Lee Geiger

I’m going to be just fine.

Brendan Marrocco

April 12, 2009- Somewhere in Iraq

The amorphic desert is more pitch-black than a cup of dark roast. At the wheel of the Mine Resistant Ambush Protected (MRAP) vehicle on this pre-dawn hour of Easter Sunday is United States Army infantryman Brendan Marrocco, a machine gunner by training but who only became a driver just a few days ago. His was the last truck in a four-vehicle convoy on a routine mission escorting a group of soldiers from one base to another. Private First Class Marrocco is from Staten Island, NY, and he is 22 years old.

Summer 2011- Walter Reed Hospital – Washington, D.C.

Four-star U.S. Navy Admiral William H. McRaven, commander of all U.S. Special Operations Forces (USSOC), pulls up to the entrance of Walter Reed hospital. Sgt. Maj. Thompson steps out from the main building and greets McRaven with a smile and a sharp salute. “Sir, good to have you back.”

“Thanks, Sergeant Major,” he says. “Where is your brother, the other Sergeant Major Thompson?”

Sergeant Major smiles at the running joke between he and McRaven. The Thompson “twins,” as the admiral jokingly refers to them, are the two senior enlisted men providing patient advocacy for the special operations soldiers at Walter Reed. One is black, the other white. But, down deep, they are both Army green and damn proud of it. “Sir, he’s down in the Advanced Training Center (ATC) talking to our newest patients.”

The ATC is a remarkable 31,000-square-foot facility helping soldiers with amputated limbs get back to some sense of normalcy. It is equipped with a state‑of‑the-art prosthetics lab, the finest rehabilitation technology, and world-class doctors. But what really makes it special are the soldiers who, under the most difficult of circumstances, bond together as a unit, each soldier helping his or her brothers and sisters to heal.

McRaven, the man charged with leading Operation Neptune Spear, the mission that successfully found and ultimately killed Osama bin Laden, loved to visit the ATC because it was like being on the grinder during morning SEAL calisthenics. Everyone harassed each other. They challenged one another. They wouldn’t let you feel sorry for yourself. “Stop your whining. So, you lost two legs. Who cares! Now you can get two new ones that will make you taller. Maybe then the girls will notice you.”

After spending an hour or so with several of special operations soldiers, Sgt. Maj. Thompson pulls Admiral McRaven aside. “Sir, there is one soldier here from the 25th Infantry Division that I would like you to meet.”

Back to Iraq

Brendan Marrocco, a headstrong wiseass considered smart by his friends but who preferred racing cars to taking exams during high school, arrived in Iraq on Halloween 2008. His unit (3rd Brigade, Alpha Company, 2nd Battalion, 27th Regiment) is stationed at Forward Operating Base Summerall, located 130 miles north of Baghdad near the town of Baiji. The mission of Brendan’s company is to root out terrorists, stop acts of terrorism, search for and seize weapons caches and maintain security in their area of operation. His twelve-month deployment is in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom. But there is little fight left in Iraq. Violence has diminished; American forces were dropping in number. Marrocco spends his days mostly on patrol, conducting occasional raids and lifting weights at the base’s makeshift gym.

An ear-splitting shockwave propels the vehicle skyward. Private Marrocco’s armored vehicle has rolled over a pressure wire and triggered a roadside bomb. He sees a flash of light against the black of the early morning. Armor-piercing explosive formed projectiles (EFPs) punch through his side of the door.

Back to Walter Reed Hospital

It didn’t take long for Admiral McRaven to figure out who Sgt. Maj. Thompson was talking about. Leaning against the wall is a young man balancing on his “shorties,” new prosthetics attached to what is left of his legs. The shorties raise him just inches off the ground and are the first step in preparing him for the more challenging full artificial limbs. Not only is he missing two legs, but the blast from the explosively formed projectiles has also severed both his arms, burned his neck, and left him with lacerations across his face. McRaven has seen a lot of amputees, but when the human form is so changed by either nature or the violence of man, it still takes his breath away.

