I Am Still Here: One Soldier’s Story

Jason Seidel
The Signal
A lot of things change when you accept the fact that you are going to die.

We had less than two hours to go before we could head home for the night.

I just remember thinking about how hot it was when suddenly this massive force slammed against my team’s vehicle.  I remember bashing my head against the driver side door and then trying to control the vehicle while getting it to stop.

The next thing I recall was helping others out of the vehicle.  The dust and debris floating in the air made it hard to see.  Rusty’s leg looked pretty bad and kept spurting blood. Todd was holding his neck. I remember Kevin, who was in another vehicle, came over to check on me… and then nothing. It is a blank slate after that.

My next memory was lying awake in my bed back at base later that night, ears still ringing and head pounding. I was a specialist in the Army.  It was June 20, 2004.  It was only my fourth month in Iraq when I accepted the fact that I would not be going home alive.  I was 24.

The two men who received shrapnel wounds were Staff Sergeant Todd Hines and Sergeant Rusty Aldrich. Both men recovered from their wounds.

Our unit’s mission was to sweep and clear a length of heavily traveled highway of Improvised Explosive Devices (IED) and ambushes.

Enduring nearly 500 significant contacts, including 83 IED attacks, we often joked, “we found them all, one way or another.”

It was a long year. Twenty-six of the Troop’s 74 soldiers received wounds from enemy action and two soldiers made the ultimate sacrifice.

The first funeral I ever went to was for Specialist (SPC) Justin Johnson. I remember seeing his helmet resting on his rifle in typical military funeral fashion. I tried to keep it together but could not.  When the bagpipes began to play, I started crying hysterically and had to leave the auditorium.

At the end of our tour, I returned home without a scratch on me.  Physically.

I went through all of the evaluations, but no red flags were raised.

Life at home was difficult. I began to withdraw from the things I used to find fun.  I avoided being around busy places.  I always had to have a view of the door and I would give a threat assessment to anyone who walked through it.

My now ex-wife felt the distance growing between us; she began having an affair with one of my “battle buddies” only six months after I returned home.

I discovered the affair just months before I was to “out-process” from the Army.  It was the ultimate betrayal.

I now lovingly refer to her as my “Army-issued wife,” as our time together started just after completing Airborne training, which was part of my initial training upon entering the military, and ended shortly after my departure from the Army.

With my post-Army plans in shambles, my mental well-being in question and my faith in humanity destroyed, I returned home to my parents.

I was in a terrible place for months.

I made the conscience decision that I was not going to kill myself.  I had lived through 13 IED attacks on my convoy, three direct hits to my vehicle, one fire fight, a divorce, a betrayal by a trusted friend and I was still here. Ten fingers, 10 toes and everything in between.

That was seven years ago.

Since then, I have relocated to Texas.  I can’t explain why but I find the big open sky to be very therapeutic.  I took a few odd jobs here and there but struggled to find a decent job.

I decided four years ago that I would put the G.I. Bill to good use and return to school to further my education. I was also recently diagnosed by the Veterans Affairs with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) at a disability rate of 50 percent.

It hasn’t been easy, and some days are harder than others. I keep an eye on how much I’m drinking. My doormat reads “GO AWAY,” and I still don’t like being in crowds, but I’m still here.

I also met a girl, but that’s another story for another time.

There is a quote that I find gives me peace and a sense of justification: “People sleep peacefully in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf.”

I am still proud to have been one of those rough men.

To read Jason’s article “Forgotten Sons and Daughters” about the various issues student veterans face, click here.