Category sponsored by Roger Combs & Bob Springer

1st Place: SSgt. Ethan Rocke, Los Angeles Public Affairs
“Scars are not Forever” was about Operation Mend, a program for treatment and rehabilitation, in this case involving its first patient, Cpl Aaron Mankin, a Marine combat correspondent seriously wounded in Iraq. Rocke’s story reports in detail on the innovative partnership between military and civilian medicine.

2nd Place: Sgt. Ray Lewis, 1st Marine Division

Honorable Mention: LCpl. Katie Mathison, II MEF

Winning stories are published below

1st Place: SSgt. Ethan Rocke, Los Angeles Public Affairs

Scars are not forever

It was an ideal. A mantra. One of those romantic assertions that grabs hold the heart and muses in the soul the question: What if? “Scars are not forever” was conceived for one Marine in the months of rehabilitation that followed an IED blast in Iraq, which left him badly burned and disfigured. Since then, the spirit of that ideal has evolved into an innovative partnership between military and civilian medicine that is actualizing, for some, that once rhetorical question: What if?

Aaron Mankin lay still on an operating table, bright halogen bulbs spilling light over every bit of his fire-scarred face: closed eyes placid with unconsciousness, relaxed jaw peeking out from the fissure between rich, disfigured lip tissue, an incision on the right side of his nose stretching the length of it.

The ordered bustle of the operating room lay outside, far above the anesthesia.

There, Dr. Timothy Miller, chief of reconstructive and plastic surgery at the University of California, Los Angeles Medical Center, looks down at Mankin’s face and focuses.

Coolly marking Mankin’s face with a pen earlier, Miller had described the goals of the procedure, Mankin acknowledging with a characteristic smile and nod – a gesture of enduring trust in the man whose scalpel has been to Mankin’s face what da Vinci’s brush was to his Mona Lisa.
“I take your pictures home with me, ya’ know?” Miller said during the examination, referring to the dozens of photos he uses to track and plot the evolution of Mankin’s face before and after operating on it a dozen times.

Mankin reached to his throat to close the airway of his tracheostomy and push the air from his lungs up through his damaged vocal chords. 
“Oh yeah?” he said, his soft, raspy voice contrasting smiling, wide eyes.

“Oh yeah,” Miller said, looking to Mankin’s mother, Diana Phelps, and nodding with a smile. “I do, really.”

This is Mankin’s twelfth surgery under Miller’s hands – “magic hands,” say some of his coworkers and patients. The lofty, soothing melody of Frank Sinatra’s “Fly Me to the Moon” wafts in the operating room as Miller makes a precise and gentle sawing motion with his tiny scalpel, a handful of doctors and nurses looking on. He trims away unnecessary flesh from beneath Mankin’s nose – the nose he built with cranial bone and skin from Mankin’s forehead.

That was the first step. Now Miller needs to thin it out, make it better resemble Mankin’s old nose, the one he had before an explosion in Iraq left him badly burned about his arms and face – the nose from the pictures of the handsome, slender Arkansas boy with that coy twinkle of charisma. Miller takes to the task with the enthusiasm of an inspired artist.

“(These service members) have given a tremendous amount of their lives to me and my family,” Miller says. “If I can give something back to them, it’s very gratifying.”

The thin, boyish features Mankin inherited were supplanted May 11, 2005. Then Lance Cpl. Mankin was a Marine combat correspondent assigned to cover Operation Matador, a roughly weeklong mission to root out insurgents near the Syrian border north of the Euphrates River. Mankin was riding in an amphibious assault vehicle when a massive explosion from a roadside bomb rocked the 26-ton vehicle.

The violent blast threw Mankin down inside the vehicle. When the instant haze of chaos and concussion cleared, Mankin opened his eyes. He was on fire.

