In Pace Paratus

New Year was great. Michael Bisping walked in AX while I was working. People were taking pictures with him and autographs, but my manager wouldn’t let me…lame. He’s huge…bigger than when I see him on TV. After he made his purchase he walked up to me and we talked about our predictions of upcoming UFC events….we have our differences indeed. Here I am talking to Britain’s most celebrated fighter, who’s a celebrity in the U.K. as well as the United States and he was so down to earth. He congratulated me on my win in Florida. I found out that he’s in Toronto to party and I thought to myself…you came to the wrong place….he should of stayed in Manchester, England. Then he asked me where to drink in the middle of the afternoon and I laughed and suggested Madison.

We were balling on New Years going club hopping. Was fun…the atmosphere was crazy towards the countdown. Some idiots decided to fight in the clubs to start out 2009. Good thing they didn’t lay their hands on any of my friends or else it would’ve been another story…

My friend…more like a brother is leaving on a mission in Afghanistan tomorrow. I’ve been there…I know this does mean life and death there. I remember calling you a “waste of skin” when we were kids. I know you still remember it to this day, because it didn’t sit well with you at that time. But it was the comment I regret saying most, even though it is a laughing matter between us now. In our circle of friends, there isn’t another as honorable as you. We got big plans when you return…you know we’ll all be waiting here…at least I’ll be. If anything happens…you told me I’d be the first to know and I’ll fan it out to the rest of them…but I wouldn’t know how to break it to them. Just come home in one peace. I remember in history class we both aspired to be soldiers at one point in our lives…just the timing was wrong and we couldn’t fight alongside each other in Afghanistan…in the end we both arrive at the same place in different time periods. But if we can fight alongside each other…what a great honor it would’ve been. I wish I could’ve offered a couple of advice before you left but I was too caught up in the moment.
You must in trust in yourself...the skills you’ve been taught. You are attached to such a great group of probably the best soldiers our country has to offer…believe in that. It seems both unfortunate and amazing that it’ll take battle and blood shed to forge such a strong bond. I know you aren’t emotionally ready at the moment, but you just cannot let it get the best of you...nows just not the time. In moments of pain and disparity...just look how far you've became...and press on. I’ll pray for you each and every night as you venture into harms way. When I think back on those times
when we played as kids and the childhood dreams we left behind to bigger and brighter achievements...I'll be glad because I was blessed to get to have you in my life...
Bro I do wish you all the best…I’m just in awe for words right now…I'm speechless...I'd take a bullet for you literally...but as you pulled out of my driveway I felt so helpless not being able to offer any help...not being able to take the pain for my friend...not being able to sacrifice for...my bro...

Since I’ve went over…I’ve kept it all the experiences to myself…these memories are demons that haunt me ever since. It’s hard to talk about it. But it’s necessary to spit the truth…or at least what I can remember from it…
It’s been 2 years that I was wounded in the battlefield. When I was in the hospital in KAF, I had hoped that I would stay in Afghanistan to recover. Why would I want to stay in such a horrible place that almost claimed my life? I didn’t want to leave my brethrens in battle. When I was transferred to the hospital in Dubai, it was all a blur of Morphine, Demerol, Fentanyl, IV lines, wound packing’s, shrapnel removal surgeries, catheters, bad food, and good care. But I remember closing my eyes in the hospital, only 2 images flash and they take me back to where I’m supposed to be. I see the location of Operation White November; the fields of pot. Rockets and bullets. The smell of burning and the heat. Then all I see are the bodies of soldiers I helped carry to the CCP. 2 covered by body bags and 2 on stretchers; my Team leader and a few soldiers I knew only casually from living in the shacks in Trenton.

When I close my eyes, I also see the morning after the fateful operation. Sparks, smoke, fire… then the burst of the main gun of the A-10. I remember the feeling of panic as I crawled for my weapon and PPE, thinking we were under attack. I can still feel the burning on my legs and back, the shock of thinking my legs were gone.
I can see the faces of the injured… the twice wounded soldiers of Green Team. I see the face of the soldier who saved my life by applying tourniquets to my legs and stopping the bleeding from my back and arm…

Our Squad Leader (who was also wounded) came over to me and asked if I was going to be able to play the pipes for the ramp ceremony the following day. I held up my right hand, which was numb, and looked at my fingers. The tips of 2 of them looked like they had been chewed up in a blender. I felt tears run down my face. Not because I thought I’d never play again, but because I couldn’t play for my departed brothers the next day… I would have given both of my hands and more for their lives.
I had hoped to attend the ramp ceremony the next day, even if I couldn’t play, but I couldn’t move my legs and they couldn’t put me in a wheel chair because of the shrapnel in my back. I was sedated that day. I couldn’t attend any of the funerals of my fallen family, and I feel no closure.
It has been a month and 2 years since I lost my brothers in Operation White November and it might as well have been yesterday.
When I close my eyes at night I not only see the ones who have paid the ultimate price, but also the ones who are still there… and I feel as though I am betraying them.

A warrior’s sword is made from the finest steel, forged by hammer and anvil to create and edge, baptized in hot coals and flame for strength, then quenched in cold water to harden it.

Our brotherhood of Warriors, the finest of men, has been forged by Battle; Baptized by fire and Quenched by tears…

We became and will always be a fraternity of blood with a bond stronger than death.

Come home safe bro! When you do come home, weary from war and firefights...I know for a fact that you'll never come home the same. The brother I used to know would be lost in the desert but in flesh you are still you just in a different frame of mind and probably a totally different mindset. You make us all proud to have a friend like you! Couldn’t ask for a better brother…even though I know that the 4 months