiers, prisoners and the Women’s Army Corps.

St Nicholas of Myra – included on medium and large bracelets

St Nicholas of Myra was born in 270 AD in the Greek colony of Patara, Lycia, in modern-day Turkey .  His wealthy parents died at an early age and he was raised by an uncle.  Fervently religious from an early age, he was known for secret gift-giving and his generous nature.  One legend tells of a butcher who slaughtered his three children during a famine with plans to sell them as ham, but St Nicholas resurrected the children.  He is the patron saint of numerous groups, including children (for everyone with children serving in the military), sailors and travelers.  And, who doesn’t love St Nicholas? He died of natural causes on December 6, 346 AD in Myra, Lycia.

St Joseph of Cupertino – included on all bracelets

Born in 1603 to a poor family in the village of Cupertino in Italy , St Joseph of Cupertino is the patron saint of aviators and paratroopers.  He was known to levitate and became known as the “Flying Saint.” He was also known for the gift of healing.  He died in 1663 in Ossimo, Italy .

Gabriel, the Archangel – included on medium and large bracelets

St Gabriel, the Archangel is the patron saint of communication workers.  Gabriel is known for his prophesies, appearing to Daniel in the Old Testament and to Zachariah to announce the birth of John the Baptist.  He also announced to Mary that she would bear a son conceived of the Holy Spirit.

St Luke – included on all bracelets

St Luke is the patron saint of physicians and surgeons.  It is believed he was born a Greek and a Gentile.  In one account, he is rumored to have been a slave, since families were known to train their slaves as physicians so they would have someone to care for them.  In Luke, we hear of the poor, social injustice and about the prodigal son being welcomed back home.  Closely associated with Paul, not a lot is known about Luke after Paul’s death.  Some accounts indicate he was martyred; others tell of him having a long life.

St Sebastian – included on all bracelets

St Sebastain is known as the patron saint of archers, athletes and soldiers and is known as the protector against plagues.  He was born in Narbonne, Gaul, and joined the Roman army around 283.  He was a Captain in the praetorian guards under Emperors Diocletian and Maximian, and was ordered executed during the persecution of Christians.  Shot by arrows and left for dead, he miraculously survived.  It is no surprise that he is known for his physical fortitude.  After his recovery, he denounced the Emperor for his cruelty to Christians and was ordered beaten to death.

St George – included on all large bracelets

It is believed that St George was born to a Christian family in Lydda, Palestine, sometime between 275 AD and 285 AD.  His father was a respected Roman army official and St George followed in his footsteps.  He would become part of the Imperial Guard and is often depicted slaying a dragon. (It was said he was rescuing a beautiful woman, with the dragon representing wickedness and the woman representing God’s holy truth.)  When Emperor Diocletian began persecuting Christians, St George announced his Christianity and condemned the Emperor’s edict.  The Emperor offered land and money to St George if he would denounce his Christianity, but St George refused.  He was ordered tortured and eventually beheaded in 303.  He became a legend after his death for his courage and unwavering faith.  Soldiers, in particular, are known to be devoted to St George.

Rebuilding America's Warriors - One Woman's Idea Changing Lives

There's something about Maggie. It's something you can't touch. A passion for our wounded that runs so deep the only way she could manage it was to create an organization providing free reconstructive surgery for troops injured at war.

Maggie Lockridge thought her work was done. She had just sold her plastic surgery recovery facility in Beverly Hills after twenty years of tending to the needs of the rich and powerful. Maggie was the best known but least acknowledged woman in town. From Hollywood to European royalty, her anecdotes of clientele could fill a book. And it has. Her book Facelift Hotel (protecting the true identities of her guests) was self-published and is now under development for a possible scripted television series. But it was a different show that would change the course of her retirement and her life.

Bob Woodruff was journaling the affects of war in his televised documentary "To Iraq and Back". But as Maggie watched the wounded troops being interviewed, she noticed something nobody was talking about. The scars that still remained.

