"THANKS" from a veteran

For Veterans Day, I want to thank each and every service member who has ever stepped foot on foreign soil.

I initially joined the army in December of 1991 and left for basic training the next August.

I dropped out of community college after one quarter and had recently been arrested for underage drinking. To say that my life was going nowhere was an understatement.

Besides an uncle that served in the army for a couple of years in the 50’s, I had no one in my family that had ever served in any of the Armed Forces. For the record, I do have a great –great grandfather that joined the Confederacy in April of 1865. I’m not sure he ever made it out of the county, as the war ended on April 9, 1865.

I have so much respect for those who served in previous wars. The origin of Veterans Day can be traced back to honoring the veterans of WWI. Those that served in WWII were truly the cream of the crop of The Greatest Generation. I have a great deal of respect and admiration for those that served in the Korean War, which, sadly, is often referred to as The Forgotten War. The veterans of Vietnam deserve our respect, appreciation, and support now more than ever. The way they were treated upon their return from war is a sad chapter in our nation’s great history, but there is ample time to make it up to them.

According to a recent report, there is only one surviving American veteran from WWI. One would have to visit Charles Town, West Virginia to give proper thanks to Mr. Frank Buckles. There are many more survivors of WWII; however, they are dying at an alarming rate of more than 1,000 a day. Quite simply, these great Americans are responsible for our very way of life. There is still time to go out of your way and pay proper respect for these immortal heroes. For most, a sincere “thank you” will suffice. For others, maybe they’d be more inclined to lunch at the Piccadilly Cafeteria.

I touched on each of the major conflicts from the 20th century for a number of reasons. Those that served the United States in the aforementioned conflicts did so for a variety of reasons ranging from love of country to having their draft card pulled. I joined for neither reason.

Now make no mistake about it; I love my country. There is not a greater nation on this earth and there is nowhere other than the USA that I will ever call home. Having said that, I initially joined the army because my life was going nowhere and fast at that. Bear in mind that I enlisted after the first Gulf War, so there wasn’t too much going on in the world. I loved my country vehemently, but the nation wasn’t exactly calling for the best and brightest to step up to the plate at that time. I joined because I needed direction in life and I prayed that the army could provide the much needed guidance.

Not only did I enlist, but I also persuaded my best friend, Shea, to enlist, as well. Before going down for my physical, my recruiter told me “not to be doing all that stuttering” and informed Shea not to have an asthma attack or each of us would be disqualified from serving. Well, I just shook my head a lot and Shea had no problems breathing, and we passed the physical with flying colors. Although we did not go in on the buddy system, our paths did cross during our combat medical training at Fort Sam Houston, Texas, and again while I was stationed at Fort Sill, Oklahoma, and he was at one of our satellite units in Arkansas.

Enlisting in the army was, hands down, the greatest decision I ever made in my life. The first time I put on the uniform and laced up the boots, I realized that I was part of something special. I took great pride in wearing a military uniform for the United States of America. I never played sports in high school, but I could never imagine suiting up for a better team. By the way, my feet were killing me after that first day.

After the completion of my training in January of 1993, I was assigned to what was then known as Landstuhl Army Regional Medical Center (LARMC) in Germany. The word “Army” has since been dropped from its official name, and as a reference point, this is where today’s wounded warriors from the conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan are transported on a daily basis.

I was a medic working on the orthopedic ward on that fateful day in October of 1993 when all the Army Rangers were flown in from Somalia. Glued to CNN, we had seen the events that had unfolded in Mogadishu the previous day. We knew that it was only a matter of time before we got really busy. Up to that point, Private First Class Fuller had only taken care of soldiers, retirees, and family members recovering from routine orthopedic surgery.

I took great pride in my job before the, soon to be famous, Blackhawk Down incident but being able to truly serve these great heroes in their time of need is still one of the highlights of my life. Anyone who saw the movie can only imagine what these guys went through. I sincerely felt that I made a difference. Sadly, there was no mention of a stuttering medic anywhere in the movie.

