Recorded Books Inc. - Back In Action: an American Soldiers Story Of Courage, Faith And Fortitude
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- Book:Back In Action: an American Soldiers Story Of Courage, Faith And Fortitude
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Back In Action: an American Soldiers Story Of Courage, Faith And Fortitude: summary, description and annotation
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They put a price on his head. They did everything they could to disrupt his mission. Finally, when an anti-tank mine tore off his right foot, the warriors of jihad in Iraq thought they had neutralized one of their most resourceful, determined foes. They were wrong. Refusing to let his injury stop him, Captain David Rozelle roared back into action, returning to Iraq as commander of an armored cavalry troop. He became the first amputee in recent military history to resume a dangerous command on the same battlefield. In Back in Action: An American Soldiers Story of Courage, Faith, and Fortitude, Rozelle tells the whole gripping story: from the day he had to tell his pregnant wife that he was going to war (Valentines Day 2003) and deployed for Operation Iraqi Freedom, to the fateful day four months later when a land mine tore off his right foot and beyond, through months of agonizing rehabilitation to his final triumphant recertification as Fit for Duty. Rozelle, who has been awarded the Bronze Star with Valor and the Purple Heart, speaks with brisk frankness about his post-amputation battles and the gritty determination that saw him through. He recounts his inspiring battle through rehabilitation, as he learned to walk with a prosthetic foot and did his utmost to prove he still had the stuff to be a soldier: completing five sprint-distance triathlons, an Olympic-distance triathlon, the New York City Marathon, and skiing, snowboarding, and mountain climbing through Disabled Sports USA. Its an astonishing story of courage, determination, heroism, and bedrock patriotism. Every now and again, says Rozelle, I would get the standard, That is horrible. How do you feel about the war The fearless captain would respond: How do you feel about your freedom If you arent willing to die for it, then you arent American. David Rozelle was willing to die for freedom, and he is still willing to put his life on the line for it, despite the injury he has already suffered. Back in Action is a stirring reminder of the commitment every American should have to the cause of freedom, if we hope to continue to enjoy that freedom. Its an extraordinary and inspiring story of devotion to duty overcoming all obstacles.;Intro; Title Page; Dedication; CHAPTER 1 -- The Price of Freedom; CHAPTER 2 -- Sitting on the Border; CHAPTER 3 -- The War Machine Starts Turning; CHAPTER 4 -- My Life as a Texan; CHAPTER 5 -- Kim, My Love and Army Wife; CHAPTER 6 -- An End to Major Combat in Iraq; CHAPTER 7 -- First Contact; CHAPTER 8 -- Success of the Model City and Its Fall; CHAPTER 9 -- In Her Own Words; CHAPTER 10 -- Taking My Foot Does Not Mean Taking My Life; CHAPTER 11 -- Recovery and Birth; CHAPTER 12 -- My New Mission: Amputee Support; CHAPTER 13 -- Fit for Duty; Acknowledgments; Copyright Page
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Table of Contents
For Forrest.
May we win this war so that you will always know freedom.
And for Kim, who has always believed in me.
CHAPTER 1
The Price of Freedom
ITS NOT HARD TO GET YOUR MIND FOCUSED for a mission when theres a price on your head. It was the day that would change my life forever, 21 June 2003, in Hit (pronounced heat), Iraq.
Just a few days before, my translator and I were smoking cigarettes and enjoying some hot tea, waiting with a few sheiks for our weekly situation meeting to begin. I was the de facto sheriff of Hit. As we waited for the rest of the sheiks to arrive, we would discuss the IranIraq war. My translator had been a POW in the war, held for eleven years in an Iranian prison. He had been pressed into military service after his third year of medical school and served as an infantryman. As a POW, he found himself doing procedures in prison with no anesthesia, no sanitary rooms, and few medical instruments. His techniques kept fellow prisoners alive, but were often brutal and crippling. After getting out of prison, he decided to never practice medicine again. He was a good man, and was proud to be of service to those who had freed him for the second time in his life.
After taking a long drag on one of my Marlboros, he looked over at me and said in a low voice, Captain, do not go on your mission tonight.
I was surprised. I always lead my men, I responded. Its still dangerous and I want to command on the ground.
He said, Your men will be safe, but you will be attacked. If you go, it may be your last mission.
What the hell are you talking about? I said angrily. In a loud voice, so that the sheiks in the room could hear, I continued, Youre not trying to threaten me, are you? I will destroy any man who attacks me. Tell me who is saying these thingsIll arrest them today!