Within weeks Maggie developed the mission and 501c3 submission for Iraq Star. A play on the words 'rock star'. If the rich and powerful can be treated like gods, why shouldn't our wounded be treated the same? With a roster of Beverly Hills surgeons, and hotels willing to lower their fees, her tool chest was ripe for making a difference. Iraq Star would pick up where the VA left off. The goal of the VA was to get the troops functional. Maggie saw young men who still wanted to date, who wanted their wives to see them as they were, and fathers who wanted their children to not be afraid of the scars.

Iraq Star flourished. Dr. Phil contacted them asking for help with Randy Gollinger, a troop in need of a prosthetic eye and orbital reconstruction. Dr. Michael Groth offered his services Pro Bono and the segment aired to national acclaim. The world saw how one woman's idea could make a difference and how one young man's life was changed forever. Randy's story was followed up on The Doctors. Dr. Phil McGraw still sits as an Honorary Board Member of the organization.

It was a time when the war was still relatively new. The influx of wounded to Walter Reed had exploded. The hospital was overwhelmed and the backlog within the VA system numbered in the hundreds of thousands. The red tape caused troops in need to crumble under the pressure of paperwork and miles logged to get treatment in far away towns. Iraq Star flew them to Beverly Hills, picked them and a loved one up at the airport, set them up at a hotel near their doctor's office, took them to their appointments or organized their transportation, paid for meals, medication, OR fees and all fees not offered Pro Bono by the surgeons or covered by Tri-Care. All with the assistance of famed plastic surgeon to the stars, Dr. Norman Leaf as its Medical Director.

Then something happened. The war expanded into Afghanistan. Iraq Star the name no longer represented its mission. A Facebook post requesting submissions for its new name. Sue Muskin at BAMC-Brooke Army Medical Center- came up with Rebuilding America's Warriors or R.A.W. The name was perfect.

Maggie is more than a philanthropist. She is a former Air Force nurse who tears up at the sight of the American flag, she is a mother of two and grandmother of five. I am responsible for four of them. And I could not be more proud of this woman who has adopted over a hundred sons and daughters over the years who have changed our lives with their determination to be pro-active when they discovered that someone truly cares about who they are - not just as troops at war, but warriors in life.

Rebuilding America's Warriors has expanded its mission to become a national network of doctors across the country so troops can now be treated for free right near their home, avoiding travel. But they are still rock stars. We are struck by their presence and awed by their stories. And know in our hearts, Maggie was a nurse and administrator to royalty to prepare her for how our returning wounded should be treated every day of their lives.

For more information on Rebuilding America's Warriors go to www.RebuildingAmericasWarriors.org

A Mother A Son And A Deployment

As seen on KHTS http://hometownstation.com/santa-clarita-news/editorial-mother-son-and-deployment-35841

A mother, a son, and a deployment. Few civilians will ever understand the impact these three things have on a family. Especially when the parents never thought their son would be serving his country.

Rayan was a typical young man. Until 9/11. When the world turned grey. When eighth graders had more to talk about than the girl in the short skirt. When high school students had their first shot of patriotism. And College students left their desks for something they could touch.

9/11 touched us all. But it touched Rayan at an age when the towers were scalded in his memory and the only way to heal his wounds was to enlist. But he was only thirteen.

A Valencia High School ROTC instructor, Captain Ed Colley, spoke at Rayan’s school. His interest was piqued. He made the decision to enroll at Valencia High School just for the ROTC program, even though he lived in Canyon Country on the other side of the Santa Clarita Valley. He would have to take the bus. His mother, Jeri, tried to dissuade him from this daily trek. An hour and a half by bus in the mornings. Two hours home in the evening. But nothing could stop him from following his dream. Some kids get addicted to drugs. Rayan was addicted to his country.

