A warrior’s journey toward peace and purpose

I truly am freer now than when I had my legs. I would not change a thing. Freedom — the obvious definition — is what we fought for in Iraq and Afghanistan and Bosnia and Vietnam and in two

world wars and in every other conflict in which the United States has engaged. But to me freedom is also disengagement from anguish, from worry about the future or reliving the past. Freedom

is presence. On May 7, 2007, I was grievously wounded in an IED attack in Iraq while my unit was returning from a memorial service for two fallen soldiers. When you have lost both legs and

have only one functional arm, you get present real fast. I did not know what was coming next — how I would survive, how I would take care of my family, whether I could maintain a career. The

only thing I could do was be in the present moment. Eight months later, I was on the sidelines of the Super Bowl with my pre-teen son. The New York Giants had been struggling but Mike

Sullivan, my former West Point teammate, had brought me in to share my story with the players. He thought it might motivate them — help them come together as a team. They won the Super Bowl

that year. To my lasting surprise, I later starred in a major Hollywood movie, “Battleship.” I received a call from director Peter Berg after he’d seen a photograph of me in _National

Geographic_. There are two things I keep close to remind me to stay present. One is a patch designed by Clint Walkingstick, an artist from Oklahoma working with the Has Heart organization.

Clint’s patch reads, “Be your best, be present and be at peace.” You cannot be your best if you are not present, and you cannot be at peace if you are thinking about how you were wronged in

the past or how you are going to get ahead tomorrow. The other thing is a dog tag given to me by a chaplain at Walter Reed, engraved with one of my favorite scriptures passages, Joshua 1:9.

“Be strong and courageous; do not be afraid, do not be discouraged for the Lord Your God will be with you wherever you go.” There have been sorrows. I have lost my parents, friends, fellow

soldiers. My mom died too young — in her early 60s. She liked to say I traveled with angels. For many years I wore a cross she gave me on a chain around my neck. But the chain broke under

the weight of the body armor I had to wear in Iraq and I lost it. I didn’t tell her. But not long after that she sent me a care package. In it was a coin — on one side was an angel and on

the other my name. There was also a metal clip — I guess it was a hair clip — with an angel on it. I had it soldered into my Humvee.