“The instinctive reaction at that point is to just gasp,” recalls the 26-year-old father of two. “That’s how I sustained most of my trachea injuries. I saw light at the back of the vehicle and just dove toward this dry, crusted earth. I rolled trying to get the fire out but couldn’t do it. I was exhausted, and I just closed my eyes and was ready to die. That’s when I heard the shouts of my fellow Marines saying ‘Put him out! Put him out!’”

The incident left Mankin with 25 percent of his body burned. His genetic predisposition to generate unusually high amounts of scar tissue caused his facial features to gradually contort, eventually twisting and fusing his nose and mouth area so much that his mouth shrank to a tiny, taut opening about an inch below an asymmetrical half-nose that, without its natural tip, displayed irregularly large nostrils and an upturned look.  
“Initially, Aaron’s face looked normal,” says his mother. “There were no visible wounds. And then it began to draw in and tighten up. I had to use a small funnel to feed him.”

Phelps helped care for her son for the first eight months he was a patient at Brooke Army Medical Center at Fort Sam Houston, Texas, where all of the U.S. military’s burn victims go for treatment. “BAM-C,” to which it is often affectionately referred, is one of the nation’s premiere trauma centers for burn victims, both military and civilian.

The hospital has cared for more than 4,043 service members wounded in the War on Terror, and the Army Burn Center there has treated 731 of those, according to hospital officials.

Mankin underwent about 40 surgeries at BAMC, including myriad skin grafts and an operation to open his mouth back up so he could eat normally.

But, according to Phelps, the limits of the medical center’s capabilities became apparent when the care required became a matter of aesthetics rather than physical rehabilitation.

“The doctors at Brooke are fantastic, but their focus is on function, not aesthetics,” she says.

President Bush has expanded the Defense Department’s healthcare funding by more than 200 percent since 2001, and the military has made many advances in military medicine and healthcare infrastructure since the War on Terror began. But until recently, the military could not provide extensive reconstructive surgeries to its members.

General James F. Amos, assistant commandant of the Marine Corps, is among senior leadership at the Pentagon that has been at the forefront of the military’s recent efforts to address the shortfall.

“We’ve made great gains in recent years in expanding our continuity of care for wounded warriors, but change comes slow,” Amos says.
But in October 2007, the military’s slow, steady trend in healthcare advancement got sent into overdrive in the field of reconstructive surgery. The catalyst was an injection into the system from outside the government.

The prospect was revolutionary: One of the nation’s top hospitals offering up the services of its world-class, plastic reconstructive surgeons – no charge. It was exactly what the military needed to quickly bridge the gap between function and aesthetics for its disfigured warriors.

The man carrying the torch to the military was philanthropist Ronald A. Katz, a successful inventor and UCLA Medical Center board member.
“The concept was simple,” Katz says. “Why couldn’t we provide to these wounded service members not only the best medical care the military had to offer but the best the country could offer?”

Military leadership at BAMC and the Pentagon agreed, and a partnership was forged between the military and UCLA Medical Center, which U.S. News & World Report ranks as one of the top three hospitals in the nation and the top hospital in the western U.S. The partnership has since become known as Operation Mend.

In October 2007, Mankin became Operation Mend’s first patient. He was also, in large part, the inspiration for the program, according to Katz.
Katz and his wife, Madelyn, became involved with BAMC in 2006 when fundraiser and avid proponent of military and veterans’ causes Bill White invited the Katzes to San Antonio. Katz donated the lead gift at that time to a privately-funded project that brought to Fort Sam Houston in January 2007 two new Fisher Houses, which house families of wounded service members receiving treatment at BAMC.

“My wife and I visited the burn ward at Brooke, and we were particularly distressed by the number of facially disfigured service members,” Katz says.

A pivotal moment in Operation Mend’s conception occurred when Katz and his wife watched Mankin, whose charismatic personality and affinity for public speaking has attracted media attention and thrust Mankin into the limelight, on CNN in an interview with Lou Dobbs in November 2006.

“Lou asked Aaron, ‘What’s next for you?’” says Katz. “And Aaron said, ‘They’ve gotta’ fix the beautiful part … get me back to good looking.’ That really struck us.”