The sergeant major notices the look in McRaven’s eye. “I know, sir,” he says, acknowledging the sorrow they both feel.

Turning from the sergeant major, McRaven walks over to the young man and takes a knee so that he can face him eye to eye. “Good afternoon,” he says. The wounded soldier looks up at McRaven, trying to determine what manner of uniform he is wearing. “You’re a general?” asks the soldier, looking at the four stars on McRaven’s chest.

“Well, an admiral, actually,” he says, smiling. “What’s your name?”

“Brendan Marrocco.”

Back to Iraq

The hidden roadside bomb kills Private Marrocco’s best buddy, Specialist Michael Anaya. Another soldier is severely wounded, while a fourth soldier riding in the truck barely receives a scratch. Roadside bombs do that—choose a soldier on the left but not the right.

Private Brendan Marrocco is gravely injured. Both of his arms and his right leg have been sheared off. His left leg is literally hanging by a thread. The entire left side of his face is broken, burned, and bleeding from shrapnel. Eight of his teeth are lost, and his left eardrum is pierced. His left carotid artery, one of two which carry blood from the heart to the brain, is severed, and 80% of Marrocco’s blood spills out onto the ground.

Marrocco is kept from bleeding to death by his platoon’s medic and fellow soldiers long enough to be transported to the US Army trauma hospital in Tikrit, Iraq.  At Tikrit he is resuscitated, stabilized and undergoes emergency surgeries.  Following the surgeries, Brendan is transported to the Joint Operating Base in Balad, Iraq, then to Landstuhl Medical Center, Germany and lastly to Walter Reed Army Medical Center in Washington, DC.  All this is accomplished within three days, a testament to the awesome capabilities and commitment of the men and women who serve our country.

Back to Walter Reed Hospital

“Looks like you had a rough go of it in Iraq,” says Admiral McRaven, a former Navy SEAL who once broke both his back and pelvis in a thousand-foot free-fall parachuting drill.

Brendan Marrocco, recently promoted to Army Specialist, looks to the ground where his legs would have been and quickly surveys the rest of the room packed with amputees. “Yeah, but not as bad as some of the guys,” he says.

McRaven is thunderstruck. “Not as bad as some of the guys?” he thinks. This man is missing all four limbs, has burns and cuts throughout his body, and he thinks someone else has it worse?

Standing next to Marrocco is another young man. “Sir, this is my brother Mike,” says Brendan. Mike has volunteered to leave his friends, his social life and his job in information technology at Citigroup in New York to move to Washington to take care of his younger brother. McRaven greets Mike, but he can tell Mike is devastated by what has happened to his younger brother. The sadness on his face is heartbreaking. McRaven turns back to Marrocco.

“Are they taking good care of you here?” he asks.

“Yes sir!” pipes Marrocco. “The docs and the nurses have been terrific, and I love being around the guys.”

“Anything I can do for you?”

Brendan doesn’t hesitate for a second. “Yes sir. I would like to get back to Hawaii and meet my company when they return from Iraq.”

McRaven, a Naval officer, pauses, reflecting on this inspiring young man whose life has been turned upside down, a man who, despite becoming the first U.S. soldier fighting in Iraq to survive quadruple amputation, has found a way to make the human condition, regardless of its form, seem perfect. He does his best to hide his feelings, but to no avail. The pity, sorrow, and regret he has for this wounded soldier is written all over his face.

Brendan Marrocco, an Army enlisted man, cocks his head, smiles peacefully and touches the four-star admiral with what remains of his right arm before boring a hole directly through McRaven’s eyes.

“Sir, I’m 24 years old. I have my whole life in front of me. I’m going to be just fine.”

Postscript: Brendan Marrocco got to Hawaii in time to greet the returning 25th Infantry Division. In 2012, he underwent a successful bilateral transplant that gave him two new arms. Today he travels the country telling his story and helping those he considers less fortunate than himself. One of his goals in life is to have a daughter, if only so he can answer the door when a date arrives and say the words, “You should see what happened to the other guy.”