Jeri understood patriotism. Her father in law fought in World War II. He was stationed in Italy, was shot, and watched many friends die. Jeri secretly hoped the long bus rides would break Rayan from continuing at Valencia's ROTC. But to no avail. Rayan did so well, he became the youngest student leader ever of the ROTC program. After 9/11,the number of students jumped from fifty students, to one hundred and fifty, with a waiting list.

Eleventh grade came around as did college applications. Rayan’s dream was to attend West Point Academy. Army was in his blood, and Jeri didn’t even know it. Rayan applied for the West Point Summer Camp, the precursor to acceptance to the Academy. Rayan was denied. He was crushed. Instead he attended the Coast Guard Summer Camp and it seemed his destiny had shifted. Until a large leather bound thick-papered package came in the mail address to Rayan. He had been accepted to his dream school. West Point Academy.

Jeri’s wall came down. It was time to make the decision to support and rejoice in his accomplishments, or get out of the way. Her son would be going to war.

But not yet.

West Point was everything he wanted it to be, and everything Jeri hoped it could be for her son. He made friends for life, and their families became extensions of Jeri.

Rayan met his wife just after graduation. They married June 2012. A common occurrence among West Point graduates with a future so uncertain the only right thing to do, is live.

Rayan deployed in May 2013.

He was in the top 10% of his class and had the choice to branch into any specialty he wanted to. But he chose the difficult, and more challenging choice of infantry. During his years at West Point, Rayan spent a summer at the State Department in Washington D.C. with an internship working with General David Petraeus. To this day Jeri does not know what this entailed. Her first taste of the secrecy that would come with Rayan’s enlistment.

After graduation, he went to Rangers School - Ranger Training Brigade - for sixteen weeks in Fort Benning, Georgia. It is the equivalent of the Navy Seals, but for the Army. Only 20% make it thru Rangers School.

He never stopped. He never quit. His eye was on the goal. The goal was Afghanistan.

Rayan never gave up on his dream. But how does a mother support a son who has chosen to place himself in harm’s way, every day of his life? Faith. It sounds like a cliché. But it’s not a cliché to Jeri. It is as real as the towers. As pure as her son's first breath. Faith was her oxygen. Her anchor. It is what keeps her alive when she hurts so much she can't breath.

Faith has allowed Jeri to do the impossible. To imagine he is safe. And to accept without hesitation that his situation is out of her control. This is the advice she would give any mother of a child that is deployed. Acceptance, and perhaps denial. But it works for Jeri. Because she has faith.

Not all mothers of our troops have faith. Some are too hurt to have faith. That their child enlisted and decided to go to war. But no matter their outlook on their child’s decision, there is a common thread among military families. A brotherhood. A sisterhood. A support system of people with one thing in common. They could lose their son or daughter at any moment. Every ring of the phone makes their heart skip a beat. But it’s the knock on the door that haunts them every day. A phone call means their child could be injured. A knock on the door could mean they lost them forever. For Jeri, there is is little room for negativity, or imagining the worst. Because the worst will never be what she imagined.

Rayan is now in Afghanistan. His duties morphed into heading the breakdown of old camps and the raising of new ones. He finds himself often without essentials such as towels or toilet paper as these camps are on the fringe of civility. He has risen to 1st Lieutenant. And carries on his shoulders the weight of a past generation. When young men deployed and were lifted by their country back home.

We have a new generation of men and women who enlisted because, to them, there was no other choice. It was a calling for something that mattered. Because so little seemed to really matter. We have a generation of troops who have optimism that their sacrifice will make a difference. For one soldier, he already has. He changed a life back home. Because of him, his mother believes, she surrenders her fears, and chooses light over darkness. He has changed the very way his mother breathes. He changed how she speaks his name. How she holds a frame with his young face so filled with hope. Because of him, she lives for today, when the phone doesn’t ring and there is no knock at the door. He has given her the ultimate gift. Faith.

As the bases in Afghanistan are shut down, and the contractors are pulling out, he faces challenges he did not expect.