Katz says Mankin’s image and words that day were the beginning, but a final call to action came when the Katzes attended in January 2007 the opening ceremony for the Center for the Intrepid, a state-of-the-art physical rehabilitation center for amputees and burn victims adjacent to BAMC, and the new Fisher Houses, which Katz’s donations helped build. There were many disfigured service members at the ceremony. 

“Seeing Aaron planted the seed, but seeing how many Aarons there are was the key,” Katz says. “At that point, we decided we should connect military commanders and my connections at UCLA.”

Katz says it took about six months to marry up the bureaucracies of BAMC and UCLA, and as the details of the partnership were worked out, Katz’s resolve and passion for the program became infectious within UCLA’s medical community.

“Once the program was announced, the byproduct was a wellspring of enthusiasm from people within the hospital to do something extraordinary for these service members,” he says. “The program is really two parts: medical care and personal care.”

Katz donated the first $1 million to fund Operation Mend and helped raise more than $10 million more. The private funds cover the costs of the surgeries as well as travel expenses for patients and their families, lodging, a living allowance and any extra medical expenses. The military’s health insurance provider, Tricare, covers the cost of hospitalization for patients. 

“Although it’s expensive at our end, it’s a blessing to be able to use these funds to make such a difference in the lives of these soldiers and Marines,” Katz says. 

Volunteers within UCLA’s medical community also provide patients with what Katz calls “buddy families.” Katz’s son Todd, his wife Dana and their children are the premier buddy family, providing friendship and support to Mankin, his wife Diana and their children during Mankin’s 12 trips to UCLA. Dana also oversees and coordinates the buddy family program.

“Everyone is compelled by the cause,” Dana says. “The CEO of UCLA Medical Center, called us and said, ‘Can we be a buddy family?’ When the CEO wants to be a buddy family, that’s not your typical bureaucracy.”

UCLA nurse Priscilla “Patti” Taylor, a retired Army nurse, also leads a community group of military veterans who sew “quilts of valor” for incoming patients.

Army Vice Chief of Staff Gen. Peter W. Chiarelli and Gen. Amos, the Corps’ second in command, have both visited Katz and other UCLA officials in recent months to talk about expanding Operation Mend. 

“Programs like Operation Mend have shown us that sometimes the private sector can inject a capability into the system that we don’t have,” Amos says.

Katz says it is his hope that Operation Mend will expand beyond plastic reconstructive surgery.

“Fortunately, UCLA has extraordinary talents in many areas,” he says. “Our hope is that we will involve ourselves with other DoD hospitals that care for patients other than burn victims. If they need certain expertise that we can provide, we think UCLA has a lot to offer.”
In the meantime, Katz says Operation Mend currently has the funding and resources to continue providing reconstructive surgeries to any service members who need them, and he hopes to see other hospitals follow UCLA’s lead.

“We’re not the only place in the world that has extraordinary capabilities and talents,” he says. “I think in the next year or so, there is a possibility that this could expand to other medical centers of excellence, and if they need guidance, we can transport that to them.”
Amos says if other hospitals in the private sector are willing to further expand the care the military can provide, “We are more than ready to embrace that willingness and build a partnership.

“The Marine Corps and the DoD are fully committed to providing world-class care to our wounded warriors, but there is always room for improvement, and there may, in certain areas, be limitations to what military medicine can provide.” 
Operation Mend has provided 43 surgeries to seven soldiers and Marines since October 2007, and 10 more patients are currently scheduled to undergo surgery in 2009, according to UCLA officials.

Mankin and his mother tried to express what those numbers mean to the people whose lives they affect.

“Early on in my recovery I adopted the notion that ‘scars are not forever’ as a mindset,” Mankin says. “It was an articulation of my acceptance that this is the way I’m going to look for the rest of my life, and, with that, I’m not going to let my physical appearance keep me from being who I am and reaching the goals I set for myself. 

