Making the Coalition's Case As Clear As Glass

I recently had the opportunity to accompany David Walker, the chairman of the Coalition’s board of directors, to the 2011 GlassBuild America convention in Atlanta GA. I knew very little about what these fine folks do, but I read a bit about the convention online and was aware that I'd be meeting business owners for door and window companies. What I didn't know, however, was how gracious they would be, and how even during a slowdown of the economy, when some are struggling to make the next mortgage payment, they still stepped up to help provide a major component for construction of a wounded warrior’s home. They actually gave 80 windows that were specifically made of sound-deadening components – perfect for a soldier struggling to live with PTSD.

I was warmly welcomed to a luncheon event at the convention, and given the chance to showcase what the Coalition does for our wounded soldiers. I want everyone who came to the luncheon to know that I had a great time speaking to, and with, them and look forward to the next occasion to share our message and raise awareness about our organization.

Cpl. Donny Daughenbaugh USMC (ret.)
National Spokesman
CSAH

Loaded for Bear in Maine's North Woods

(Editor’s Note: The Coalition to Salute America’s Heroes recently helped sponsor several wounded veterans who went on a bear-hunting trip in Maine. The following is an account of the expedition written by Tony Covell, one of the CSAH’s national spokesmen, who lives near Traverse City, MI.)

At the Coalition’s Road to Recovery Conference and Tribute in December 2010, I met Bob Duhadaway, who has been a long-time supporter of the group and is a passionate game hunter. He told me he wanted to take some injured service members on a bear hunt, and asked me to bring along another veteran. My first call was to John Case, who I knew from my time in Iraq. John has a Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI), and suffers from a serious case of PTSD – so bad, in fact, that he had not left Logan County in southern Ohio, where he lives, for six years. Although he was a little hesitant at first about being so far away from home, he ultimately accepted the invitation.

Bob, meanwhile, had lined up two Marines from Virginia to join us – Brad Garfield, who was an explosive ordinance disposal technician injured in Iraq while trying to disarm an IED, and James Gill, who was with an infantry unit and lost a leg and an eye during a cordon and search. Emails were exchanged and the date was set for the end of August. Bob was kind enough to donate the hunts and agree to have trophies mounted of any bears we took, while the Coalition was very generous to cover our travel expenses.

As the time for the hunt drew closer, excitement was in the air, as well as a bit of apprehension as Hurricane Irene decided to make her debut up the East Coast. Although flying to Maine was never an option – given that we were headed to the tiny town of Stockholm, less than 15 miles from the Canadian border, and planning to transport bear meat on the way back – this storm still complicated our plans. On the day I was to leave my home, we decided that instead of us all meeting in Virginia, I would drive just to Ohio to pick up John and then turn north to avoid the hurricane. James and Brad, meanwhile, would travel a day behind, once the storm has passed.

After three days on the road, I finally arrived in Maine and as soon as everyone was settled in, we discussed where we would be hunting. John and I had decided to hunt with muzzleloaders, while James would be using a bow and Brad, a .308-caliber rifle. For me, the first outing came and went with the only action being a couple of birds and squirrels that played in the trees in front of my blind. James, however, had better luck as he took a shot at a bear just before dark. Upon first light the next day, we hit the woods to search for the presumably wounded bear, but unfortunately the only thing we found was mosquitoes. That evening, however, proved to be great for almost everybody as John, James and Brad all took nice bears. I even had a little more action in front of me – two raccoons that came to play.

We spent the early part of our third day fishing off the docks in front of our cabin until I had to head for the woods. Gary Sweeney, our head guide, decided to move me to another blind, but by the end of the day, I was wishing I was back in my original one where I could at least watch the raccoons. Finally my luck turned on our fourth day. John accompanied me to the blind, thinking he would videotape the hunt for me on my camera, and that maybe a little extra “mojo” wouldn’t hurt either. Gary dropped us off around 3 p.m. and by 3:40 we had a bear at the bait. As I took aim, John prepared the camera and said, “Just tell me when you are going to shoot,” to which my only response was “Now.” I fired my .50-caliber muzzleloader and the beast dropped in its tracks. After some high-fiving, we called Gary to pick us up and head back to watch the video. Only during the return ride to camp did John tell me from the rear seat of Gary’s pick-up, “Man, I’m sorry I didn’t get the button pushed to record the shot.” Naturally, the rest of the night was spent with everybody playfully picking on him.

An Emotional Return to Iraq

(Editor’s Note: Retired Marine Cpl. Donny Daughenbaugh, one of the national spokesmen for the Coalition to Salute America’s Heroes, was recently among eight veterans invited by the Troops First Foundation to spend a week back in Iraq, where he was seriously wounded in 2004. He wrote this blog entry upon his return.)

