I still remember lying in the hospital bed thinking to myself, “My military career is over.  Now what am I going to do?”  On September 26th 2003, while en route to four days of rest and recuperation (“R&R”), my Hummer was ambushed by a roadside bomb outside of Tikrit, Iraq.  As a result of the attack, I lost my left eye, ruptured both ear drums, suffered a minor traumatic brain injury and nerve damage to my left arm and hand.  That’s the thing with war – there’s no time out when you are injured.

As I was still sitting in the burning hummer gathering my thoughts and assessing the situation, there were two thoughts going through my head: whether I would live to see my family and the fact that there were six soldiers killed the night before in a similar ambush.  I actually remember thinking to myself how upset my mom was going to be, because I had promised her I would not get hurt.  Fortunately for me, there were two other hummers and an Apache gunship providing support in the immediate area.

I actually volunteered to go to Iraq after begging another soldier to let me take his place.  I still remember sitting at the send off ceremony and my Command Sergeant Major patting me on the back saying, “Well, Boggsy, you finally got your way”.  I don’t think my mom could turn her head fast enough asking me what he was talking about.  I told her this is what I joined the military for – to help make a difference.

Once I was pulled away from the burning vehicle and somewhat stabilized, I wanted to let my family know I was going to be OK.  I knew the phone call home would not be easy, and when my father answered the phone, he knew right away something was wrong.  I did my best to try and joke around telling him I’m OK but may end up missing some parts.  I don’t think I had ever heard my Dad so choked up and emotional.

I was medevaced to Landstuhl, Germany, for a week then off to Walter Reed Army Medical Center where I spent a year and half having surgeries and rehab.  I was able to see my parents shortly after arriving to Walter Reed, and it was very comforting having them there.  We are a very close family.  I am very blessed to have such a loving and caring family.  Had it not been for my parents and their support, I don’t think I would have been so positive and upbeat throughout the recovery process.  While at Walter Reed, I had to make the ultimate decision of leaving the military.  I had a choice to stay in the Army but would no longer be able serve in the Infantry.  This was a very tough decision for me, but I knew there would be no way I could ride a desk.  The Army I signed up for was being on the front lines with my fellow soldiers, so in February of 2003, I was medically retired from the Army.

It was not until leaving the military and moving to Florida that my life began to fall apart, and I realized my separation was not going to be that easy.  I struggled with various jobs and really missed the adrenaline rush and the camaraderie of my fellow soldiers.  I went through three different jobs before landing a job with the government as civilian Army recruiter which was short lived with the contract dropped after four months. So here I am in Florida without a job and my family and friends back in Ohio.  It was very hard to keep all this from my family.  I did not want them to know that I had failed.

Pride is very tough to overcome and prevents you from asking for help.  I cannot stress enough how important family is during this recovery period.  But it was not until I met another wounded soldier through a nonprofit that I began to open up about my injuries.  I was not diagnosed with my traumatic brain injury until 2006, and that was only after being around other wounded soldiers.  There was one in particular that shared a similar story as mine.  After talking to him I felt comfortable opening up.  It was then that he was very direct and blunt with me and said, “Dude you got blown up”.  He told me I needed to speak with someone and ask for help.  That conversation would have never happened with my family and friends, because they did not understand what I was going through, and they would be afraid they may hurt my feelings.  So I made a phone call to the VA and simply said I was broke and needed to be fixed.  I never wanted to speak with a mental health specialist and thought I could fix myself.

I realized I was not doing myself or my fellow soldiers any service by not getting help and should lead by example.  I am now a motivational speaker and spokesperson for Telecommunications Asset Management Company (“TAMCO”) Foundation Embracing Florida’s Wounded Heroes.  And had it not been for organizations like these bringing soldiers together, who knows where I would be.  Looking back to 2005, I know I was very close to hitting bottom.  I now use TAMCO Foundation as a platform to tell my story and reach out to other soldiers to provide emergency financial aid, family and career support.

I never thought I would say this, but looking back I have no regrets about what happened to me.  For the first time in my life, I feel I have found my true calling as motivational speaker and spokesperson.  I look forward to the various events and meeting with the wounded soldiers.  I like to think of myself as their light at the end of the tunnel.  I want to come in there and be able to inspire and motivate them through my ongoing success story.  I have been so compelled by the effect I have on soldiers opening up to me that I have considered pursuing a degree in social work that would specialize in helping my fellow soldiers.  None of this would have been possible without the support of my family and organizations such as TAMCO Foundation.

Soldiers in need of aid should contact their local VA hospitals.  They usually have a number of organizations on file that can help.

Sgt Gary Boggs, US Army (Ret) is a spokesperson for TAMCO Foundation: Embracing Florida’s Wounded Heroes.