Iraq: Taking Home The Feet I Felt Comfortable In

Before I joined the military I defined a ‘hero’ as someone who inspires someone to do something great with his or her life. Since the military had done good things for my family and friends, I chose to see what it could do for me.

I knew the risks that were involved, and to be very honest with you, I'm not sure I really paid attention to it. I joined because I saw it as my way out, and I never really cared what could possibly stand in my way; I would take those obstacles on when it came time to, and not a second sooner.

I had never really paid much attention to politics and what was going on with the country. In all honesty, I lived a pretty selfish existence before I joined the army. I was involved in my friends' and my family’s lives. That was pretty much it.

Reality Check

When I first set boots in Iraq we had been ushered directly from the plane to a bus, only to find out that we had about 10 minutes to get off the bus to stretch and relax for a little bit.

I was standing in a circle of guys that were smoking cigarettes. I bummed a light and looked down at the ground, kicked the dirt around with my right foot and it hit me. I said, "Holy shit... we're in the desert. This is freaking cool."

I was injured on November 24, 2005. I ended up losing my foot in the blast and had my other foot and lower leg amputated at the end of the following February.

I do not have any true personal memory of the day of the blast.