"We are in a life-and-death struggle, but not our whole country. One percent of Americans are touched by this war. Then there is a much smaller club of families who have given all."

Lt. Gen. John Kelly, who lost son to war, says U.S. largely unaware of sacrifice


By Greg Jaffe
Washington Post Staff Writer
Wednesday, March 2, 2011; 12:00 AM

Before he addressed the crowd that had assembled in the St. Louis Hyatt Regency ballroom last November, Lt. Gen. John F. Kelly had one request. "Please don't mention my son," he asked the Marine Corps officer introducing him.

Four days earlier, 2nd Lt. Robert M. Kelly , 29, had stepped on a land mine while leading a platoon of Marines in southern Afghanistan. He was killed instantly.

Without once referring to his son's death, the general delivered a passionate and at times angry speech about the military's sacrifices and its troops' growing sense of isolation from society.

"Their struggle is your struggle," he told the ballroom crowd of former Marines and local business people. "If anyone thinks you can somehow thank them for their service, and not support the cause for which they fight - our country - these people are lying to themselves. . . . More important, they are slighting our warriors and mocking their commitment to this nation."

Kelly is the most senior U.S. military officer to lose a son or daughter in Iraq or Afghanistan. He was giving voice to a growing concern among soldiers and Marines: The American public is largely unaware of the price its military pays to fight the United States' distant conflicts. Less than 1 percent of the population serves in uniform at a time when the country is engaged in one of the longest periods of sustained combat in its history.

President Obama devoted only six sentences to the war in Afghanistan in his State of the Union address in January. The 25-second standing ovation that lawmakers lavished on the troops lasted almost as long as the president's war remarks.

Kelly has largely shunned public attention since his speech and his son's death. He discussed his speech and his son to provide insight into the lives and the burdens of military families.

"We are only one of 5,500 American families who have suffered the loss of a child in this war," he said in an e-mail. "The death of my boy simply cannot be made to seem any more tragic than the others."

On Tuesday, Defense Secretary Robert M. Gates said he had nominated Kelly to be his senior military assistant, a powerful position by virtue of its minute-by-minute proximity to the Pentagon chief. He would serve as a key liaison between the defense secretary and the top brass.

As in many military families, Kelly's two sons followed their father into the Marine Corps. The three Kelly men have participated in 11 combat tours in Iraq and Afghanistan over the past decade.

As one retired Marine Corps general noted in a condolence letter to Kelly a few days after his son's death: "Service to and sacrifice for the nation have become a legacy affair for a relatively small number of families."

'Living on luck'

A few days after graduating from Florida State University in 2003, Robert Kelly surprised his family by enlisting in the Marine Corps. His elder brother, John, had joined as an officer two years earlier. Their father was leading Marines in Iraq.

The war was something new in early 2003, and like most Americans, Robert had spent the spring glued to the live television coverage of U.S. tanks converging on Baghdad.

One year later, Robert was a private first class fighting house to house in the battle for Fallujah, the largest and bloodiest urban battle for U.S. troops since Vietnam.

On the night the offensive began, the elder Kelly came home early from work and urged his wife to steel herself for the worst. "Robert is right in the middle of it," he told her.

Robert emerged from the three-week assault physically unscathed, but shaken by the violence. Six Marines in his 150-man company were killed, three dozen were wounded and the rest suffered a psychological toll. By this point, the war was no longer being beamed home to the United States on cable television.

"It was weird to read mail again, a reminder that other people's lives go on while I am here," he wrote in a letter dated Nov. 19, 2004, to his best friend from high school. "Things have not been going so well. I am having a lot of trouble dealing with this [expletive]. It is hard to explain right now. . . . I just want to go home and see my family and friends. I really want to sit down with my dad and talk."

Robert told his father that he was especially bothered by an incident in which his platoon was taking fire from insurgents in an underground bunker. The Marines' interpreter screamed at them to surrender. When they continued to shoot, Robert's unit used explosives to blow them out of the bunker.

