(On the left is SSG (R) Daniel Burgess and myself on the right.  We are in a C-17 waiting on the tarmac in Kuwait while the flight crew prepares for our flight to Bagram, Afghanistan.)

This is the second in a series about my trip to Afghanistan with Operation Proper Exit (Feherty’s Troops First Foundation).  To read the first post click here.

Kuwait was surreal. The last time I was in Camp Arifjan, Kuwait it was almost six years ago while I travelled through for my mid-tour leave. As soon as we arrived, we ate midnight chow in the same place I had eaten six years ago. When I sat my tray down on the table and looked around, it felt like I had been there just yesterday. The next day we woke up early, had chow and proceeded to do interviews and pictures. After lunch we did a town hall for over three hours with almost 1,000 soldiers. Each one of us had the opportunity to tell the crowd our stories and the lessons we learned. This is a brief summary of each man’s story.

US Navy CPT(R) Tom Feeks spoke a little about his experience in the Navy, but focused mainly on his son. Patrick Feeks was a Navy SEAL and was killed-in-action on August 12, 2012 northwest of Kandahar. CPT Feeks was the first Gold-Star parent to take part in Operation Proper Exit. Having the ability to walk the land that his son walked and see the country he died in would be a sense of closure for CPT Feeks.

(On the left is myself and on the right is USMC CPL, Brandon Rumbaugh.)

This is the first of several blog posts about my return trip to Afghanistan.

Almost six years ago after being severely wounded in combat, I cried tears of joy in my hospital bed at Brooke Army Medical Center because I knew I would never have to go back to Afghanistan again. No longer would I go to bed at night wondering if the next day would be my last. This was one of the happiest feelings of my life, but it was short lived. After a couple of months, I started thinking about Afghanistan all the time. I missed the people, culture, terrain, firefights, missions, sense of purpose and pride. Memories were invoked simply by experiencing a random sight, smell or sound. On hikes I would think about what I would do if I were ambushed. Instead of appreciating the beauty of nature, I would think abut how I could tactically use the terrain to my advantage. Every time I walked into a room, I thought about how I would clear it and what corner to take first. This was as instinctual as breathing.

I began longing for the days that I went to bed unsure of my place on earth the next day. Waking up every morning knowing that you have to earn your right to live is an awesome and terrifying way to exist. My body was in the US,

Every year more than 200,000 US service members leave the military and begin the process of transitioning to the civilian world. No matter how much you loved your time in service, the initial rush of freedom is electrifying. No more long training days, combat deployments and dress right dress. The future is bright and the opportunities are endless. As you run through all of your options, anxiety sets in because you realize that you are heading into un-charted territory without a map or a compass. That’s where Louis Fernandez and his book Conus Battle Drills comes into play.

After deploying to Afghanistan as an infantry officer and Iraq as an intelligence officer, Louis made the difficult decision to leave the Army. Like myself, at times Louis struggled with his transition. He had difficulty integrating back into society and adjusting to a new work environment.  He missed the camaraderie and purpose the military gave him. He made mistakes and learned valuable lessons along the way. For the benefit of every transitioning veteran, he recorded his journey in Conus Battle Drills: A Guide for Combat Veterans to Corporate Life, Parenthood, and Caging the Beast Inside.

Throughout the book, Louis effortlessly transitions back and forth from his time in Afghanistan and Iraq to the present day. He uses his military experiences to frame the lessons he learned during his transition. In addition to these illustrations, Louis also provides a workbook and exercises to help you create a personal roadmap for your transition.

I could never fully appreciate how one event could change the trajectory of your life until I was 27 years old and a single bullet taught me this lesson. On September 25th, 2011 my Special Forces team, better known as the Green Berets and our counter parts, the elite Afghan Commandos, were engaged in an intense firefight with hardened Taliban fighters in the mountains of northwest AFG. In the 10th hour of the firefight, while going around the corner of a building, it felt as if I had been hit in the stomach with a sledge hammer. While I was suspended in mid air, I thought to my self, “I think I have just been shot” as my body slammed off the ground, I realized that I had indeed been shot. The pain was so great I had to summon what little energy I had left just to remain conscious. I crawled back to my radio and called my teammates to let them know that I had been shot. While they desperately maneuvered under heavy fire to my position, I began trying to medically treat myself, but there was nothing I could do. Minutes felt like years while the pain pulsated through my body and I lay exposed to enemy fire. I called my teammates again to let them know how dire the situation was, but they were pinned down by heavy volumes of fire.… Read More New England Center and Home for Veterans Speech