The following year, there was a mortar explosion in Sarajevo that killed 68 people and injured in excess of 200. It was once again time to batten down the hatches because we were about to get busy. The powers that be at Landstuhl discharged all noncritical patients, cancelled all elective surgeries, and put every swinging soldier on alert.

If my memory serves correct, there were between 70 and 80 soldiers flown in from the massacre in Mogadishu. On this day in early February 2004, the patients rolled in one after another. Not only did we bring in those injured in the most recent attack but also those that had been injured from previous skirmishes. When all was said and done, over 400 patients from Sarajevo had all but occupied LARMC. For as long as I live, I will never forget the vile odor of gangrene that emanated from some of these kind-hearted and grateful individuals upon their arrival. Neither will I forget the constant challenge in preventing them from trying to smoke in the hospital, particularly those wearing oxygen.

Unlike the rangers who were whisked in and out, these folks stayed with us for several weeks. Once again, there was an injection of pride, knowing that we were doing something good for mankind. I was only able to participate in such a life altering event, because I made the decision to serve my country and represent the United States of America.

In February of 1995, Specialist Fuller reported to Fort Sill, Oklahoma, home of the Field Artillery. I was assigned to the 1/17th Field Artillery as a combat medic.

On the morning of April 19, 1995, I was listening to the radio when there was breaking news of an explosion at the Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City. I will never forget watching those events unfold on television and getting the word that all medics were on call to provide medical aid in OKC should our services be needed. We never did get the call. To this day, I’m not sure if that was a good thing or not. It would have been an honor to help our fellow Americans but quite upsetting at the same time.

Although I was very proud to serve in this great unit with many great men, my time there was quite uneventful. We simply trained and were always assigned with meaningless tasks such as mowing, weed-eating, and picking up garbage. By now, I felt that I had the discipline, direction, and tools to give myself a shot at living a productive and respectable life. My enlistment was coming to an end and there would be no reenlistment ceremony for Fuller.

I was very proud of my 4 years that I gave to the army. On occasion, people would thank me for my service. Although thankful for their appreciation, something was missing. Sure I served honorably, but I was never put in harm’s way, excluding some of the back alleys of Frankfurt. I always wanted to deploy and always wanted to be awarded a combat patch so I could wear that proudly on my right shoulder for eternity.

I wasn’t quite sure what I wanted to do after college. I had interviewed at various sales jobs prior to graduation but wasn’t very optimistic about working just to make money for someone else. Greatly assisted by the Montgomery G.I. Bill, I graduated from Auburn University at Montgomery in August of 2001. Still trying to figure out what I wanted to do with the rest of my life, I was awakened by a phone that would not stop ringing on the morning of September 11, 2001.

To make what has already been a long story a little bit shorter, I reported to Officer Candidate School (OCS)at Fort Benning, Georgia on September 11, 2002. This time, I joined for all the right reasons. I didn’t have to join because I was out of options. I joined because I felt there could be nothing greater than serving one’s nation in time of war. This time, our nation was calling our brightest and best and whether I was the brightest or the best is debatable, but I was there to answer the call nonetheless.

Graduating OCS was and still is my greatest achievement, and in January 2003, Second Lieutenant Fuller was sworn in as a commissioned officer in the United States Army. After completion of my Officer Basic Course at Fort Eustis, Virginia, I was assigned to the 3rd Brigade of the 2nd Infantry Division at Fort Lewis, Washington. We were first Stryker Brigade in the army and were gearing up to deploy in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom. I couldn’t have been happier.

Located near Virginia Beach, Ft. Eustis is approximately 3,000 miles away from Washington State. Knowing that I was deploying to Iraq and not knowing if I’d ever get the opportunity to drive across country again, I took 28 days of leave and zig-zagged my way across America to the tune of 9,880 miles. I found my way from the Shenandoah Valley in Virginia to Paradise Valley in Montana. I explored Mammoth Cave in Kentucky and the Grand Canyon in Arizona. I saluted the great Americans that are forever engraved on Mount Rushmore and stood in awe at the beauty of Crater Lake in Oregon. I got lost in Yellowstone National Park and again in Yosemite.