"He mentioned that it must have been a horrible way to die," his father recalled. "It wasn't as clean as he thought it would be. He felt bad about the whole thing, and I told him that was human."

In 2008, Robert moved from the enlisted to the officer ranks and was commissioned as a second lieutenant. Because his father was deployed as commander of U.S. forces in western Iraq, Robert's brother administered the oath. The change meant Robert would be responsible for the lives of three-dozen Marines.

Robert, who inherited his father's prominent nose, bushy eyebrows and sly smile, was seven years older than most second lieutenants and one of the few platoon leaders in his brigade with combat experience.

Before his platoon deployed last September, Robert sent a blast e-mail to his friends and family. If people were wondering what to put in care packages, batteries, wet wipes and protein bars were best, he wrote. A simple letter from home was "always welcome."

Mostly, though, he wanted his friends and family to care about a war that had largely faded from the public's consciousness. The midterm congressional elections were only a month away. Hardly any candidates were talking about Afghanistan. Less than 2 percent of voters rated it their top issue.

"Try to keep your eye on the news," Robert wrote from Camp Pendleton, Calif. "It will be good to know that people are paying attention to what the 32 Marines with me will be accomplishing."

Robert's platoon occupied an isolated patrol base in Sangin district, an area where British forces had been losing ground to the Taliban. Soldiers and Marines at larger established bases speak to their families almost daily on cellphones. At Robert's isolated patrol base, there was no cellphone coverage or Internet service, just "ammo and big rats," he said in a rare letter home.

Throughout the fall, his 1,000-man battalion took part in some of the most intense fighting of the 10-year-old war, killing dozens of Taliban and slowly pushing them back. Robert's father followed his son's battalion over the Pentagon's classified Internet.

"I know you guys have taken some licks in the last few days," the elder Kelly wrote in a letter dated Oct. 15. As a platoon commander, Robert was now responsible for every patrol that left the base. Kelly knew it was an enormous burden.

"Robert you will likely lose one or more of your precious Marines if you haven't already," the elder Kelly continued. "Do not let the men mope or dwell on the loss. . . .Do not let them ever enjoy the killing or hate their enemy. It is impossible to take the emotion out of it, but try and keep it as impersonal and mechanical as you can. The Taliban have their job to do and we have ours. That's it. . . . Combat is so inhumane; you must help your men maintain their humanity as well as their sense of perspective and proportion."

On the day Kelly mailed the letter to his son, Lance Cpl. Colin Faust, one of Robert's Marines, stepped on a land mine and lost part of his left leg. The next day, a sergeant in Robert's platoon was killed and a lance corporal lost his right arm when a land mine detonated under them.

On Oct. 19, Robert's commanders brought satellite phones to his remote base so he and his Marines could talk to their increasingly anxious spouses. In 2007, Robert had married his girlfriend, Heather, who had asked him to a "Kappa Krush" sorority party during his senior year of college. She had stuck with him through boot camp, an Iraq tour and a seven-month sea tour in 2006. This was their first deployment as a married couple.

Robert's call from Sangin kept being dropped, so Heather ran out to the driveway hoping for better reception. He quickly told her to call his father and ask him to check in on two of his Marines who had just arrived at the National Naval Medical Center in Bethesda.

The elder Kelly and Robert's sister, Kathleen, had been making almost daily trips to visit Marines from Robert's unit. Second Lt. Cameron West, one of Robert's closest friends from his battalion, was still in intensive care when Kelly first visited him. West's right leg was gone and his eye was bandaged shut. He had just woken after being unconscious for six days.

Heather, who had been to West's apartment at Camp Pendleton, mentioned that he liked John Wayne memorabilia. So in late October, the elder Kelly bought him a fleece John Wayne blanket for his hospital bed.