But in the fashion of the eighth grader who had a dream, Rayan never stops. He calls his family and calms their fears. The Army might be a career. A life of uncertainty linked to hearts that skip a beat. But it is his love for country. His pride in possibilities. And his commitment to a goal that will make him a success. But if he is anything like his mother, a dose of faith will take him a long way too. And she wouldn’t have it any other way.

A Memorial Day Tribute to Military Working Dog Bak by Guest Blogger and Soldier Kevin Hanrahan

 

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Posted on 27th May, by Chuck in Dog Advocate. 7 Comments

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Last week I brought you the heart wrenching story of Military Working Dog Bak’s Memorial Service at Fort Stewart Georgia. MWD Bak was killed this past March in Afghanistan.

As a tribute to MWD Bak on Memorial Day, here is his story.

There was nothing better than seeing those Afghan mountain peaks slowly turning from brown to white. It seemed that, as the snow melted away, US Army Sergeant Marel Molina and his Military Working Dog Bak’s time remaining in Afghanistan withered away day by day.

But Sergeant Molina couldn’t think about going home today, even though he was a short two months away. He had work to do.

No, that wasn’t right.  He and MWD Bak had work to do.

Keeping his Green Beret team alive was hard work.

Sergeant Molina listened intently as Captain Pedersen, his Green Beret Alpha Team leader, discussed that day’s mission with the Afghan local policemen. But Molina barely understood a word of their exchange.

He was always impressed that many of these Green Berets could speak Pashtun, one of the predominant languages in Afghanistan.

Looking over his shoulder he spied the 100-pound working dog lying in the back of the Razor, his thick mahogany coat with black tipping made him a picture-perfect German shepherd, fit for the movies. The dog dozed in and out of wakefulness, but Sergeant Molina knew in a snap of his fingers MWD Bak would be focused on one thing—finding buried explosives.

The Green Beret team knew this as well. MWD Bak had already used his extraordinary explosive-sniffing skills to unearth six improvised explosives that surely would have wiped out the entire team by now.

His Majesty MWD Bak could lounge anywhere he wanted. It didn’t matter when, where, or with whom. The three-year-old shepherd was always ready for duty.

Sergeant Molina scanned the group of Afghan local policemen and thought he recognized a few of them. The Green Berets frequently patrolled with the local men, trained with them, and tried to assist them in policing their country. But it was hard to keep them all straight with their constant turnover.

The Afghan men were a ragtag bunch with look-alike uniforms in varying states, pockets and pouches stuffed with who knew what, in gear strapped to their chests that included an American AK-47.

Most of the Afghans had short beards, dirty olive skin, and were rail thin.

Today for patrol, their motley crew consisted of a squad on infantry from the 3rd Infantry Division, a handful of Green Berets, Sergeant Molina, and MWD Bak.  Captain Pedersen shook the hand of the Afghan local policemen’s leader and turned to brief the Americans.

Then all hell broke loose.

Gunfire, screaming, and pleas for help filled the air.

An Afghan local policeman turned his AK-47 on the group and shot wildly into the group of Americans. Sergeant Molina felt something slice through the left side of his neck. He dropped to the ground next to Captain Pedersen.

Pedersenwas lifeless, shot through the head. The man never stood a chance. The same bullet that had ripped through Pedersen’s head was the one that ripped through Sergeant Molina’s neck. It was ironic to think that being shot through the neck was lucky. But in Afghanistan everything is relative.

In seconds the shooting was over and the rogue Afghan local policeman was gunned down by a Green Beret. But not before the policeman had injured a handful of American soldiers, killed Pedersen, and members of the infantry squad participating in that day’s mission.

Blood flowed from Sergeant Molina’s neck, but he couldn’t feel the pain yet. He stood up and his knee felt like he had hit it on a rock or gotten a “charlie horse.” Then he saw blood dripping from his right knee and a hole in his pants.