He spoke to me carefully, in a low voice so that others couldnt hear, trying to calm me: Captain, there are men in town who are planning missions in our mosques, under the command of clerics here and from Ar Ramadi. These men I do not know. But they are dangerous. Some are from Iran, and some are from Syria. Its rumored that they have offered $1,000 U.S. to any man who can kill you, the one who rides in the vehicle with the symbols K6 on the side... the one who always wears sunglasses. They recognize you as the leader, and as one who is successful and powerful.... Please do not go tonight.
I responded out loud, You spread the word: I am powerful and I command many men. Out of respect for the people of Hit, I have yet to bring my tanks into this city and show you my full combat capabilities. Let the town know that the whereabouts of these terrorists must be reported in order to protect the innocent civilians of this city. Im not afraid and Im not threatened.
On our mission that night, we did arrest several suspicious people and killed two men who tried to attack our tanks with rocket-propelled grenades (RPGs). After such a wild night, we decided to stay out of the city for a few days. Unfortunately, we were giving the terrorists more time to prepare their next attack.
It was 1630 hours on the day of my final mission. I could tell when my men were ready because the sounds below changed from bolts charged and orders given during the final pre-combat inspection to laughter and tough talk. I never came down from my command post until I heard the distinctive sound of my high mobility multi-wheeled vehicle (Humvee), distinctive because each Humvee has its own pitch or hum. Upon hearing that sound, I knew that my windshield and binocular lenses were clean, my maps updated with the most current intelligence, my radios checked, and my personal security detachment was loaded, with weapons pointed outward. With so many antennae and barrels protruding, we must have looked like some strange oversized desert insect. But before I walked down to conduct my final inspection, I continued my tradition of kissing the picture of my wife, Kim, listening to the message she had recorded in the frame, and saying a short prayer to God to take care of my unborn child if I did not return.
I was Killer 6, which is the code word for the leader of K Troop, 3rd Squadron, 3rd Armored Cavalry Regiment. I commanded 139 men, nine M1A2 main battle tanks, 13 M3A2 Cavalry fighting vehicles, two tracked vehicles carrying 120 mm mortar guns, three support tracked vehicles, and five wheeled vehicles.
Before heading out on the mission, I would walk the line of soldiers to look at their faces. It wasnt just to make a final inspection. They needed to see me confident and unafraid of our impending mission. We treated every mission the same, whether we were conducting a traffic control point (TCP) or were capturing terrorists. My men had to be ready for anything.
A few weeks earlier, my boss had informed me that now that we had stood up an entirely new police force, we had to train them in police work. This tasking was a V Corps requirement. I was excited about it, tired of conducting patrols where I spent most of my time watching over my shoulder. Training leads to confidence and job comfort. We had done something historic. Within weeks of the end of major combat operations, we had rearmed Iraqi soldiers and were now patrolling the streets with them. They certainly needed training, and training was our task for the night.
We had scheduled the first night of training to start at 1700 hours, as it promised to be cooler than midday. The sun did not set until 2030 or 2100 hours, so we had plenty of time to train. We had planned on teaching for two hours, which we knew would turn into three or four. We always planned twice the amount of time to do anything with local forces.
It was about 1640 hours when we finally headed out the gate of our compound. I was traveling with two of my Humvees, my own and an improvised gun-truck, and two military police (MP) Humvees. As I crossed through the wire at the lead of the convoy, I called my departure report to Squadron Operations Center and told my detachment to lock and load their weapon systems.
On the squadron radio, I reported, Thunder, this is Killer 6... Killer is departing FOB Eden to Hit police academy, vicinity soccer stadium, with one officer and twenty-one enlisted.
Changing hand microphones, I immediately followed, Killer, this is Killer 6, lock and load your weapon systems and follow my move.
After getting acknowledgments from the three vehicles following me, I charged my 9 mm Beretta, watching as the bullet slipped easily into the chamber. As was my custom, as a deterrent to possible wrongdoers, I had my pistol outside the window in my right hand, and my left inside on the Bible my father had given me just before deploying to Iraq. Inscribed on the inside cover were the words, Use it as a tour guide, and in the back I had pasted a picture of my wife and me with my parents, taken just after our deployment ceremony.
It was only about five miles from our Forward Operating Base (FOB) to the town of Hit. Just before we reached the roundabout at the north end of the city, I told my driver to turn left down a dirt road we often used for observation by tanks at night.
I intended to avoid the roundabout in order to avoid detection from any spies at the first intersection. The dirt road took us from one paved road to another, and was only about two hundred meters in length. Just as we reached the far side, I noticed that the gradual terrace that normally allowed easy access to the road was now steeper and recently graded. Looking over the edge, I decided that the vehicles could handle the drop and we started to ease over the ledge.
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