In his last calls home, on Oct. 29, Robert sought to ease his family's growing worry. His platoon had flown into one of the larger forward operating bases to attend a memorial service for one of his Marines who had been killed a week earlier. Robert pressed his mother and sister for updates on his Marines at Bethesda.

He even managed to reach 2nd Lt. James Byler, a good friend who had lost his legs in a bomb blast and was still in intensive care. A nurse brought a phone into Byler's room, and Robert told him he'd soon be back doing CrossFit, a workout popular with Marines. Byler let out a groggy laugh.

Robert couldn't reach his father but left him a brief phone message. Before he flew back to his tiny patrol base, he dashed off a final e-mail to his wife. "I always think I do not want to call you because I will be homesick, but I end up doing it and leave the phone tent with a smile on my face," Robert wrote. "I love you so much and appreciate you being a great sport in all of this craziness. . . . One month down and a lot of months to go, but I am doing what I want to do with my life."

About 12 hours later, the elder Kelly e-mailed his extended family in Boston, preparing them for the possibility that Robert might be maimed or killed. Kelly knew that Robert went out on almost every patrol with his men through mine-filled fields. One of the Marines at Bethesda told him that Robert was "living on luck."

"I write you all to just let you know he's in the thick of it and to keep him in your thoughts," Kelly typed. "We are doing a Novena a minute down here and there is no end in sight."

On Oct. 31, Kelly sent a second e-mail to his eldest sister, the family matriarch. "I am sweating bullets," he confided. "Pray. Pray. Pray. He's such a good boy . . . and Marine."

'Fight to bring us home'

At 6:10 a.m. on Nov. 9, Gen. Joseph F. Dunford Jr., one of Kelly's oldest and dearest friends, rang the doorbell at his home in the Washington Navy Yard. The instant Kelly saw Dunford, dressed in his service uniform, he knew Robert was dead.

As a Marine Corps general, Kelly had spoken with scores of grieving parents. He had written hundreds of condolence letters. In them, he tried to explain why the loss of a beloved child was meaningful, noble and worth the family's pain.

"I guess over time I had convinced myself that I could imagine what it would be like to lose a son or daughter," he said in an interview. "You try to imagine it so that you can write the right kind of letters or form the right words to try to comfort. But you can't even come close. It is unimaginable."

Months later,Kelly would struggle to describe the pain he felt on his front porch. "It was disorienting, almost debilitating," he wrote in an e-mail. "At the same time my mind went through in detail every memory and image I had of Robert from the delivery room to the voice mail he'd left a few days before he died. . . . It was as graphic as if I was watching a video. . . . It really did seem like hours but was little more than a second or so."

Kelly composed himself and moved down his front steps to speak with Dunford's wife and walk his friends into the house. His wife, Karen, was still asleep. "I then did the most difficult thing I've done in my life," Kelly said. "I walked upstairs, woke Karen to the news and broke her heart."

Four days later, Kelly stood in front of a microphone in St. Louis. He saw his speech there as a chance to remind people that the United States was still at war.

"We are in a life-and-death struggle, but not our whole country," he told the crowd. "One percent of Americans are touched by this war. Then there is a much smaller club of families who have given all."

He spoke of the anger that some combat veterans feel toward the war's opponents. "They hold in disdain those who claim to support them but not the cause that takes their innocence, their limbs and even their lives," he said.

Later, he clarified in an interview that he is opposed to indifference, not dissent. "I just think if you are against the war, you should somehow try to change it," he said. "Fight to bring us home."

Kelly's concerns have been echoed of late by generals, lawmakers and top Pentagon civilians. "I worry that we could wake up one day and that the American people will no longer know us, and we won't know them" Adm. Mike Mullen, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, wrote in January.

Former congressman Ike Skelton (D-Mo.) recently lamented to Foreign Policy magazine that "those who protect us are psychologically divorced from those who are being protected."

He'd 'want you to have it'

In mid-February, Kelly received word that Lance Cpl. Sebastian Gallegos, one of his son's Marines from Afghanistan, had declined to accept the Purple Heart he had earned. Gallegos's right arm was severed in an October bomb blast that had killed his squad leader, Sgt. Ian M. Tawney, 25.