“That mindset evolved when individuals from the other side of the nation opened up their hearts and their homes and said to me, ‘This is a reality we can give to you.’ And for them to seek me out and ask, ‘Can we do this for you?’ is an overwhelming blessing and I think speaks to the true spirit of the American people.”

Choking up, Phelps echoed her son’s sentiment, “There’s not a deep enough place inside me that could explain the gratitude for what they’ve given and what they’ve done and what they’re doing, not just for Aaron, but for everyone. There’s not a deep enough place.”

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2nd Place: Sgt. Ray Lewis, 1st Marine Division

Marine amputee returns to combat after near death experience

CAMP BARBER, Helmand Province, Afghanistan —  There was blood in the water. It was a grim addition to the Iraqi sewage canal usually littered with dead sheep and festering fish.

That’s where the Marines of Company E, 2d Battalion, 7th Marine Regiment, 1st Marine Division found their comrade after the attack.
Just seconds before, Cpl. Garrett S. Jones was patrolling the streets of Iraq with his team when he was suddenly hurled 15 feet into the air by an enemy booby trap.

“It was just a big dust cloud,” said Cpl. Robert C. Pofahl, who stood 10 feet in front of Jones when the bomb detonated. “I ran toward him, and I fell in the canal. The mud was almost up to my knees. It was probably the worst smell you could smell. That’s when I saw the blood in the water.”
When Pofahl saw Jones lying there, he feared his friend’s life was cut short.  Barely alive, Jones’ life was about to be changed forever.

Pofahl remembers an explosion, tumbling forward, turning back around and hearing Jones yell at the top of his lungs. He then raced to put a tourniquet on Jones’ mangled bloody left leg.

“It sounded like I was whispering and because of the explosion, I couldn’t catch my breath,” Jones said.
When Pofahl arrived at Jones’ position, he realized he couldn’t lift him out of the canal. The muddy water almost made it impossible for Pofahl to grab a hold of Jones.  So, he called two other Marines to help pull Jones out.

“We got him up on the side of the road,” Pofahl said. “That’s when Navy Hospitalman Matthew Beceda took over.  He cranked the tourniquet one more time, but it snapped.  So he had to put another tourniquet on Jones.” 

Jones was stable, but the Marines couldn’t call for help because the radio that Jones was wearing was ruined from the blast.  They sent three other Marines from the squad to run 1,200 meters back to their combat outpost for help. A group of Marines stayed with Jones and his squad leader who was also injured by the blast.

The next thing Jones knew, he was on board a helicopter flight headed for the Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in Germany.  He was strapped into a gurney with a military chaplain hovering over him.

“The chaplain asked me if I wanted to pray,” said Jones, a 23-year-old Newberg, Ore., native. “We prayed.  Then the doctor told me my left leg would be amputated above the knee.”

Shortly after, Jones was in surgery.  He awoke a couple days later, but said he doesn’t recall much after the operation but a phone conversation with his relatives.

“I just remember talking to my family,” he said. “I remember saying, ‘I hear they make really good prosthetics.’”

Upon leaving the hospital in Germany, Jones was once again strapped into a gurney and flown to the National Naval Medical Center in Bethesda, Md., where his wounds were cleansed and torn flesh was removed from his body. 

 “It seemed like forever,” Jones said. “I had a bunch of tubes stuck in me. I was so drugged up I didn’t feel much of anything.  I don’t remember much, but I do remember that one of my buddies who was shot by a sniper was also on the same flight.  I didn’t know what happened to him, I just saw that he had a bunch of tubes stuck in his chest.”

Military medical officials then transferred Jones to Naval Medical Center San Diego (NMCSD) for further treatment.  As a result of being restricted to a hospital bed, Jones wound up losing a lot of weight.

“I went from about 160 to 120 lbs.,” Jones said. “I was in the bed almost all the time.  The only time I got up was to do stretching and go to the bathroom. If I wasn’t in my bed, I was in a wheelchair.”