Adrenaline rushed through his body as he wobbled over to a fallen comrade and began to conduct first aide on the fallen man. The soldier was a lot worse than Molina. He would be lucky to make it.

Once a medic relieved him, Molina pulled security on the other Afghan policeman and then assisted in disarming them. With the threat neutralized and the adrenaline subsiding, Sergeant Molina realized he hadn’t heard from MWD Bak.

Initially when Molina had dropped to the ground he had seen Bak lying calmly on the Razor vehicle. The dog had nerves of steel; he had been hit before with shrapnel from a rocket-propelled grenade and barely whimpered.

“Bak, come here boy.”

A spike of fear shot through his body when Bak didn’t move.

He rushed to his dog and panic ripped through him as he realized Bak’s once mahogany hind legs were wet and dark with his own blood.

“Medic,” screamed Molina as he ripped open a box of field bandages and tried to locate the entrance wound. As he touched Bak, the dog’s eyes fluttered and Molina knew he was losing consciousness. He would go into shock next.

The medic arrived and handed a catheter to Molina who inserted it into Bak’s leg. The dog needed  fluids immediately.

“It’s all right buddy, Daddy is right here, pal. You’re going to be fine,” said Molina as he watched his battle buddy gasp for air.  Molina knew the dog had internal bleeding. Molina wondered what that bullet had ripped through inside Bak.

The MEDVAC chopper landed and loaded them all. Molina lay by Bak’s side the entire time.

Sometime during the flight Molina began losing consciousness, but he kept an arm around Bak, reassuring him that everything would be all right, praying that everything would be all right.

But it wasn’t.

As Molina lay in a hospital bed at Bagram Airbase awaiting surgery, the veterinarian came in with a somber face.

Tears streamed down Molina’s cheeks. He already knew what was the veterinarian was going to say.

“I’m sorry, Sergeant, but Bak bled out internally. He’s left us.”

They had been so close to going home. Now only one would go.

Sergeant Marel Molina received lifesaving surgery at Bagram Airbase Afghanistan, was evavced to Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in Germany and then to Walter Reed Hospital in Washington, DC. He has moved from crutches, to a cane, to walking on his own. He has high hopes for being completely off aids soon and is very close to a full recovery.

Physically he will heal, but mentally he will never be the same. He will never forget his battle buddy Military Working Dog Bak and the images of him lying on that chopper, bleeding out, and Molina powerless to help him.

Bak wasn’t a piece of equipment, and he wasn’t just a dog, Military Working Dog Bak was a fellow soldier, who died fighting for this country.

Sergeant Molina and many other soldiers are alive today because of their fellow soldier, Military Working Dog Bak.

As a country we celebrate Memorial Day to remember the men and women who fought and died for this country. But for those that fought beside them, we also think of our four-legged soldiers who made the ultimate sacrifice.

Please remember Military Working Dog Bak and the others like him who made the ultimate sacrifice for our freedom.

Also killed in this incident was:

CPT Andrew M. Pedersen-Keel, 28, of South Miami, Fla.  He was assigned to the 1st Battalion, 3rd Special Forces Group (Airborne), Fort Bragg, N.C.

SSG Rex L. Schad, 26, of Edmond, Okla.  He was assigned to the 3rd Battalion, 69th Armor Regiment, 1st Armor Brigade Combat Team, 3rd Infantry Division, Fort Stewart, Ga

