by Paige Wetzel
Josh and I agreed that we needed to meet more amputees. With more friends came more education on what to expect and (bonus for Josh) more great war stories! Naïve like the rest of the world, we assumed everyone’s injuries were on the surface. At first, the therapist came to check on Josh every day, but Josh kept saying he was fine. But he soon realized how much he needed to talk to someone about his traumatic experiences. Josh started going to therapy every few days once we learned that his struggles were just like everyone else’s. Just listening to Josh call to set up the first therapy appointment made me realize how difficult it was for him to even admit that he had been through trauma. You’re missing legs, dude! No one would blame you for having some scary thoughts that you can’t get out of your head! Apparently, this kind of outlook was not exclusive to my husband. I still had a lot to learn about Josh, but one thing I had figured out was that Satan could pin him down with “It’s no big deal; we don’t have to talk about it.”
I wasn’t sure how, but I knew we would find growth and understanding if he would just open up to me. Josh wanted to show our followers on Facebook that he was not trying to “get back to normal.” He was embracing this new life, and he was going to be the best amputee the world had ever seen. I was so thankful for Josh’s attitude, but we were feeling things below the surface that weren’t going away on their own. Each day Josh improved meant moving away from those life-or-death days. At some point, I thought often, we aren’t just going to be surviving the next twenty-four hours. We are actually going to have to figure out our lives like the other amputees and their families. As weird as it felt at the time, there was something that suggested a great leadership opportunity. Maybe all the people who wrote us letters and reached out online would be inspired to live a more fulfilled life because of what Josh had gone through. While I would never wish this injury on the person I love most, maybe “taking up my cross” and following Jesus was not a requirement to carry a heavy burden, but rather to take the opportunity to love and lead people to heaven like Jesus did. No matter how bad it was, neither of us was being asked to suffer for the Lord for no reason. Instead, we were asked to be like Jesus and humble ourselves to be led to a greater purpose. I thought about this during my walks to the Fisher House and as I waited for Josh to get out of surgery. I promised myself that I would never ask why. Asking why was pointless, and I felt like it would set me back instead of moving forward. Rather, I wondered constantly, What will become of this?
Since being at Walter Reed, I had become somewhat of a prayer commander, a far cry from the uncertainty and awkwardness I felt before. For the previous two months, prayer had lost all of its typical religious formalities. Prayer was said in mixed company, through tears, shouts, whispers, and even with strangers. When the chaos died down, the anxiety appeared, and I found it hard to pray for something I didn’t know anything about. I wanted to support Josh, but it was hard to get specific about this. I leaned into Josh’s nana (Cathi’s mother) for wisdom. I never told her about the day-to-day PTSD moments, but I think all grandmothers know when there is more going on. I remember her saying that God really likes it when you pray His Word back to Him because His Word is always good, and it is important for any believer to understand when it applies. I wasn’t reading God’s Word. Any spare time I had was spent resting or trying to take care of things back in Washington. Even if I had my Bible and time, I wouldn’t know where to start. Then, one day, I got a letter in the mail from a friend of my family’s. It was a typical letter of encouragement, but it included a snippet from the book of James:
Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.
(1:2–4)
What? I thought to myself. Is that in the Bible?? Consider it joy when we face trials? It was against everything I believed. I thought the rules of being a Christian kept you out of trouble, thus you should avoid the trials. This says the trial is good and it will make me mature. As my gears were turning, I felt like I was starting to see the story unfold and how it would grow our faith.
I talked to Josh about this verse and asked what he thought, because in many ways Josh personifies this. He could smile when the bullets were flying or when he was hurting because it took too much out of him to cry or feel sorry for himself. We had one of our longer discussions about this and agreed on two things: We were being tested, and there was no study guide. The expected outcome of being tested without preparation is failure, but the Word of God said we were creating perseverance so we could be mature and complete. We had no idea what that looked like for us, but for the first time in our relationship, we chose to walk spiritually together in the same direction. We would pray for more clarity on how to embrace this trial because of what it could produce. Silently, I prayed for more joy for both of us, with the caveat that joy wouldn’t be pretend smiles so people wouldn’t ask us what was wrong. Maybe we could actually embrace the valley we were walking through and carry the load with both joy and honor.
And as we met more people and asked more questions, we were pleasantly surprised to find couples that were actually not miserable. Each couple had their issues, and many were in therapy, but none got in the way of the veteran’s duty to give 100 percent in recovery and the caregiver’s duty to advocate. The dudes would congregate around the same equipment during PT while the wives huddled up and talked about the latest obstacles and how to address them. Both positions never passed on an opportunity to help someone else. We became a community with a culture of asking, advising, then following up like a sister would. We didn’t just give our opinions to create conversation; we made sure we were all being treated fairly. If I wanted a second opinion on a medical decision, one of my sisters knew exactly whom to call. If one of the guys was immobilized after a surgery, a buddy was there to cut up his chicken for him. Helping one another with the day-to-day made it easier to try new things. Learning to ski, golf, play video games, and swim were bound to cause some level of embarrassment eventually, but if they were all trying together, then it would guarantee a good laugh. It felt somewhat like what new parents must feel when they see their child reach new milestones. Except I was watching my very much grown adult husband learn the basics again. We decided to figure out wheelchairs, prostheses, splints, adaptive equipment, and medication together. It was education that empowered us and kept us from being victims waiting on doctors to tell us what to do. As a unit, we set the pace for one another and made sure no one got left behind.