During his recovery, Jones had a total of 17 surgeries to clean the infected area in his left leg.  He was treated for third-degree burns and shrapnel that peppered his left shoulder and both legs.

On Aug. 20, 2007, Jones was released from NMCSD — just in time to see his fellow Marines of Echo Company return home from Iraq.

“I was at their homecoming in a wheelchair completely drugged up,” Jones said. “Seeing my guys was emotional for me because we were all so close, and I knew I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for them. When we all get together, it’s like a family reunion.  We’re a tight-knit group.  We had difficulties at times, but what family doesn’t.”

Jones yearned to be back with his Marine family. Although he didn’t say it, he kept in mind that he one day wanted to serve with the Marines who saved his life.

 “We all wanted him back,” Pofahl said.  “He’s a good guy to have your back. He’d take the shirt off of his back if you need it.  At the same time, we were like, ‘How would he be able to do that because of rehab and all.’”

In the meantime, Jones continued his appointments.  In November, he finally linked up with a prosthetist who would help him become familiar with the functions of prosthetics.  The prosthetist fit Jones for a total of six walking prosthetics and one snowboarding prosthetic.

An avid fan of snowboarding, Jones realized his potential during a snowboarding trip to Breckenridge, Colo., with fellow wounded warriors from NMCSD and his sister, Sara, in early December 2007.  Although Jones had only been on his new prosthetic for two weeks, he was eager to go snowboarding — a passion of his for more than 15 years.

“The first day, I was able to make it down the mountain,” Jones said. “As the days progressed, I got stronger and more confident on my snowboard.”

Surprisingly, all of the snowboarding helped him deaden some of the nerve endings in his left leg.  It also helped him become more accustomed to walking on his prosthetic leg.

“Once I knew I could snowboard again, I realized I was going to be able to do a lot more than just snowboard,” Jones said. “I was like, ‘If I could snowboard, who knows what else I can do?’  It kind of opened my mind up to all the other possibilities.”

Meanwhile, Jones continued his daily physical therapy, stretching, and prosthetic appointments at NMCSD.

“I just kept thinking about my next snowboard trip and getting back to 2/7 ASAP,” Jones said.

Later, in February 2008, Jones was visited by Commandant of the Marine Corps Gen. James T. Conway.  Seizing the moment of this rare opportunity, he asked the Marine commander for orders to return to the Marine Corps Air Ground Combat Training Center at Twentynine Palms, Calif., so he could once again serve with 2/7.

“I asked to come back to 2/7, and his assistant took my info,” Jones explained. “And, a couple of days later, I had orders back to 2/7.  I was so excited I almost didn’t believe it.”

When Jones checked back into his battalion, many of the Marines were awestruck.  They couldn’t believe how much progress he had made on a prosthetic leg in less than a year.

 “None of us knew how advanced prosthetics were,” Pofahl said. “He’s been called a walking legend, literally.  We’re all glad to have him around.  He’s a really positive and hard worker; one of those guys who don’t let anything get to him, obviously,” Pofahl said.

Although Jones couldn’t return to the infantry, he was able to serve in other sections within the battalion and was subsequently assigned to the intelligence section where he is relied upon to provide his fellow infantrymen with vital information that can aid in keeping them away from harmful situations.

“At first I didn’t know what I was able to do,” Jones said. “It’s good to be able to do something that will keep Marines safe.  Although I can’t be out there with them, I get to directly help them.”

Jones wanted to deploy with his unit when it was ordered to deploy to Afghanistan in April 2008.  But, he wasn’t yet ready to undergo the intense Mojave Viper pre-deployment training.  Regardless, he would get no handouts despite being a new amputee.  Realizing he is still a Marine, he knew he would have to prove himself all over again.

“It wasn’t just a hookup,” Jones said. “I had to do all the training all other Marines do.”

Jones participated in “humvee” scenarios, close quarters combat drills, survival training, machine gun packages, combat life saver courses, and several other pre-deployment courses.  Although he had gone through this training before, this was his first time enduring it as an amputee.

