boom

"Hey, would you mind riding in the turret today? Im still feeling like shit."



"Yeah, no problem."



We were on our way to pick up a few things from our compound; if we were gonna spend the rest of the week at 1st AD brigade HQ, we were sure as hell gonna have all our stuff. We were just gonna make a quick stop at the barracks then head over to Gunner Main where there was supposed to be some work for the EOD(explosive Ordinance Disposal) guys we were escorting around.



As we were coming up towards River Road, I looked out at the street behind us pulling security from behind the .50 cal. I'd walked this road a hundred times so when it hit me, I couldn't understand what we could have driven under, what could have struck me so hard.



It took almost a full second to realize what had happened.



The smoke was all around us and there was no sound but the dull ringing in my head, all I could smell was the blood. I was doubled over the side of the turret and as I stared out into the gray haze that surrounded us, the fear and pain hit me like a second explosion. With each breath I screamed, the shrapnel inside me seared my muscles and my foot throbbed with pain. My tears were lost in the blood that poured down my face and clouded my vision. As I began to feel frantically around my throat for wounds, the voice of the vehicle's driver, platoon medic Matt Moss, pierced the silence.



"Get away from the vehicle!" He screamed. "Get away from the vehicle."



He was right, the gas tanks could go or someone could be waiting with an RPG for the haze to clear. I pulled myself out of the turret and rolled down onto the Humvee's hood. I could see out of my right eye now and the only thing I could still feel was the crushing pain in my left foot. While I lowered myself to the ground, onto my good foot, I looked through the missing windshield and saw Wise, still motionless in the passenger seat. His head was tilted back and his face was covered in blood.



"Oh no, Wise!" I shouted, as Matt ran to the side of the vehicle.



"Help me move him," he shouted, "Come on, help me get Wise!" His voice was edged with panic but he moved with the steady deliberation of a man concerned only with his duty.



"I can't," I yelled through a mouthful of blood, "I think my foot's broken." But it didn't matter, the guys from the other humvee had already run back to our vehicle. They helped Matt pull Wise out and lower him to the ground.



As I hopped off to the side of the road and sat down, I realized that my foot was not only broken but pouring a steady stream of blood from the left side. Through gritted teeth and shouts of pain I unlaced my boot and pulled it off. The smelll of burnt flesh hit me instantly as I looked down at my foot. The left side of my sock was entirely soaked and dripping with blood but the right side was a large charred patch of indistinguishable skin, sock and shrapnel.



"Im going to lose my foot" I thought between shouts of anger and pain. "I'm never going to skate again."



"Come on Wise, Breathe!" Matt's voice broke through my selfabsorbed agony. "God Dammnit, breathe, your not going to die here!"



How could I be so obsessed with my own pain, I shouldn't be worried about my foot while one of my best friends is dying a few feet away from me... But it hurt so bad.



"Oh God, Wise, Ahhhh, my foot." I yelled and craned my neck to try and see them working on Wise behind me but I could only see his feet for all the people around him.



Now the QRF was starting to arrive from the compound. They secured the area and after about ten agonizing minutes of pain and uncertainty. Wise and I were loaded onto a Blackhawk and evac'd to the hospital at the palace. They'd gotten him breathing again, they said he was gonna be okay.



At the hospital they gave me morphine. It didn't do much for the pain, but Wise was gonna be okay and once the doctor pulled the piece of shrapnel out, he said I wasn't gonna lose my foot. I was in a good mood. Maybe it was just the drugs but I knew I was gonna be okay and I was in good spirits. The doctors put me under for surgery. They cleaned out my wound, and cut away the dead, burned tissue. When I woke up, I didn't feel any pain, a General came and saw me and gave me a 1st AD brigade coin, I was gonna be back in the states in a week, and I found out that that the guy I'd spent the last 9 months getting to know better than almost anyone else, died of massive head trauma while I was in surgery.



He'll be burried at Arlington National Cemetery next week.