Josh began telling war stories every chance he could. These stories really seemed to mark a high level of awareness despite how he was feeling or how under the influence he was. His face lit up every time he told about the great things his men had done. Although these stories were not for the faint of heart, they kept him going. It was also eye-opening to read all the things that happened to Josh, not just in front of him. With his newfound friends, Josh continued to open up about his time in Afghanistan. I would play along with the presumed humor of his stories even though they all sounded terrifying. Yet all of our new acquaintances had similar “funny” experiences. It was awesome to see Josh having real conversations with people. I stayed quiet during these interactions and just enjoyed watching him talk to another veteran. As I read Josh’s journal on nights that I stayed at the Fisher House, it was nice to read the same stories he was telling the other amputees. It confirmed that all the drugs and anesthesia were not stealing his memory. However, I quickly learned that the questions about his anxiety and outbursts had to be read between the lines of this journal. If any story had an element of humor or something presumably “cool” Josh would talk about it nonstop. It was the stomach-turning entries that contained all the things he couldn’t say. For every funny entry, there was a bad entry that was more intense than the last one, which already put me in a cold sweat. The new rule for the jo
urnal was that it had to stay at the Fisher House. I did not want to be tempted to ask Josh about a certain incident, and I didn’t want to wake up in the middle of the night to him reading it. What once seemed like a book of great stories from my husband’s service soon turned into a bitter medicine that I had to take. I had to read it if I wanted to understand, but it would no longer be several pages at a time. I could only consume what I could stomach. Some days that was one or two sentences.
During the time of the following journal entry, Josh was on a weapons squad, which is the team that handles the weapons that can be carried outside of the issued M-4. However, the line squad had lost their team leader. Josh was the weapons squad team leader, so he was the choice for the move.
JOSH’S JOURNAL ENTRIES
03 MAY 2012
We have been so busy it’s nuts. We are extremely undermanned because of injuries. I am about to move back to a line squad as a team leader in training. Our rotation has been patrol, ground lock, patrol, and Force Pro classes. Every now and then we have a maintenance day… In four days, I have had ten hours of sleep.
We went on patrol today and took contact for the first time in almost a month. It was actually a really fun firefight. We were moving toward “Taliban Hill” when we took small arms fire from somewhere on the hill. We returned fire and dropped two mortars. Then we bounded up and found fighting positions in a grape field, but we didn’t really have to fire much at that point. We continued and found casings from an AK-47. When we were moving from the first village to the second village, we took fire again. Our bounding element (a.k.a. the moving element) was taking fire while we were support by fire. The problem was the bounding element had moved out of our site and we couldn’t see where the shots were coming from. SO… my element pulled the sickest flanking maneuver in the history of the Army (led by me). We moved through a poppy field to a wall covered by trees. We saw the attackers and decided to move in closer. We hopped over the wall, jumped down into some five-foot-deep grape rows and moved toward the enemy. We popped up out of nowhere and shot an RPG and the LAW while rocking the 240. After that, the firefight was pretty much over. The funniest part was when the ANA guy forgot to warn everyone, he was about to shoot an RPG and the back blast knocked Doc right on his butt. I thought he had been hit by a mortar round. I had a blast though. None of our guys got hurt.
07 MAY 2012
I never expect to get in a firefight while on ground lock. Today, I got into two. I had to move to the other two ground lock positions to fill their radios [syncing radio codes to each radio so everyone can communicate]. Everyone who wasn’t on ground lock was participating in clearing ops. This time we were clearing all of the obstacles that created dead space for the ground lock positions. When I went up to the other two positions, the rest of my platoon was to my truck’s 12:00. Me, [CPL] Navarro, and SSG Murphy had just walked up and said hello to the guys doing the clearing when we took our first contact. It was just pop shots at the bulldozer, but we unleashed the fury. I was laying down cover fire for Navarro while he was shooting 320 rounds while everyone else was contributing fire as well. Then, we got up and walked to the trucks like nothing happened. We were continuing to the other ground lock position to fill radios when we took contact again! Everyone else had already left so it was just me, Navarro, and Murphy taking contact from about 20-30 meters away! Navarro and Murphy shot the 320 while I laid down suppressive fire. Then, Navarro got the amazing idea to throw a grenade. He pulled the pin, drew back in perfect form, and… threw it 20 feet in front of us! We pulled Navarro into the divot in the road, which was hardly deep enough to cover our faces, and prayed that we didn’t get shredded with shrapnel. The grenade apparently scared off whoever was shooting at us because the contact ceased after that. We got up, told Navarro he was an idiot, got back in the truck and left.