The 21-year-old Marine couldn't fathom accepting an honor for an event that had taken his friend's life. Gallegos was lying next to a mortally wounded Tawney as the helicopter left Sangin. "I told him I loved him and watched him die," Gallegos recalled. A few weeks later, Tawney's wife gave birth to a baby girl.

Kelly offered to fly to Brooke Army Medical Center in San Antonio, where Gallegos was being treated, to present the award. Gallegos told him it wasn't necessary.

"Robert would want you to have it," Kelly insisted over the phone.
The ceremony was held in a prefabricated building on the hospital campus. A few minutes before it began, Kelly asked Gallegos to look at a picture of Robert that had been taken on the morning he died. Robert was talking to another Marine and grimacing. "It is the only picture I can ever remember of him in which he wasn't smiling," Kelly said.
He wanted to get the name of the Marine in the picture and ask him why Robert was so irritated. Kelly knew his son as a happy, funny and gentle young man. Now he was trying to better understand him as the battle-hardened combat leader that he had become, he said. Gallegos passed along the name.
The ceremony began around noon. About a dozen of Gallegos's family members took seats on leather couches facing an American flag and a red Marine Corps banner. The women all wore black dresses and heels. Gallegos's father, a former Army Special Forces sergeant, wore a new straw cowboy hat, polished cowboy boots and a tie.
The official ceremony took about 30 seconds. Kelly and Gallegos stood facing each other at the front of the room. The young Marine looked at the ground as Kelly read the award citation and pinned the small purple-and-gold heart to his camouflage uniform. The general gripped Gallegos's left hand and squeezed his shoulder, just above his stump. Gallegos's wife beamed with pride.
After the ceremony, Gallegos's family formed a huddle around their Marine. Gallegos, who had passed up a scholarship offer from Columbia University to enlist, had 12 more months of rehabilitation and then he planned to go to college somewhere in Texas. He wanted to stay close to his family, he said.
His wife wrapped an arm around his waist, put her head on his shoulder and rested a neatly manicured hand on his chest. For the first time that day, Gallegos looked happy and relaxed. He was finally enjoying the moment that he had resisted for months.
Kelly watched from across the room. "They are kids," he whispered. "Look at them. They are just kids."
Staff researcher Julie Tate contributed to this report.

Article Link: http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2011/03/01/AR2011030106355.html?sid=ST2011030106452

Woooo Freedom! Thank you Veterans!

What is it like to see your husband for the first time in 7 months?

For me, the weeks and days leading up to the big day, Homecoming, were filled with what can be best described as a roller coaster of emotions (oh wait... that was the entire 7 months he was gone, lol).  One minute, I would be jumping up and down excited, the next... it was really just another day.  I kept myself busy/ distracted most of the time because I knew if I focused only on Homecoming Day, it would NEVER get here.  Assuming you were as enthusiastic about Christmas and Santa as I was as a kid, go back to that inner 6 year old on Christmas Eve and multiply by a million = best description of pre-Homecoming feelings I can come up with.

How I Kept Myself Distracted:

Friday, October 8

Happy Surprise Birthday Honey G.!!!

Saturday, October 9

Semper Fi 5K with Chandler

Benefiting Injured Marine Semper Fi Fund

Chandler 40/158 Females (28:06)

Me 71/158 Females (31:37)

My first 5K and NO training = not bad if I do say so myself

Sunday, October 10

Apple and Pumpkin Picking at Baugher's in MD

  

Friday, October 15

Engagement Party for Kim and JD!!!

Congratulations and Much Love!

Sunday, October 17

Flight to CA!!!

Thanks to Brittney for letting me hold down her couch in Newport Beach for a few days.
Great food, amazing company and a good distraction from the countdown.