I share this adventure with you for a couple of reasons. I want you to know how much I love America. I not only saw the best of what America has to offer as far as its unparalleled scenic wonders but also to convey to you the kindness and generosity that was bestowed upon me at every stop I made. I don’t know if it was the numerous duffel bags in the Jeep or the high and tight hair cut, but everyone knew I was military. Everyone said thanks for serving; some by buying my lunch, some by getting me a cold beer, and some by just a good, old-fashioned, sincere “thank you.”

We deployed to Iraq in November of 2003 and returned a year later. As a platoon leader, sadly, I lost two of my soldiers in April of 2004. Phillip Rogers died instantly on April 4 and Tyanna Felder died 3 days later from injuries sustained from the same road side blast. Our battalion lost another about a month later. Sergeant Rubaclava was killed instantly during a mortar attack while leaving the dining facility in Mosul. A month after we redeployed, a suicide bomber, disguised as an Iraqi security officer, entered the same dining facility in Mosul killing 22 personnel, including 14 soldiers. It’s surreal to think that we ate there 3 times a day.

When I wasn’t playing Lieutenant Fuller, I was often found onstage performing my brand of stand-up comedy as Jody Fuller, The Stuttering Comic. One of my performances from Iraq was submitted to an online comedy competition and the rest is history, albeit my own. Having felt that I had truly served my country when it needed me most, I decided not to reenlist and to pursue a career in stand-up comedy. I could still serve my country by performing frequently for the troops, along the lines of Bob Hope.

My service obligation ended in 2006 and it was bittersweet. I knew I would miss the camaraderie with the troops, but I certainly would not miss waking up early, running, and shaving.

Four months later, I enlisted in the Alabama National Guard. I really missed serving. I missed the camaraderie and the adventure. I missed the pride in the wearing of the uniform.

Nine months later, I had deployment orders in hand once again. I was assigned to the 1203rd Engineer Battalion based out of Dothan, Alabama. Our mission in Iraq would be to serve as the battalion headquarters for several National Guard engineering companies from literally all over America. Our subordinate units were as follows: 224 Engineer Company (EN CO) from Oregon, 817 EN CO from North Dakota, 288 EN CO from Mississippi, 182 EN CO from Massachusetts, and 833 EN CO from Iowa. After training at Fort McCoy, Wisconsin, we deployed to Iraq for nearly a year. Our mission was to safely clear the routes of Improvised Explosive Devices (IEDs) and we exceeded all expectations as the number of IEDs was reduced by more than 90%.

We returned safely from Iraq in early summer of 2008. We lost one soldier who, unfortunately, died as a result of a self-inflicted gunshot wound.

Soon, I plan to resurrect my career in stand-up comedy but I will continue to serve in the National Guard for as long as they will have me. There is nothing greater than believing in something bigger than yourself, except for actually serving something bigger than yourself.

My best friend Shea also left the army in 1996 after the completion of his 4-year enlistment. After receiving his Masters Degree in Social Work from the University of Alabama, he continued to serve by going to work for the Department of Veterans Affairs in Shreveport, Louisiana. Several days before I deployed in 2007, I, Captain Fuller, had the honor of swearing Second Lieutenant Shea Wilkes into the United States Army Reserves. He is currently deployed to Afghanistan in support of Operation Enduring Freedom.

I believe there are a lot of men and women in uniform with similar stories such as mine. Maybe we didn’t initially join for the same reasons as our grandfathers but after the events of 9/11 everything changed. People were chomping at the bit to serve because we were attacked. We certainly understand the importance and the history of what it means to be a soldier, airmen, sailor, or marine. Those who serve honorably always support their Commander in Chief, regardless of their political persuasion, and will answer their nation’s call.

Over 4,000 American troops have lost their lives during the Global War on Terror and thousands more have been severely wounded. They served voluntarily so others wouldn’t have to serve involuntarily.

During my latest deployment, there wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t receive a letter, a post card, an email, or a package from a grateful American.

Over the years, the support for the Global War on Terrorism has dwindled; however, the support for the troops has never been higher. On behalf of each and every service member who has ever stepped foot on foreign soil, I want to thank each and every one of you for your past, current, and future support.

God Bless America.