For the next several days, the daily operations continued while we prepared for a battalion-wide clearing mission, our biggest assignment yet. All groups in our deployment would play a role in patrolling villages, gathering intelligence, looking for IEDs, and hopefully getting rid of a lot of bad guys. This mission would take 3-4 days and we would rotate which platoons went out and which ones stayed on the base. I was disappointed when we got assigned to stay behind first, but I was excited when it was finally our turn.
22 MAY 2012
We went and picked up the guys from the battalion mission yesterday. It seems they did some really good things this week. As a company, we killed a lot of Taliban… They also captured a Taliban member… While there, our company found an HME factory, a Taliban aid station, and numerous weapons and ammo. The whole time they were gone, I had a very bad feeling about their mission. I also didn’t feel good about only having 2 platoons worth of people left on the COP. We heard radio chatter about the Taliban overrunning us. They are getting braver and pushing further north in our area of operation. That excites me for our clearing mission. We are really going to do some damage to their structure… I feel as if our area is almost a stronghold for the Taliban and if we tear that apart, they will never be able to get their feet back under them. This mission, the very one in our area, is the one that will control the future.
I am also starting to miss home a lot. I miss my family. I miss American food. I still can’t decide what I want my first meal to be when I get home. I think about steak a lot or really good seafood.
26 MAY 2012
We took indirect fire twice today. The first time it hit the interpreter’s tent. It injured a couple of our best terps. Sgt. [Cody] Outcault took shrapnel to the back of the arm. It was pretty scary. The second one blew up a bunch of waters… Things are heating up before this mission.
29 MAY 2012
“The Last Supper”
It’s the night before the big mission and I am pretty nervous. I have never been this nervous about a mission before. I feel like someone is not coming home this time. The Sergeant Major asked me what my most memorable moment about this deployment was and one of the things I told him is that all of our men are still alive. I want to write a few words in case I don’t make it home…
To my family… I love you. You guys mean so much to me. You all have provided me with a great life. I just wish I could do the same. This war is going to end one day and it’s not because the Taliban is defeated. So, that threat will remain. I have had the time of my life here though. I have discovered I am somewhat of an adrenaline junkie. I have missed you all greatly. I hope I get to come home to you guys, but if I don’t and I get to go to heaven, don’t cry. Celebrate. I want people to be happy at my funeral. I want everyone from my past to be there because I know that all my new friends can build the same bonds that I have with my old ones. Friends have been what drives me through, along with the thought of coming home to my family. I love you all.
To my wife… you are my best friend. You are my everything. I know I haven’t always done the right thing, but I always loved you. I want to do good for you. I want to be the best husband for you. If I come home, I will never take that for granted again. I will treat you like the queen you are. If you ever need to know why I do this, it is because I have always wanted to do something special. Something bigger than me. Why do I fight so hard? I fight so the men to my left and right, the men who sacrificed all, can come home to their wives too. If I have to die for that to happen, then so be it. If I do, I’m sorry I didn’t fight harder to come home. But, please, be proud. Your husband will have made a great sacrifice. I love you my angel.
If I don’t make it back, my friend “Doc” is supposed to send this home and then finish it. This is my book. This is my memory. I hope I get to finish it.
Dear God, this is my prayer to you: You are a wonderful and almighty God. You have provided me with so much. Please take care of my family. Give them happiness. Most of all, I pray that if I don’t make it home You will ease their pain. I pray that if I have to die, it’s in the place of another man. I pray for my wonderful wife. I thank you for blessi
ng me so wonderfully. Lord, if I don’t make it, I pray for her heart. I pray the joy and love never leave it. I pray that she uses her heart to lead people to You and love others, even if no one else loves them. I pray she can love again and that she can one day have children, whether it be with me or someone else. I pray that you tell her I love her and I will never stop.
CHAPTER SEVEN
PATHS NOT TAKEN
Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.
—Proverbs 3:5
PAIGE
I closed Josh’s journal and retreated under the covers as I read the last journal entry before Josh’s injury. All this time I had assumed Josh approached this day like any other day. I assumed he got scared but never to a point that he would be prompted to write a goodbye letter to me. It confirmed the fear he had before he left for Afghanistan. My heart broke for him. I couldn’t imagine what it took for Josh Wetzel, the guy who doesn’t even worry about the bad stuff, to listen to his intuition and write down his final words. Two days later he would by lying on the ground fighting for his life… just like he thought. It was an unbearable thought even though I knew how it turned out. But I still wanted to comfort him more than I ever had before when I closed his journal. However, I was at the Fisher House that night, and I wouldn’t dare wake him up to discuss something like this. Instead, I thanked God for preparing his heart, saving his life, and allowing me to read this journal. Then, I cried myself to sleep.
When I got back to his hospital room the next morning, I greeted him with a hug and misty eyes. I told him that I had finished reading his journal, and that’s all we ever spoke of it. The tears were of both empathy and admiration. While his last entry shook me to my core, I loved that his attitude never swayed from feeling chosen for this. If it saved someone else or took someone’s place, it was all worth it. If this was pre-injury, then post-injury Josh had a lot of potential.