I was nervous to take those first steps off that C-130. The last time I was in Iraq, the result was not what I envisioned. I was shot in the face, just south of Baghdad, and blacked out for a minute afterwards, When I regained consciousness, I saw a large puddle of blood – MY blood. I had visions of what others would say to my wife when I didn't make it home. That experience subsequently led to years of recovery.

This day was different, though. As I stepped off that bird at Camp Liberty – part of the BIAP compound at Baghdad International Airport – we were greeted by an Air Force band playing music and inviting the eight of us back into this country where we nearly lost our lives. We were then welcomed into a palace with several hundred troops in attendance. They all wanted to hear what we had to say and, deep down, they wanted to know why in the world we would come back here.

When it was my time to take the microphone and address the huge crowd, I told them that it was hard to step off that plane, but that as a result of their dedication to their mission and their vision of a free Iraq, I felt safe. I also told them, "When I was here on deployment, just like all of you, I couldn't wait to leave. However the way I made that exit wasn't right, and from the very first minutes I was hospitalized in Baghdad, I wanted to come back. I couldn't wait for the opportunity to leave on my own terms, not strapped to a stretcher or on a medevac airplane."

Our trip was known as “Operation Proper Exit 9” because this was the ninth time that the Troops First Foundation had enabled wounded veterans to have the opportunity to know what it feels like to leave "theater" under their own power. During the entire week we were treated as distinguished guests, including being assigned a personal security detail (PSD) to go with us everywhere and help keep us safe. Our trip took us on hours of helicopter tours over the areas where each of us was injured, and to military bases where some of us had been stationed. One universal element we all shared was Balad Air Force Base Hospital, where each of us, differing in ages and injuries, was treated or stabilized. We got the chance to talk with all of the ER staff there and thank them for taking such good care of us, as well as others that we know back in the "states."

We also saw new technologies that help to keep our current troops safer, such as a revolutionary MRAP vehicle, which is used to detect IEDs, as well as for patrolling. It is unbelievably heavy and has a V-shaped bottom to direct blasts away from the vehicle; we were told it helps improve a soldier’s chances of surviving a bomb or IED blast by around 75 percent, which are great odds. Likewise, we were shown a C-RAM system, which detects incoming rounds, projects their point of impact and, if safe, will use a "mini-gun" to shoot the rounds out of the sky.

It was amazing to observe the differences from when we were there to how it is now. The Army did a great job of demonstrating to us how our injuries and time “in country” helped to contribute to a safer Iraq. For the first time in 65 years, people there are now able to protest concern over the operations of the military, the government and the infrastructure. They have never had that chance and we helped give it to them. We met a lot of great commanders and sergeant majors, all of whom conveyed just how much they appreciated our deployments, our sacrifices and that of our families.

Perhaps most importantly, our group had the chance to revisit the places where each of us got hurt, or "hit," which helped to leave some of those painful feelings behind. Our base still received incoming mortar rounds almost daily. Although the detection systems they have in place are much better, a mortar round doesn't discriminate who it hits or where.

I left Iraq thankful for the opportunity to walk onto the plane that carried us safely back to the blessed United States. On the flight from Kuwait, our group was talking to the plane’s captain, a reserve helicopter pilot who had done multiple tours in Afghanistan and was due back within months. He was the first person to notify us about the death of Osama Bin Laden, who was responsible for turning our country inside out, killing many innocent civilians and really starting the global War on Terror. It was great news on which to end a great trip. This was a once-in-a-lifetime experience and I'm very glad I went. I now know what it feels like have a "proper exit" and I'm forever grateful. Semper Fidelis!

Cpl. Donny Daughenbaugh, USMC (ret.)

Houston Rodeo Revisited

Yet again my hat is off to the Houston Rodeo! Before the three-week-long event ended on March 20, I was invited back a second time, along with other wounded warriors, for the “swine auction,” which was preceded by one of the best breakfasts I've ever had: eggs, bacon and sausage, of course, along with pancakes, pastries and even cake!

Once we were fed, the event started much the same as a Major League Baseball game, with a presentation of the colors and the singing of the national anthem. Then all of the military veterans on hand were called up on stage, including two each from the Army, Navy and Coast Guard, as well as three from the Air Force and the Marines, of which I was one. The cheering crowd welcomed us in a way that Texans are pretty amazing at. Again, thanks to the Houston Rodeo for setting such an awesome example

Donny Daughenbaugh, USMC (ret.)
National Spokesman
CSAH

Houston Rodeo Parade Honors Veterans

I recently wore my dress blues for the first time in awhile. I used to wear them only for special events, and now that I'm retired the same holds true, but the occasion on March 1 was, indeed, special. I was invited as a wounded soldier to be in the Grand Entry Parade at the opening of the 79th annual Houston Rodeo and Livestock Show. Altogether, there were about a dozen veterans who participated, including a group of eight or nine other wounded heroes from the San Antonio Military Medical Center.