Distraction to include: BOBCAT encounter on my run.  Thank goodness Mrs. Bobcat was more interested in the bunny rabbits running around than this girl.

Tuesday, October 18

Road trip from Newport Beach to Twentynine Palms!  Woo hooo!

I took the trip slowly and stopped in Palm Springs on my way.

Once arriving in 29 I kept myself busy treating myself to dinner and making Welcome Home signage =). 

(Future Note to Self: Shower curtain liner is much easier to paint than a sheet although I must say, I surpassed my ar-tist skills.)

Wednesday, October 20

HOMECOMING

I tired to make the day as normal as possible.  I treated myself to a nice long breakfast, a run and some gym time.  Being the only girl in a gym on a Marine Corps Base = priceless.  I hung the Welcome Home signs I made (key to not letting the wind ruin your signage - put the zip ties not only on the corners, but also in various inside portions of the sheet/shower curtain liner as well).  I even managed to squeeze in an appointment at the DEERS office to update my military id with my new name in the hour I had to kill before the buses rolled in.

The local radio station was tracking the buses journey from March Air Force Base to Twentynine Palms encouraging folks to line the roads and Welcome Home 3/7!

A military homecoming is an overwhelmingly happy/awesome experience to be a part of; I am privileged to have been a part of several.  Definitely should be on every America's bucket list.  Even if you don't have a direct connection to a Marine/ Soldier - GO.  Watching a Marine meet his new baby boy/girl for the first time is indescribable... I get choked up just writing about it.

Several of 3/7s wounded Marines (even a few that had been wounded a few short weeks before) were there to Welcome Home their brothers as well.  AWESOME.

Since it rained the two days prior (who knew it rained in the dessert), our Homecoming was in a gym.  It wasn't until I parked my car and started walking inside that I finally let the excitement really set in and boy did it!  Once the buses were through Main Gate, the Marines were taken to the armory to check in their weapons (I only know this because luckily, I was texting with Parks the whole time). 

It's when the trucks of gear show up and start being unloaded that the reality that they are home sets in even more and the suspense mounts!

Knowing Mr. Parks all too well, I knew he would be the last one off the bus (no way would he allow himself to go inside before his Marines).  I sent him a text telling him that I would be standing towards the back of the crowd welcome line (think Tiger Walk set up minus the barricades for you AU fans) near the moon bounce.  Since it was just me (all of our friends were on later flights), I was my own cameraman/ videographer and decided that video would be the best chance for me to capture the moment.

Suddenly, the cheering, crying and jumping up and down began and one by one, the precious faces of those who are willing to make the ultimate sacrifice began walking through the door. 

One by one Marines walked through the crowd to their families.  Hug after hug after hug - embraces of, "I am never letting you go again" all around me, but still no Parks.  I made a sign and wore heels in an effort to make my shorty self visible in the crowd.  Noting my sign and clearly my anxious face, Marines started assuring me, "ma'am Lt. Parks is coming."  My eyes were filled to the brim and my heart was racing as I anxiously stood on my tippy toes trying to catch the first glimpse.  All of a sudden I saw our friend Lt. Brewster standing at the doorway point towards me.  I dropped my camera* and ran... so much for getting that first footage of Parks.  I got footage of everyone else though - hahaha.

It's funny - as soon as he was back, it felt like he never left.

*No cameras were damaged in the making of this Welcome Home moment.  Thank goodness for camera wristlets.

WELCOME HOME 3/7!!!

WELCOME HOME LTs!!!

Abuzeid

Dzierzak
Fontanetta

Kilcullen

Madden

Schick

Wopschall

The LTs on this poster are all living/ storing their stuff in the same house.
I didn't leave anyone off =)

Lucky Lima, Welcome Home!

Welcome Home 3/7 Lima Co...

TODAY!!!

Oh Happy Day!

A week ago today a strange number called my cell phone =).  

Even after 6 weeks, I knew right away who's voice I was hearing on the other end!  I finally got a phone call from Chris (I had gotten a few short e-mails from him for the first time in 5 weeks, the week before)!  You would think a crazy intense wave of emotion would have come over me and it did... eventually.  Part of our conversation went a little something like this:

Chris (laughing/ surprised tone of voice): Why aren't you crying?

Me (who in situations like this would usually be balling crying): I am not really sure... I think I am in shock right now.  I mean, I have not heard your voice in almost six and half weeks.... talking to you right now is surreal... I can cry if you want me to?  Hahahaha.

Chris: Hahahaha, no no no, you don't have to cry.  (He doesn't like when I cry, even if it's happy tears.)

Talking Talking Talking

Me: Sooooo, is it going to be another 6 weeks before I hear your voice again?

Chris: I will hopefully be home by then.*

OH HAPPY DAY!

*We still do not have an exact homecoming date.  Mid to end of October is the projected time frame, but as I learned early on with the Marine Corps, things such as flight dates can change often... and they usually do.  Hopefully we will have an exact date soon, but regardless, homecoming will be here before we know it!!!

I am happy to report that we had a nice long 15 minute conversation via sat (satellite) phone before it cut out.  He was able to call me back and we chatted for at least another 10 minutes =).*  

*Not the norm apparently; I have heard horror stories of sat phones dropping calls every 2 minutes or so.

I am thankful for my 25 minutes that was only interrupted once =).

Chris sounded great; sounded a little tired, but in good spirits as always!

Yay America!!!

Iron Bowl 2006
Auburn 22 Bama 15

PS: I did cry my happy tears... several times since last Tuesday =)

American Bad Ass and Auburn Grad

I had the privilege of hanging out with Daniel several times when he was in DC recovering.  

He said he would get back to his fellow soldiers.

He did.

War Eagle.

Wounded in Iraq, double-amputee returns to war

By TODD PITMAN, Associated Press Writer

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20100925/ap_on_re_as/as_afghan_amputee_soldier

Sat Sep 25, 6:13 pm ET

ASHOQEH, Afghanistan – When a bomb exploded under Dan Luckett's Army Humvee in Iraq two years ago — blowing off one of his legs and part of his foot — the first thing he thought was: "That's it. You're done. No more Army for you."

But two years later, the 27-year-old Norcross, Georgia, native is back on duty — a double-amputee fighting on the front lines of America's Afghan surge in one of the most dangerous parts of this volatile country.

Luckett's remarkable recovery can be attributed in part to dogged self-determination. But technological advances have been crucial: Artificial limbs today are so effective, some war-wounded like Luckett are not only able to do intensive sports like snow skiing, they can return to active duty as fully operational soldiers. The Pentagon says 41 American amputee veterans are now serving in combat zones worldwide.

Luckett was a young platoon leader on his first tour in Iraq when an explosively formed penetrator — a bomb that hurls an armor-piercing lump of molten copper — ripped through his vehicle on a Baghdad street on Mother's Day 2008.

His Humvee cabin instantly filled with heavy gray smoke and the smell of burning diesel and molten metal. Luckett felt an excruciating pain and a "liquid" — his blood — pouring out of his legs. He looked down and saw a shocking sight: his own left foot sheared off above the ankle and his right boot a bloody mangle of flesh and dust.

Still conscious, he took deep breaths and made a deliberate effort to calm down.

A voice rang out over the radio — his squad leader checking in.

"1-6, is everybody all right?" the soldier asked, referring to Luckett's call-sign.

"Negative," Luckett responded. "My feet are gone."

He was evacuated by helicopter to a Baghdad emergency room, flown to Germany, and six days after the blast, he was back in the U.S.

As his plane touched down at Andrew's Air Force Base, he made a determined decision. He was going to rejoin the 101st Airborne Division any way he could.

For the first month at Washington's Walter Reed Army Medical Center, Luckett was bound to a wheelchair. He hated the dependence that came with it. He hated the way people changed their voice when they spoke to him — soft and sympathetic.