 “My leg popped off a couple of times in the humvee scenario and once when I was leaving a range,” Jones said. “I thought it was funny because ‘How many guys walk around with combat loads and have a leg fall off?’  I still did it to prove that I could deploy as an amputee.”

Once all physical and administrative requirements were complete, Jones was ready to deploy and help the Marines who once helped him.

 “I love being with the guys, the same people.  I really do,” Jones said. “If it wasn’t for the guys in this unit, I wouldn’t be here.  It’s an honor to serve with them and be in a place where many Marines don’t get a chance to go.”

Recovering in just nine months, Jones has become the fastest recuperating amputee to deploy to a combat zone.  Still, many people have doubted his ability to survive a seven-month deployment on a prosthetic limb.

“A lot a people were skeptical of me because I’m a new amputee,” Jones said. “It’s been a little bit of a challenge for me, mentally at first. People were saying, ‘Its going to be hard and I can’t do it.’ So, being out here was a confidence builder.”

Jones still struggles with walking.  He said it takes a lot of energy to walk in combat boots for 14 hours a day with all the sweating, straining and refitting inside of his prosthetic leg.

He said he will always feel slight discomfort on his left leg because of nerve and bone growth along the skin line of his amputated leg.  But, he considers it a small price to pay when comparing it to losing a life.

“We’re talking about a guy who almost died in battle and came back to a similar fight,” said Sgt. Paul E. Savage, an intelligence specialist and Boston, Mass., native. “The fact that it didn’t scare him to come back to his buddies truly speaks volumes of Cpl. Jones’ character.”

Jones said he wants to stay in the Marine Corps because he enjoys serving in such a loyal organization.  The career retention specialist (CRS) has even submitted a permanent limited duty (PLD) package so he can continue his military career.

 “Everyone here has been supportive in helping me get this reenlistment package started.  The CRS submitted a PLD package for me back in March 2008.  We are still waiting on that to be finished,” said a hopeful Jones, expressing how he felt about returning to serve with 2/7.  “A lot of people are like family here.  I guess that’s partly why I’m so happy to be here.”

Despite his abrupt loss of limb, Jones remains upbeat and always keeps his peers in high spirits.

 “He’s always motivated,” said Gunnery Sgt. Michael J. Ortiz, battalion intelligence chief and Miami, Fla., native.  “His morale is always high.  The only time I see him upset is when he sees someone hurt or killed because he takes it personal.  But, he always bounces back and visits whoever it is in the hospital to see how they are.”

Jones said he personally meets with new amputees to show them there is “light at the end of the ‘canal.’”  He wants them to know just because they are an amputee, it doesn’t mean that they can’t reach their goals.

“I’ve told them to keep their head up,” Jones said. “I want to show them that if I can do it, they can do it. I want to set the example for other amputees. I want to show them that a bad thing might happen, but you can still make good of bad circumstances.”

Jones’ co-workers all feel that his commitment shows he has authentic concern for his Marines.  He also has kept in contact with many wounded warriors when they returned home to the U.S.

“He doesn’t know a lot of these Marines, but he doesn’t care. I know he’s made multiple calls to amputees’ doctors to check on how they’re doing. I think it’s awesome that he does that. It shows that he genuinely cares about his Marines,” Ortiz said.

Jones is the first Marine with an above-the-knee amputation to deploy to Afghanistan.  There have not been many of these amputees to redeploy to a combat zone to date.

“Ninety percent of the guys in his situation would have likely walked away with their disability and called it a day,” Savage said. “But, he’s still striving to make a point and it’s remarkable.”

Jones continues to push his personal, mental and physical limits. When he returns to the U.S., he wants to train in Utah in early December and represent the Marine Corps in adaptive snowboarding. Competitions will be held in Colorado, Canada, and possibly Italy. He said the competitions will help him prepare to compete in the 2010 Paralympics for snowboarding in Vancouver, Canada.

