Cairo Association of Teachers - Newsletter

CAT Tracks for August 9, 2008 NG - PART VII - CONCLUSION

Part VII: Homecoming, struggles and new beginnings

By Sharon Cohen, The Associated Press

The plane loaded with soldiers descended slowly in the summer sky as Sgt. John Kriesel watched eagerly on the tarmac, clutching a cane. He had been waiting for this reunion for more than seven months.

Kriesel hadn't seen his guys since he lost his legs in a roadside bombing in Iraq. Now, on this bright day at Volk Field in Wisconsin, the soldiers who served with him -were home after a 22-month tour of duty, including 16 months in Iraq.

Standing firmly on his prosthetic legs, Kriesel beamed as a long line of soldiers formed.

One by one, Kriesel greeted them with hugs, hand shakes, smiles and jokes.

"You look good!" a friend said. "You look better than me."

"No, I don't," Kriesel replied. "YOU look good. You got legs, bro."

Staff Sgt. Tim Nelson, who was Kriesel's roommate in Iraq and squad leader, jumped ahead in line and the two men embraced, holding each other tightly. Nelson was in the Humvee seat behind him when it ran over an IED.

"Good to see you, dude," Kriesel said to Nelson. "I heard you yelling, and I wasn't going to let go."

Staff Sgt. Todd Everson was also there. He was one of Kriesel's rescuers, binding his left leg in a tourniquet.

"I'd be dead without you," Kriesel said.

The next day, as Kriesel watched the soldiers' formation at Fort McCoy, they surprised him by shouting, whistling, waving - and pointing to the place he had always stood.

Kriesel walked over and took his regular spot. His battalion commander pinned the Combat Infantryman Badge and the Bronze Star on his chest.

For Kriesel and others who were part of the 1st Brigade Combat Team/34th Infantry Division, the summer of 2007 was a time of reunions and readjustment. Most had been gone nearly two years.

When Janelle Johnson ran off the bus at Camp Ripley in Little Falls, Minn., she was amazed to see how big her two daughters looked. Emily, who'd been just 6 months old when she left, didn't want to come to her mother or pose for a family photo and when the little girl relented, she clung to her father.

A general watching the scene put a comforting hand on Janelle's shoulder.

"It'll get better," he whispered.

And it has. Over the last year, while continuing to work for the Guard, Janelle has settled back into motherhood.

Seth and Alicia Goehring are expanding their family. They're expecting their second child in August, a girl.

Cassandra Houston entered a nursing program in college - something she postponed when she went to Iraq.

She had to adjust, too, to changes at home. During her 22-month absence, her son, Josh, turned 16, got his driver's license and his first car.

Chad Malmberg came home to glory.

On Sept. 22, 2007, hundreds of friends, family and dignitaries gathered to watch him receive the Silver Star for his bravery during a January firefight.

Malmberg "deliberately and courageously exposed himself to enemy fire in order to prevent the enemy from assaulting through the kill zone and overwhelming his convoy," the citation read. "His selfless actions prevented the enemy from turning the tide of the battle and undoubtedly saved the lives of his soldiers."

The medal now hangs on the wall, and the hero gets gone on with life. He finished Minnesota State University at Mankato with a 3.4 grade point average and soon will enter the St. Paul, Minn., police academy.

Adjusting again

For Dathan Gazelka, it wasn't easy to put aside military rigor when he returned home and went to rejoin his wife, Mandy, in the real estate business.

He likes clear rules. Yes or no. Not maybe - or, I'll think about it overnight.

He had an unorthodox sales pitch to prospective home buyers: "Listen, we're going to look at three houses today and you're going to buy one of them."

Mandy found herself doing damage control.

And so, when the National Guard invited him to return to his job as a recruiter, Dathan quickly accepted.

And he has a second job now: being a father. Mandy gave birth to Nyah last July.

J.R. Salzman was relieved to be back in Wisconsin after nine months at Walter Reed Army Medical Center.

His wife, Josie, was happy. But she worried, too. When they traveled to a Minnesota veterans hospital, she noticed that her husband - who had lost his lower right arm - was the youngest patient by far. She wondered whether the government would be there helping them for the next 50 years.

Both Salzmans enrolled at the University of Wisconsin-Stout.

College life wasn't easy for J.R. His memory failed him often. He missed classes because he couldn't remember his schedule. He had trouble focusing. Then one day he read a report about traumatic brain injury.

He reviewed the symptoms - confusion, anxiety, memory problems - and realized he had every one. Then he discovered from his Walter Reed records there was something he had been unaware of: He had minor traumatic brain injury.

As the months passed, Salzman improved. His memory got better. And he took a big step toward returning to his old life. It happened when he and Josie visited Lumberjack Days in Stillwater, Minn. - trailed by an ESPN crew chronicling his recovery.

"You're going to log roll," Josie told him. "You're done putting it off."

Wearing his prosthetic arm, he stepped onto the log. First tentatively, then more confidently, he took a few steps. He rolled for a few seconds, stopped, then rolled some more, getting into the rhythm.

He smiled broadly. He could still roll.

The fallen remembered

In the year since he arrived home, Col. David Elicerio has traveled to several states, advising Guard units, telling them what to expect when they are deployed.

In May, the colonel was on hand for the unveiling of a "Fallen Heroes" memorial to Minnesota soldiers who died.

Elicerio also carries his own personal memorial: a chain with replicas of 21 dog tags, each bearing the name of a 1st Brigade soldier who died in Iraq.

Every time a soldier in his command was lost, Elicerio wrote the family a letter, vowing to remember their sacrifice. He feels those tags are holding up part of his end of the bargain.

One bears the name of Staff Sgt. Joshua Hanson.

Nearly two years have passed since his death but for his parents, Robert and Kathy, there still are days when they feel he might call or walk into the room.

Their home is filled with memories of Josh. His room remains the way it was when he left it. His military medals rest on a corner table in the dining room, illuminated with a prayer candle.

A grateful man

John Kriesel knows how close he came to death. He's determined to savor every minute of life.

In December, he, Katie and the boys moved into a wheelchair-accessible house - built by a construction company for cost and paid for with two fundraisers.

Kriesel is taking broadcasting classes at a local college. He interns at a sports radio station.

This fall, he'll start a marketing job with the Guard, working with sports teams, the media and businesses.

In the mirror, he can still see the faint scars of war etched on his 26-year-old face. And sometimes, he has tingly phantom sensations as if his feet were still there. He realizes, of course, he'll never have the feel of walking on freshly cut grass or a plush carpet. He does not dwell.

He is a grateful man. Every night, he kisses his two sons as they go to sleep. Every morning, he hops in his wheelchair, showers and puts on his legs.

There's no time to waste. Next summer, he intends to start running again.

EDITOR'S NOTE: The story of 1st Brigade Combat Team/34th Infantry Division of the Minnesota National Guard and its tour in Iraq was reconstructed from scores of interviews with more than 20 soldiers and members of their families.