The event started, in true Texas tradition, with Texas barbecue and Coca-Cola. Because that day was designated by the rodeo as Armed Forces Appreciation Day, we were surrounded by some 1,300 soldiers and their families from Ft. Hood, Texas, and it felt like being back on a base again to see all that camouflage! I learned that the rodeo, which is a very big deal here in Houston, doesn't get under way without the parade, and having now experienced it, I’d have to say I agree. All of the wounded troops were loaded into horse-drawn wagons and off we went.

It took a lot of logistics to get everyone in the wagons and to store the wheelchairs, but once the horses began, there was no stopping them. We first paraded through lots of horse ranchers and exhibitors where there were more salutes than I could've counted! As we prepared to make our way into Reliant Stadium, where the rodeo itself takes place, we all heard the announcers mentioning that a very special group of wounded warriors was about to join them, and in we came. All the applause and cheering, mixed with the shouts of “thank you,” were amazing to hear. The wounded troops were featured on the stadium’s big screen, waving to the crowd and really soaking up the huge show of appreciation that was taking place.

I had never been to the rodeo before, but after seeing the outpouring of support from Texans, I'll certainly be there again next year with the family in tow. I can only hope to be part of the crowd of raving fans as a caravan of veterans and wounded warriors are brought through because it was pretty obvious the rodeo had permission to begin once that occurred. It was a great experience and I hope other families get to enjoy this amazing spectacle. My special thanks to the Armed Forces Appreciation Committee for allowing the heroes to be so proudly supported on that day.

Donny Daughenbaugh, USMC (ret.)
National Spokesman
CSAH

The Trials of Dogsledding

Imagine being told that you would never be able to dance at your daughter’s wedding, or do certain activities that you once pursued passionately. Would you accept defeat or would you strive to adapt – to prove to doctors, your family, the world, but most importantly, to yourself, that you are not disabled, but still the strong-minded, determined and inspired individual who served your country so proudly?

This was essentially the challenge facing me and two other northern Michigan veterans wounded in the Mideast wars as we recently put our bodies to the test during two days of dogsledding. Joe Tormala, Nick Hurst and I had grown up riding either ATVs or snowmobiles through the state’s vast network of trails, but none of us had ever tried this activity. While most people may think that dogsledding is just riding on a sled behind the dogs, we quickly learned that is not the case.

Upon arriving at the trail head in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, the three of us were met by our guides and a brisk temperature of minus- 16 degrees that eventually warmed to the mid 20’s. Before assigning us our dogs, our guides gave us a brief instruction on how to hook up our teams, after which they remarked on how quickly we “rookies” took to such tasks, as if we had been doing them for years. Once the dogs were set and gear loaded on our respective sleds, we then took off on our overnight camping trip, which was to cover about 15-18 miles the first day.

While the dogs did most of the work, we soon realized that this was not just a “ride and enjoy” session as we had to help the sled uphill by either running next to it or pushing it along with one foot. We also had to steer the sled, making sure the dogs took the correct path by shouting “HA” for left and “GEE” for right, and were constantly using the brake system to keep the dogs from running into the other sleds. By the end of that first day, the dogs were not the only ones tired as we shared dinner and a few laughs before spending the night at the winter encampment.

Morning broke with more than a few groans about sore and tired muscles, but everyone’s upbeat, can-do attitudes prevailed as we prepared for the run back to the kennels. Deciding on a shorter route of only 10-12 miles for the return trip, we were soon enjoying the serenity that comes from being behind a dog team. When you can ride through the wilderness and the only sound you hear is the barking of the dogs or your own voice shouting encouragement to them, it makes for a peaceful and enjoyable day.

After our return, with the dogs put away, we said our good-byes and drove to our respective homes, each filled with a new respect for the sport of dogsledding.

Tony Covell
CSAH National Spokesman

Life Lessons Learned from Coastal Dance Rage

Recently I went to St. Louis so my daughter could participate in a dance workshop that was part of the international Coastal Dance Rage tour. As I sat there watching 400+ little dancers, I couldn't help but think of how to apply this to life. I found that hour after hour, these kids gave their all. As the expression goes, they “danced like no one was watching." I was inspired by their determination to learn and grow in something that they love so much. They pushed through the physical/mental stress it takes to keep up with professional instructors. They gave everything they could to become better.

I want you to think hard for a second about what in your life has inspired you, or what is your passion. I want you to think about what you would do to become better. Since I was injured in Iraq, I get asked a lot, "How do you do it? How do you push on?" Well, these kids showed me that if you want something bad enough, you find a way to dance the dance. Whether your life is a waltz, a lyrical, or a hip hop jam, dance like no one is looking.

BJ Jackson, U.S. Army (Ret.)
National Spokesman
CSAH