As I walked through the sliding doors at my local Veterans Affairs clinic last week, I couldn’t help but cringe at the morose scene in front of me. Sitting in the small, overcrowded waiting area were the former fighters of our nation’s wars, both past and present. Veterans from every conflict since Korea seemed to be represented. The Vietnam vets, with their worn out olive-drab field jackets, outnumbered the rest, but a few Korean, Desert Storm, Iraq and Afghanistan veterans were scattered throughout.

While I was there to pick up a simple medication, it was obvious that others were there for more serious reasons. The waiting area was filled with men and women of all ailments. Old and young, some were missing a leg or bound to a wheelchair, while others were coughing uncontrollably, mumbling incoherently to themselves, or grasping their old, frayed rucksacks, clearly homeless and looking for a break from the rain coming down outside.

Standing at the pharmacy desk, waiting for the clerk to fetch my record, I unconsciously began to stare at those with the most serious injuries, thinking back to my days as a new lieutenant. As odd as it seems, I remembered how I was more afraid of being seriously injured in combat than I was of being killed. I could never really explain why. Maybe it was because I had spent so much time preparing for my military career that I didn’t want it to be over before I was ready. I had spent four years in college preparing to be a soldier, logged thousands of hours in the gym, endured months of training in harsh conditions, suffered starvation in Ranger School and memorized a plethora of facts and figures that only an aspiring military leader would care to know. I didn’t want all of that to go to waste.

But no matter how I spun it, I couldn’t ignore the most conspicuous reasons. The truth is that I couldn’t bear the thought of losing a limb in an I.E.D. explosion, or being paralyzed and never able to walk again. I couldn’t imagine suffering burns over 90 percent of my body and not being able to recognize myself when I looked in the mirror every morning. I was scared that if I sustained such an injury my wife might never find me attractive again, or that my mind would be so broken that my marriage would soon follow. I didn’t want to have to endure the excruciating pain of such injuries, lying in a hospital bed for months on end or learning how to use a pencil again. I had seen what happens to those who were seriously hurt in battle, and I was certain that those people would rather have died than have to continue living with such debilitating injuries. Or so I thought.

Being seriously injured is something that most combat soldiers never really believe will happen to them. Many choose to turn a blind eye to it, pretending that such things only happen to other people. I was no exception. I used to be the guy who would get in the other line at the grocery store check-out, cross to the other side of the street, or avert my eyes when I saw a wounded service member or veteran. I know I wasn’t alone either. I can recall countless conversations with my soldiers who stated the same thing. In combat, they just didn’t want to talk about their friends who had been seriously hurt, and given the choice, nearly all of them would opt for a quick death over the loss of a limb or similar serious injury. I’ve even read rumors that troops are now going as far as entering into “do not resuscitate” pacts with their friends and medics, opting to come home in a black plastic bag over a much more painful alternative.

If you look at the numbers, it doesn’t take much analysis to realize that, in today’s wars, the odds are more in favor of someone being gravely hurt in combat than killed. As of November 2011, icasualties.org reports that roughly 32,200 Americans were wounded in Iraq compared to 4,483 killed. That’s a ratio of about seven wounded for every one killed. In Afghanistan, that ratio climbs to almost eight to one, with roughly 14,342 Americans wounded and 1,834 killed. Accompanying that increased number of wounded are more and more double and triple amputees. In this year alone, there have been more than 147 total amputations, 77 of which involved more than one limb.

Recent studies attribute this increase in amputees to a change in tactics for both sides of the war: an increased number of foot patrols by American forces, and more powerful I.E.D.’s and more numerous antipersonnel mines planted by insurgents. Improvements in battlefield technology and medicine may also have a hand in this number. Improved armored vehicle designs, more consistent use of tourniquets, blood clotting medicines and faster air evacuations, among other factors, have each played a significant role in saving the lives of the critically wounded.

However, these injuries, while undoubtedly life changing, don’t have to be life ending. Take the case of Capt. Dan Luckett, one of the few double-amputees actively serving in the Army today. A close friend of mine in college, Dan was a year younger than I and almost like a little brother. He had an infectious personality, always carrying a sense of mirth wherever he went. Dan was somewhat of an average student, but he never failed to excel in every aspect of being a soldier and a leader, something he took with the utmost solemnity.

On Mother’s Day, 2008, Dan was only a few days into his first job as a rifle platoon leader. While patrolling the streets of Baghdad, his Humvee was struck by an Explosively Formed Penetrator, known as an E.F.P., sending a molten copper slug through the vehicle’s armor and right though Dan’s legs. His left foot was sheared off above the ankle and his right foot was left a lump of mangled flesh, half cut off above the toes.

Within six days, Dan was moved from the battlefields of Iraq to Walter Reed Army Medical Center, where he began what everyone thought would be a long and arduous journey to recovery. As far as they were concerned, his military career was over. Family members and doctors kept waiting for the reality of his injuries to set in, but Dan, being the stubborn optimist that he was, refused to let them.

After only a few months, he was already walking with the use of a prosthetic leg, which he had effectively stolen from the staff at Walter Reed. Within nine months, he could run an 8-minute mile. Shortly after that, he was able to return to his old unit with the 101st Airborne Division, where he passed numerous physical fitness tests and resumed his role as a regular soldier. Dan went on to deploy with his unit in May 2010 to Kandahar Province in Afghanistan, where he fought for a year. He continues to serve as an infantry officer today.

Dan Luckett, United States Army

Standing there in the V.A. clinic that day, I realized that soldiers like Dan Luckett proved to me how wrong I was about being wounded in battle. Dan could have let his injuries dictate his life to him, but he refused. Instead, he is doing what he intended to do all along – serve his country as a soldier. But not everyone who is injured in battle will be as lucky as Dan. Some will have more debilitating wounds. Some will deal with them differently.

The melancholy atmosphere and the composition of patients in that waiting room was really just a microcosm of what our nation’s veterans truly look like. Being there helped me understand that, just like the generations of World War II, Korea and Vietnam veterans before us, our generation and our nation has a responsibility to take care of these few service members who have sacrificed so much. With budget cuts to our military looming, this responsibility will only become more requisite in the coming years.

The next time you see a wounded veteran, don’t be the person who pretends they don’t exist. Approach them in the grocery store line. Look them in eye and shake their hand or pat them on the back. Ask them what happened and really listen to their story. Make it clear that you understand their sacrifice. And let them know that a grateful nation stands behind them.

Then go tell your friends to do the same.

Capt. Daniel Luckett of the Army is still on active duty. He recently finished the Maneuver Captain’s Career Course at Fort Benning, Ga., and will report to the 10th Mountain Division at Fort Drum, N.Y., this month.

Steve Griffin spent five years as an Army officer. He served two tours in Iraq, as a tank and rifle platoon leader in 2006 and as a civil military officer in 2008. Today he is a program manager for a military contractor in Florida. He is also a member and advocate for Team Red, White, and Blue, a non-profit organization that provides support in conjunction with the Department of Veterans Affairs for wounded veterans.