GI Photo Jam & MOH Sakato

It was a Friday. My location consisted of military uniforms and Humvees. Not your usual seminar venue, I had arrived at the Los Angeles Recruiting Battalion for an impromptu GI Photo Jam. It was seeded by an idea by one of my friends SFC Jason R. Montano, Battalion Master Trainer, who hoped to learn more about photography. In a matter of days our session evolved into the concept of providing a free seminar session for troops at the Battalion. After a morning of jamming on the Three Scoops of Photography, our day swiftly morphed into the ULTIMATE workshop, covering the Battalion event of WWII Medal of Honor recipient, George Sakato. We shifted through the audience of the 200 soldiers as they listened to one of the greatest military events of our time. Sakato revisited the emotional tale of his fellow soldier dying in his arms in the fields of France, the ensuing battle, and his feat of eliminating twelve Germans with his personal capture of thirty-seven others, saving the lives of the rest of his unit. The Medal of Honor was bestowed upon him fifty years later by President Clinton.
After Sakato spoke to the troops, we followed him to a private visit in the LTC's office where we all fell in love with him. This dynamic man of history released his wit, exclaiming his greatest lesson from his incident, "I learned to keep my head down". His daughter beamed from the corner of the room, lovingly protective and embracing pride in every moment of adoration placed on her father. She shared the story of how he joined the military so he would be respected as an American during such a volatile period in history as a young man of Japanese heritage.
I will hold that Friday dear, for the opportunity to have had the photo jam with my friends in uniform, and for the brief time we shared with a hero.
As my friend SFC Montano (otherwise known as my Battle Buddy) transfers to Fort Knox, Kentucky, my heart saddens with the reality our servicemen and women endure in their ever-changing locations of their own. There will be more GI Photo Jams to come, all because of a friend, an idea, and a Friday we will hold in our hearts forever.[gallery]

National FOX News Piece on Tempered Steel

Wounded Veterans Share Their Stories With Students, Community

By Laura Prabucki

Published May 29, 2011
www.foxnews.com

Any time you think you've had a bad day, remember Tony Lino.

The Marine gunnery sergeant has been blown up and cheated death, twice. Lino has dedicated his life to our country, serving as an explosives ordinance detonator, or "hurt locker" guy. He's deployed five times, once to Afghanistan and four times to Iraq.

It was during two of his tours in Iraq that he almost lost his life, first in 2006 and then in 2009, both by improvised explosive devices, or IEDs.

“I just felt like everything, like my face, wasn't going to be there anymore," Lino said.

Now he's sharing his story with others, the story behind his scars. Lino is part of a group called Tempered Steel, co-founded by Army Sgt. Scott Stephenson and his mother after the soldier was seriously wounded and disfigured in Iraq.

The wounded warriors tell their harrowing tales of survival to young students and other groups. Their mission: break down barriers in hopes that other injured vets will be embraced and accepted when they come home.

"It's about developing an ease of dialogue, a foundation of respect and a union between the wounded warriors and our civilians,” said Micaela Bensko, president of Tempered Steel.

Lino shared his harrowing story with Fox News.

"I couldn't even blink because I could feel all the dirt and shrapnel underneath both of my eyelids and underneath my eyes, so every time I blinked it felt like razor blades were cutting my eyelids," Lino said.

Dealing with something so devastating might cause some people to lose hope and give up, but Lino is a true fighter and says the experience has made him stronger.

He's not alone.

Army infantryman J.R. Martinez also shares his story through Tempered Steel. The 27-year old suffered burns covering more than 40 percent of his body and needed more than 30 surgeries after the Humvee he was driving ran over a land mine in Iraq.

"It's changed my life for the better -- completely," says Martinez, who along with being a motivational speaker also stars on the soap opera "All My Children."

“It’s given me an amazing insight to life," he said. "It's given me an amazing insight to myself, which ultimately allows me to be a better son, a better friend, a better family member."

Martinez's message is also helping to inspire others. He recently spoke to a group of seventh-graders at Rio Norte Junior High School in Santa Clarita, Calif. The students say their first impressions of Martinez were wrong and that while they find his story sad, they're impressed with how positive he is.

"I think the most important thing it taught me was, no matter what happens, to always take the better in life that you can and move on with things," Michaela Banyi said.

“He was definitely very positive, very faithful," said Omar Espinoza. “He said somehow his experience helped him to be more successful.”

