The Real "Team" 

By Tim A. Maxwell
LtCol    USMC
(Microsoft Word Version)

The story is about wounded, at least that is how I hope it is. They, we, are hard to support. I know that. Many would help us all if they could. I know that as well. But it is hard. Really. I will try to explain...a little.

We tend not to complain about our injury too much. Most of us know others who are worse off...a guy with a bad leg knows guys who lost a leg, or both legs. I, with a brain that is "cracked", know youngsters with brain injuries who are still unable to walk or talk. Much worse than me. On and on. To top it off, we know someone who died. Worse than all, really.  So, it is not a good thing to complain.

And besides that, and I am talking mostly about Marines here, although I have seen the same in all, we are not complainers. We are the type who prefer to take it. Tough. We are all going to whip it. 19 year olds who are, or were, Marines (army, navy, AF), are tough SOBs.

And that is because in the Corps, for the first time, they really learn to be part of a team. Not sports, at least not professional sports, where players will switch teams for more money. I am talking about a life and death team. 19, 20, 21 year old warriors are on the team. And they will not switch teams... if they can help it.

But when they get wounded, they cannot help it. They have lost control. They are off the team. All their friends will tell them, as they board the helicopter to fly away, to take care of themselves. Not to worry about them, the team. They will be OK. They need to take care of themselves.

But they, particularly Marines and navy corpsmen, will not. They want to be back, with their team. I have seen many soldiers who take it better. Smarter. They know to take care of themselves. They know that they did their part, and that their unit will be fine without them. I did see that one on the news a while ago, where the soldier went back to his unit. He, like a few other soldiers, and nearly all wounded Marines/corpsmen, are weirdo. But that is how we are. Weirdo, maybe. Different than most citizens? Yes.

But like I said, it is hard to talk about it. The injury itself. The guilt that comes from leaving your team in the combat zone. The frustration. Tough to talk.

And when you do try to complain, or just talk about your frustration with another non-injured individual, it rarely goes well. I am not talking about bad people. Jerks. No, I am talking about good guys/girls. But when you try to discuss frustration with someone, a nice guy, what is he likely to do?

Talk positively. Up beat. That is what good folks want to do. Be positive. Good morale. You tell them a negative thing that you are fighting with. Something that is driving you nutty. Is depressing. Is…confusing.

And they will try to give you the positive side. Talk up beat. Talk about how happy they are just to see their buddy. Even if he cannot run. Or drive. Use my vision as an example...not a complain, got that? Just an example.

When I woke up in Bethesda Hospital, I had no vision in either eye, on the right side. Understand that? Weird, I know. Both eyes were 20/20 on the left, and 0/0 on the right. If 0/0 is correct, I do not know. But you got the idea. (By the way, my right vision is still bad, actually very bad, but not BLACK, like it was. Hopefully it will continue to improve. Fingers crossed...for about another year or so.) Anyway, that is what I was, blind on the right of both eyes. And it was very frustrating...and scary. And confusing. Very confusing. So, one day, I complained to a buddy, or my wife, or my mom, who ever. And can you see what they would say?

Think what you would have said to me. I am lucky to be alive at all. I can see. I am 20/20 to the left. And you do not want me to be depressed. You want to help me stay motivated. To avoid, or reduce depression. So what would you say? You would want to be up-beat, and you would say how happy you are that I am 20/20 to the left! That really is a good thing. It really is. I understand that. I do not want to be blind!  That would be much worse, no kidding. I know a guy who is blind. That is tough, no joke. There is a guy who is on my eam who is totally blind, and he has good morale. So I ask myself, what the heck am I complaining about? "Shut up!", I say to myself. I should be positive! I am OK! And I am I a Marine. Marines do not whine. Therefore, I shall not whine.

And the goofy part? I agree with it all. I think it is good for us wounded warriors to dig through it. To whip it. Both the injury…and the sadness/confusion/irritation.  Beat it all. Whip it.

But it is tough. Particularly, it is tough when you are alone. When you are in the hospital, as weird as this sounds, when you are in the hospital, your morale is OK. You are with other wounded warriors. You can chat about it.

"Dude! What happened?"

"Friggin IED. Blew my leg to a mess. But I will be OK. My other leg is good to go. What happened to you arm?"

Aw, nothing. Mortar round. I lost about 6 inches of muscle, but it will be OK."

Sometimes we just look at each other in the hallway. Look at the other warriors injury. Nod at him/her. That's all. Nothing much, really. Just a nod. Acknowledgement.

But once you are of the hospital…Dear God. Barracks. Alone. Go home on leave. See your old friends. Family members. Chat with them. Good to go. But talk about it. Tough. Talk about a day of irritation. Frustration.

Again, tough.

"My leg is gone!" (No, not mine.)

"Why is it taking so long to learn how to walk (read/see/eat/…) again?" 

"Where is my team! How are they doing? Will I be good to go and make it back to them in Iraq?"

"Will my God Dand leg be good to go at least for the next deployment?"

We can do it. Deal with it. We are doing it. But, like I said, it can be tough.

But it is a heck of a lot easier when you are with a pier.

That, my friends, is why we built the Wounded Warriors living place. You can see, chat about, your situation. With someone who gets it. Who know why you are pissed. You aren't whining. Complaining. YOU ARE PISSED!  I get that. So am I.

"I wonder how Smitty is."

"Oh yeah, I saw him last week. We were on the same patrol. He is doing well. But his girlfriend dumped him with a letter..."

We appreciate the visits we get in the hospital, believe me. I have met more stars than you could imagine. The USMC Commandant stopped by. The Sergeant Major of the Marine Corps stopped by. Cool! On and on. And when they asked me how I was doing, well, you know what I said:

"Good to go! Can't see well. Can't walk yet. Can't use my right arm worth a darn. My left elbow, which was also blown to hell, requires another surgery. I feel fine!"

Senior Marines. Movie stars. Famous movie star Marines! We love it! Enjoyable! Really.

But still…How is my team? How are they doing without me? Why is my leg still…?

People just need to know. They want to know. The wounded crew can't say anything. They cannot complain about it. They can't whine. But they wouldn't mind it if people understood it.

And get this…they are all different! Holy call!

So I will do news on CBS. I have been on CNN. I was on it again, but they just did not put it on TV. That was a tough. A long drive to DC, before I really was able to ride that far. I have been on a local news station. I will talk to anyone who will listen. I will give speeches. I have done several, and will do as many of them as are available.

And, as you can see, I will even write. Despite the fact that my writing exhausted me. Like I said before, my vision is tough, and controlling my right hand is difficult. Bottom line, I'm not too good. Not anymore. I was pretty good at it. At least, not bad. I have written a few times over the years I have given many speeches. And met many individuals. I have even been in USMC videos. Just basic stuff back then. Before I got wacked. And I was comfortable with it. Writing. Talking. Meeting. No problem. I knew what I was up to. Plus, I was rarely tired back them. Shoot. Sleeping used to be irrelevant. Not these days! Boy oh boy! Definitely not like that these days. These days, basically, I am not as good as I used to be.   

But that is OK. 

Like I tell wounded Marines all the time...

I am just on the "B" team.

But so are they.

Semper Fidelis,

Tim Maxwell

LtCol USMC