A couple weeks ago I unfortunately had to find out about another one of my old Army friends that died well after his military service. He was one of our medics, not in my platoon but he was in my company so I got to know him pretty well. He helped me out on a number of occasions and I was happy to call him a friend. I’m not sure how he died, but it’s very sad that he is not the first friend I have lost since coming home from our deployment. I have had a handful of friends take their own lives since coming home for various reasons. There is never a good way to lose someone you care about but it hurts even worse when they go well before their time.

Chris was another one of our medics. Medics are revered in the military because they are the most selfless people in the world. Our medics volunteered to go into combat to care for those who were wounded. They carried weapons but their main tools were medical bags and their weapons were usually slung over their shoulder and not used. I’m certain I’m not the only person to say this, but I couldn’t have picked better medics to trust with my life then the ones that we had. They demonstrated time and again that they were more than willing to endanger their own lives to help protect and save the rest of us. Including when I was wounded, my memory of that is a bit fractured but the one thing I’ll never forget is when I woke up the first person I saw come to help was my friend Darrin, who was my medic. He dismounted from his vehicle and ran through an active combat zone with bullets flying around to come help us. He risked his own life to make sure mine was ok, and that’s something I’ll never forget!

Our medics had an incredible amount of pride in what they did. They were the first line of medical care and often the ones that were responsible for whether a soldier lived or died. And they took it very hard when they weren’t able to save someone. They certainly didn’t try to make you feel good, but they would do anything under the sun to save your life, including sacrificing their own. We had a medic that was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross (second highest medal behind the Medal of Honor) for crawling inside of a burning tank to help evacuate injured soldiers. This same medic at other times had a bullet ricochet off of his helmet, was shot in the arm, and had a water bottle shot out of hand while holding it to his face to take a drink, and they kept doing their job. I’ve written before about one of my friends that was shot in the head by a sniper, and our medic couldn’t save him as he was killed instantly, but while I was shooting back at the bad guys I saw our medic wrapping his head in cloths to prevent what was left in his head from spilling out. It wasn’t necessary since he had already died, but it was all he could to preserve what was left. They showed an unbelievable amount of care and selflessness in the worst of situations. I’m still in awe of the medics I served with, two of which are no longer alive.

These men embodied what it means to me to be a hero. Not merely because they helped me when I needed it, but because they helped everybody that needed it, when they needed it, no matter the danger that they had to put themselves in and no matter the consequences of doing so.