Corporal Jones wants to continue serving with the 1st Marine Division as an intelligence specialist.  He also wants to keep helping fellow amputees continue their service in the Marine Corps.  He said he is sending a letter to the commandant entitled, “Back on their Feet and Back in the Fleet.”  The letter entails getting PLD packages completed for more wounded Marines in a timelier manner for those who desire to stay in the Marine Corps.

“Just because you have an injury, it doesn’t mean you have to leave the Marine Corps,” Jones said.  “You just have to work hard. I want to let those guys know back in the States that there is a place for you.  I plan on being one of those examples.”

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Honorable Mention: LCpl. Katie Mathison, II MEF

Marine continues on with one leg

MARINE CORPS BASE CAMP LEJEUNE, N.C.– He faded in and out of consciousness. He knew his legs were injured, but he did not know to what extent.

Capt. Ray Baronie, the executive officer for the Wounded Warrior Battalion-East, Wounded Warrior Regiment, Manpower and Reserve Affairs, has few clear memories of his hospital stays overseas. One of the things he remembers is watching the doctors cut off his boots, as they talked about amputation. 

 Baronie, at the time, a liason officer between the Iraqi Security Forces and the Marines of II Marine Expeditionary Force (Forward), was on a U.S. Army convoy moving an Iraqi battalion from one side of Ramadi, Iraq, to the other, when his vehicle was struck by a 57 mm anti-tank rocket, Dec. 1, 2005.

 “I got knocked out and when I came to, the vehicle had rolled for two blocks,” he said. “There were just two Marines on the convoy, Sergeant Delwin Davis and myself. Sergeant Davis pulled me out of the vehicle.”

 Baronie was free from the vehicle, but far from safe.

 “Very shortly after we got on the street, we started taking small arms fire,” he said. “It was a weird feeling. I didn’t know if I was going to make it. For the first time as a Marine, I felt helpless. It was pretty hectic. I had no control over the situation at that point, but I knew I was in good hands with Sergeant Davis.”

 Baronie said he knew his legs were injured, but did not know the full extent of his injuries until he woke up in the Naval Hospital in Bethesda, Md.

 “My legs were crushed,” Baronie said. “I had 20 fractures in my left leg and 18 fractures in my right. I had close to 40 surgeries.”

 Baronie found the strength to overcome his injury through the support of his family and the Marine Corps.

 “My father and my fiancee were with me,” he said. “The Marine Corps did an excellent job of taking care of me. They took care of my girlfriend even though we weren’t married. The Marine Corps knew I needed her support and that was very important.”

 The support he received helped him make the otherwise hard decision to have his right leg amputated above the knee during January 2006, after a year of trying to save it.

 The amputation did not stop him from wanting to continue his career, but he was unsure what path he would take until he received a fateful phone call.

 “I was in Bethesda when Lieutenant Colonel Thomas Siebenthal gave me a phone call,” he said. “He needed a battalion executive officer, and I thought, ‘I need to take this position.’” 

 Being the executive officer of a battalion is hard enough, let alone a brand new battalion still trying to find its place, said Master Sgt. Kenneth Barnes, the operations chief for the battalion.

 “He came here and had to drink from the fire hose just like everyone else,” Barnes said. “He was wounded, so he knew about half of it. That makes it a little bit easier for him.”

 His injuries also allow him to empathize with the Marines in the battalion, giving him insight someone without injuries might not have.
 “He’s great at his job,” Barnes said. “His heart is really in it. A Marine can come in with his sob story, and all he has to do is stand up and show them they can get through it. It also makes it harder for someone to pull the wool over his eyes.”

 The job goes both ways for Baronie. Being able to help Marines with their injuries is also therapeutic.

 “Everyone has their own way of dealing with their injuries,” he explained. “Sometimes they need a little guidance in the right direction, tough love or to talk one-on-one. My injury gives me credibility with the Marines. It’s given me the ability to deal with their individual needs. Working with the Marines and being back to work has greatly helped me. Being in this position has made me forget the fact I am hurt.”

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