For Martinez, that's a mission accomplished.

"It gives you something bigger in life that you never would expect," Martinez said. "What Tempered Steel has done for a lot of these guys is given them a platform and given them an opportunity to share their story that they potentially would not have been able to create on their own." That opportunity "is big, is very big," he said.

To learn more about Tempered Steel and how you can help these brave men and women in sharing their message, check out www.temperedsteelinc.org.

Read more: http://www.foxnews.com/us/2011/05/29/group-encourages-wounded-veterans-share-stories-students-community/#ixzz1NlograJo

Tempered Steel & Kids Rock

Tempered Steel, unites wounded soldiers with the public through dialogue, building relationships between our next generation and our wounded soldiers returning from Iraq and Afghanistan. This week was a very special week for us. Two new speakers joined us, both Iraq Star warriors, sharing their stories of survival with students in Southern California.

Gunnery Sergeant Tony Lino was blown up in Iraq...twice. He was an EOD, Explosives Ordinance Detonator, otherwise known as a Hurt Locker guy. We met when my family's foundation, Iraq Star, reconstructed his teeth, and we have been family ever since. As Tempered Steel grows, it is becoming a breeding ground of healing for wounded soldiers as well as our Iraq Star warriors. Wounded troops from all around are beginning to hear about the opportunity to teach our youth about the sacrifices made for our country by simply sharing their stories of survival and blessings from their trials. The students are not only able to connect with our military on a personal level, but in a way which encourages support for our men and women who serve and an appreciation for the sacrifices made for our freedoms. Tony spoke to sixty fourth graders at Hesby Oaks Elementary two days ago. It was his first time speaking for Tempered Steel. Today the children are still wearing the medals he gave out, the bracelets, and one little girl is sitting in her seat today knowing an American soldier who cares. This little girl tugged on his jacket after he spoke that day and whispered,"My mom and dad are from Iraq. My uncle was an Iraqi soldier. He was shot in the heart."

JR Martinez is an actor, but he's a soldier first. He's a wounded warrior blown up in an explosion in 2003 when his Humvee hit a landmine. As his three fellow soldiers were ejected from the vehicle, JR was the driver, and watched the skin melt on his hands, in that seat, for ten minutes before they could get him out.

Almost three years at BAMC, and over thirty surgeries later, he thought his life was over...until his mother said something to him that would ultimately affect millions of lives around the world. She said, son, you have been given a gift. Now, for the rest of your life, you will know that people will love you for who you are, and not what you look like. It is YOU that will matter and can make a difference in this world.He now speaks for Tempered Steel, connecting with youths on a raw level, telling his story of survival and the power they hold in determining the direction of their lives amidst the biting reality of uncertainty.

This week JR spoke to a packed theater at Valencia High School for our organization, Tempered Steel. As many times as I've seen our troops speak for us, it never ceases to amaze me how the heart just aches and tears well in the eyes, even though I know their stories. You see, JR was finished after 45 minutes, but he stayed three hours. The kids didn't leave. After he was done, we were set to pack up to go, and a crowd of students encircled him, thanked him, and many went tot heir next class. There was a group however who needed more. Their hearts were aching for everything real, for the connection to linger and possibly heal their own wounds they carried inside. A young girl who wished to be a dancer who's dream was crushed by surgeries, a young girl with dark black hair and black eyeliner covering an absolutely beautiful face, hiding her pain of exclusion and isolation. A boy who sat throughout the speech with his hood over his head, his face in a staid expression walked up to him, tears in his eyes, he reached out his arms to JR. JR looked his way expecting to respond to his words, but all the boy could say was, "Man, please, I need a hug. I have to hug you. I have to thank you for being here, you have changed my life, you have no idea."

We sat in the theater for hours, talking about life, JR inspiring each student as he answered their regrets in life with encouragement, with hope, with the heart of Tempered Steel.

Here is a little summary of what we do: