Hearts Abound

I’ve now been witness and taken part in several award ceremonies that included the presentation of the Purple Heart. The best of these are “Return to Duty” with the soldier who has been injured and recovered standing in the company of others. At the other end of the presentation spectrum is the Purple Heart presented posthumously laid upon a presentation table along with a photograph of the soldier. Recently, I was called to the CSH (Combat Support Hospital) when one of our subordinate units reported having been attacked. We had five soldiers there. Two soldiers had minor injuries; one had smoke inhalation and was slated for observation for a couple of days. Two soldiers needed surgery. A small group that included the company commander, our XO and a couple of unit NCO’s and fellow squad members came and visited with the first soldier who had come out of surgery. SPC S, was like many soldiers—lanky and earnest. What struck me most about our visit with him was how immediate our access was and how quickly the unit wished to conduct honors for him.

A piece of surgical tape was affixed to the Purple Heart. As the XO reached forward to give the medal to him, a ripple of emotion crossed the face of SPC S. I could see the apprehension in his eyes. This is not an award anyone seeks to receive. SPC S. is lucky. The shrapnel in his leg was easily removed. It was given for him to keep. His buddies will eventually welcome him back to the fold.

It was SPC B who was on everybody’s mind, however. He was in surgery when we arrived. He sustained extensive damage to his legs from shrapnel wounds. The surgeons were hopeful that they would be able to save both his legs. Unit members as well as we from the battalion waited a couple of hours before he was brought down. We all gathered in the ICU. This was so different from a civilian hospital. We were all gathered near his bed while doctors and nurses worked on him. He was in a semi-conscious state and I was able to pray with him. SPC B. was encouraged by his buddies as well. As nurses used ultrasonic devices to help blood flow to his extremities, we helplessly listened as SPC B. from time to time would cry out in pain. Morphine was on hand.

Eventually we were told that SPC B. would have to go back in for surgery due to a possible blood clot. I took it as a poor sign whether he would get to keep the affected leg.
All along I had been holding the Purple Heart with another piece of surgical tape attached to it. (Later I would discover that in the early history of the U.S. Army there were no medals. They were considered too reminiscent of continental nobles who were given medals for just being who they are instead of earning them. George Washington cut some purple cloth into heart shapes and gave them to his most courageous men.) We left the Purple Heart with SPC B.'s unit NCO's and fellow soldiers. A couple weeks later I learned that SPC had lost his leg and sent to Walter Reed. His life, like many of our soldiers, will be radically different than how it was before they came to Iraq.

I have seen bravery up close. It is a quality of the heart. It bleeds and the cost is great. Nothing can be traded for it. The next times I would see a Purple Heart was at both of the memorial services in which I had part as soon as I returned from leave in October. One soldier was 20 years old, the other was 21. I barely can remember what was in my heart at their age.