He wondered: how long is THIS going to last? Will I be dependent on others for the rest of my life?

At night, he dreamed of walking on two legs.

When he woke, only the stump of his left leg was there, painfully tender and swollen.

His family wanted to know, is this going to be the same Dan?

He assured them he was.

Luckett was fortunate in one sense. His wounds had been caused not by shrapnel, but the projectile itself, which made a relatively clean cut. That meant no complications — no joint or nerve damage or bone fractures.

His right foot was sheered across his metatarsals, the five long bones before the toes. Doctors fitted it with a removable carbon fiber plate that runs under the foot and fills the space where toes should be with hardened foam.

His left leg was a far bigger challenge.

In early July, Luckett strapped into a harness, leaned on a set of parallel bars, and tried out his first prosthetic leg.

It felt awkward, but he was able to balance and walk.

The next day, Luckett tried the leg on crutches — and tried to walk out the door.

"They were like, 'You gotta' give the leg back,'" Luckett said of his therapists. After a brief argument, they grudgingly gave in. "They said, 'If you're gonna be that hard-headed about it, do it smart, don't wear it all the time.'"

By February 2009, he had progressed so far, he could run a mile in eight minutes.

He rejoined his unit at Fort Campbell, Kentucky, and told his battalion commander he wanted to return to duty "only if I could be an asset, not a liability," he recalled.

Months later, he passed a physical fitness test to attain the Expert Infantryman's Badge. It required running 12 miles (19 kilometers) in under three hours with a 35-pound (16-kilogram) backpack. It was a crucial moment, Luckett said, "because I knew if I can get this badge, then there's nothing they can say that I'm not capable of doing."

The Army agreed, and promoted him to captain.

In May, he deployed to Afghanistan.

On his first patrol, wearing 50 pounds (23 kilograms) of gear and body armor, Luckett slipped and fell down. But when he looked around, everybody else was falling, too.

The region around his outpost at Ashoqeh, just west of the provincial capital of Kandahar in southern Afghanistan, is surrounded by irrigation trenches and 4-foot (1.2-meter) high mud walls that grapes grow over. Troops must traverse the treacherous terrain to avoid bombs on footpaths.

Capt. Brant Auge, Luckett's 30-year-old company commander, said Luckett was as capable as every soldier in his company, and treated no different.

"He's a soldier who just happens to be missing a leg," said Auge, who is from Ocean Springs, Mississippi. "He tries to play it down as much as possible, he doesn't like to bring a lot of attention to it."

On one of those early patrols, Luckett took to a knee and his pants leg rode up a little bit, revealing the prosthetic limb to a shocked group of Afghan soldiers nearby, Auge said. One gave him the nickname, the "One-legged Warrior of Ashoqeh."

Beside his cramped bunk-bed, the 185-pound (84-kilogram), 5-foot-11 (1.80-meter) Luckett keeps prosthetic legs for different tasks, each with a carbon fiber socket that attaches to his thigh.

One is fitted with a tennis shoe for running, another a boot. One, made of aluminum so it won't rust, has a waterproof black Croc for showering. The most important leg though, he saves for patrols. It is made with a high-tech axle that allows him to move smoothly over uneven terrain. His squad leader painted its toenails purple.

Luckett's prothesis is often a source of good humor — most often generated by Luckett himself.

Some joke of his advantage of having little to lose if he steps on a mine. "That's always a big one," he said, "but the reality is, you don't want to step on an IED (bomb) because you enjoy living and you want stay living. The fear is no different than any other soldier."

Before heading to Afghanistan, Auge said Luckett had an as yet untried "master plan" to upset the insurgents.

Troops would have Luckett step on a mine and blow his fake leg off. He'd then look up at the trigger man while whipping a replacement leg over his shoulder and slipping it on.

"Then he would flip them off," Auge said, "and keep on walking."

___

Associated Press Writer Anne Gearan in Washington contributed to this report.