For Memorial Day: ‘Service Before Self’

By Bill Doughty

The first-person stories in “Walk In My Combat Boots” haunt this Memorial Day. This is the second of a two-part Navy Reads review of this important book filled with the voices of combat warriors, medics, and defenders of freedom. Part one was posted May 21.

"Walk In My Combat Boots" by James Patterson reveals “the courage, the sense of duty, [and] the patriotism of this young generation,” according to Adm. William H. McRaven (U.S. Navy, ret.).

This weekend the nation is commemorating and honoring those who have fallen in combat. We should also reflect on the service and sacrifice of young men and women who served in recent war zones and saw death first-hand, up close, heartbreakingly personal.

Lt. Col. Sherry Hemby, 455th Expeditionary Aeromedical Evacuation Flight commander, ensures the brackets are in working order on a C-130 Hercules for an aeromedical evacuation flight to Bagram Air Field, Afghanistan, June 28, 2011. (Senior Airman Krista Rose)

Many of the patriots in this book are children of military veterans. Such is the case of Sherry Hemby, an Air Force flight nurse who remembers her dad: He taught me about patriotism –– to think of others. Service before self.”

Andy Prososky, a United States Marine veteran, is the son of a Navy Corpsman who served in Vietnam.

While serving in Iraq nearly two decades ago, he mastered the ability to compartmentalize, to not think of family and home, especially when out on a mission. “I don’t care about me, only my Marines,” he says.

Prososky encapsulates the tragedy of war in one episode involving RPGs, IEDs, a JAG, and a Marine killed in action. “Back home people ask me what death is like. You can’t explain it. It’s not dramatic, there’s no music, it’s sudden, it’s violent, it’s reality.”

Marine Cpl. Rory Hamill

The final section of this book is titled “Coda: Memorial Day.” And the final featured interview and story is by former Marine Corporal Rory Patric Hamill, son of two Navy parents. An extended excerpt follows:

“The amazing thing our brains do for us is compartmentalize any kind of trauma.

And therein lies the problem: people don’t address PTSD or what psychologists call a moral injury –– the feeling of overwhelming shame and guilt, even rage, anger, or betrayal over compromising your moral conscience. If you don’t address these actions and reactions, they come back to haunt you down the road.

I learn all this stuff later. Much, much later …

…The demons from all my deployments start eating away at me day and night. I can’t sleep, and I’m drinking too much. I’m smoking like a chimney. I’m not seeing my kids, and I’m shirking my responsibilities –– and it’s all because I’ve been ripped out from the familial structure of the military. And I miss the camaraderie.

From day one in the military, your entire day is regimented. It’s scheduled and structured down to the minute. You have a mission. You go out and get it done. Now I don’t have anyone telling me to do anything. I don’t have anyone keeping me in check.

My second marriage ends.

I find myself sitting outside a marsh by my dad’s house in Atlantic City. I’m sitting in the driver’s seat, holding a pistol.

I raise it to my head, about to end my life, when for maybe a half second my kids flash through my mind.

What the fuck am I doing?

I start crying.

I disassemble my weapon, take all the bullets out of the magazine, and throw everything out of the car.

I need to address this. I need to get some help.

I get diagnosed with PTSD. I start seeing a therapist full-time and get my head out of my ass. I quit binge drinking and stop smoking, which I’ve been doing since I was thirteen. I learn the importance of exercise and nutrition and taking care of myself. I begin to claw and scrape my way out of my self-loathing. I stop hating myself for everything. I stop blaming myself for my friends dying and every other shitty thing that’s ever happened to me.

I start speaking to other people about my experiences.

Over time, I start to learn to love my fate. Instead of letting it control me, send me into a deep, spiraling depression. I discover a way to turn it around for good –– to help others. If I can help one person every day, regardless of how I do it, then that’s a win for me. If I can use my experiences, my story, to help a person every single day, then everything I’ve gone through in my life is worth it.”

Hamill writes with appreciation about the honor of receiving the Purple Heart from President Barrack Obama at Walter Reed Hospital.

Cpl. Rory Hamill, a combat-wounded Marine, pauses to look at the Navy Sailor's Creed on the wall of the base gym on Joint Base McGuire-Dix-Lakehurst, N.J., Dec. 4, 2017. (U.S. Air National Guard photo by Master Sgt. Matt Hecht)

 

James Patterson, Matt Eversmann, and Chris Mooney help people tell their stories in “Walk In My Combat Boots” –– tragedies and victories, comedy and pathos. Mostly pathos, considering the sacrifices required in war.

We honor the men and women lost in war on Memorial Day. And we also remember those who gave so much in service to their country. True heroes live the values of honor, courage and commitment. They confront demons and find the truth. True patriots ensure we think of others and ask why we go to war. “Service before self.”