J.R. Salzman is an Iraq War veteran and writer, and today is the seventh anniversary of the IED blast that changed his life. On Facebook, he gave thanks to his family and friends (and strangers) who have helped him along the way.
It was seven years ago today that I nearly lost my life on a war torn road in NW Baghdad. Through the grace of God, I survived the roadside bomb, but not without severe, life-changing injuries. I have done my best to persevere and not take one moment for granted since that fateful day. While I feel that I have been able to accomplish great things despite my injuries (with more planned), I will readily admit I did not get here on my own. Thank you to my family, friends, loved ones, and all the complete strangers who have opened their hearts and helped me get where I am today. I could not have done it without you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.
Salzman then began tweeting his account of that day seven years ago.
December 19, 2006. 22:17, Checkpoint 52A, Route Tampa, Baghdad, Iraq. pic.twitter.com/21flBvIqlu
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
I woke up to the sound of my gunner screaming. “F-k, f-k, f-k, f-k!!” He was brushing and patting down his legs. I’m not sure if it was…
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
…because he thought his legs were on fire, or from the searing burn of hot copper shrapnel & bone fragments that entered his legs.
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
Everything was suddenly very loud. Our gun truck had somehow come to a stop on the MSR. The road through the windshield was unusually dark.
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
Usually lit up like daylight with eight spotlights in front of our gun truck, it was now barely lit by a couple of surviving lights.
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
The smell of burning copper, electronics, and flesh was thick in the air to the point of being nauseating.
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
It’s a smell I will never forget, a smell that permeates some of my surviving gear to this very day. It still reminds me of death.
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
After a second or two of dazed confusion, I said out loud in a pleading, quiet, murmur to myself, “Oh Josie! Oh Josie!”
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
This was only my fourth mission out since I returned from my two week R&R back home.
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
My young wife of nine months was fresh on my mind, even if we had only spent a total of three weeks together as a married couple.
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
“I can’t feel my arm!” I groaned. I was trying to open my humvee's passenger side door.
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
Instinctively reaching for the door handle with my right hand, I repeatedly tried to push the opening lever but to no avail.
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
I finally looked down at my arm to see why it was starting to burn like hell, and quickly realized why I couldn’t open my humvee door.
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
Where my right hand and wrist had been seconds earlier was now a mangled chunk of flesh, veins, and tendons.
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
Two white bones protruded an inch past the mangled flesh. The burning pain was unbelievable.
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
"Oh shit” I thought to myself, “I need a tourniquet”. I was surprisingly calm about it. My right hand and wrist were completely gone.
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
My training kicked in. Months of monotonous, repetitive training we bitched about was now telling me what to do amidst the pain & confusion.
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
I looked down at my left hand to see that it was still there, but not fully functioning. I could only move my thumb, index, & middle finger.
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
Even through the Olive Drab flight glove still covering my left hand, I could tell it was extremely mangled and starting to swell.
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
How the hell am I supposed to get a tourniquet on now,” I thought to myself.
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
I always made a point to carry an extra homemade tourniquet in my left lower cargo pocket.
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
Composed of engineer’s tape, a Gatorade bottle seal, and tongue depressors taped together, it took seconds to apply.
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
This was of course in addition to the fancy Army issue one contained in the first aid kit on my body armor.
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
The medics warned us if you really cranked down on them they could break. Never leaving anything to chance, I carried mine around for months
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
It would do little good now. With one hand completely gone & the other mangled there was no way in hell I could apply a tourniquet to myself
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
“F-k! I need someone to give me a tourniquet!” I thought. I wasn’t sure what everyone else in the convoy was doing.
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
We were gun truck #1, the scout truck for a twenty fuel tanker convoy, so we were at least 200 meters ahead of everyone else.
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
Doc Krisko, our medic, was way back in gun truck #3 so we could maneuver him wherever he might be needed.
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
Still sitting inside our idling humvee, I tried repeatedly using my left thumb to key my radio, but to no avail. Great, now what do I do.
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
I wasn’t sure of the status of my driver and gunner, although at that moment they were regretfully the furthest thought from my mind.
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
Even if they needed help, there was nothing I could do in my state. I could hear them talking, but not over the headsets as usual.
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
Hey!” I said to them in an authoritative tone.”Get on the radio, and get a hold of truck #3 and get the medic up here!"
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
"My right arm’s been blown off and if I don’t get a tourniquet on I’m going to bleed out!”
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
I was surprisingly calm as I said it, as if I was issuing one of the many commands I did on these missions.
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
They frantically tried to call anyone on the radio. First my gunner Specialist Oliver, then my driver, Specialist Fahlin.
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
I looked over at SPC Fahlin for the first time as he keyed his radio and tried calling over the convoy net.
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
"Truck three this is truck one…Three this is one….” He shook his head no, and said “nothing”.
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
Little did we know, but every piece of electronic navigation or communication equipment in my truck was completely destroyed in the blast.
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
The new Harris radios, FBCB2 navigation & communication computer, & everything else was nothing more than a smoldering pile of electronics.
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
“I’m gonna see if I can yell to them”, Oliver said. Truck 2 was creeping up, looking for secondary IEDs, a common tactic used by insurgents.
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
"Hey! Hey!" Oliver shouted at them, "We need to get Doc up here! Salzman’s f-ked up! His arm is f-king gone!”
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
As I sat in my gun truck, waiting for the medic to arrive, I started to check myself over.
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
I knew there was no way I could get a tourniquet on my missing right arm by myself so I did the only thing I could do.
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
I took my mangled, glove covered left hand and cupped it over the missing end of my right arm, over the two bones sticking out.
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
It didn't make my missing right arm bleed any less but it made me feel better nonetheless. I was slowly bleeding out.
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
I checked my body over for other injuries. I shuffled my feet back and forth. I moved my legs up and down. Everything was still intact.
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
"Sweet," I thought to myself. I can still log roll!
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
I always said regardless what happens to me in Iraq, as long as I still have my legs and I can still log roll I’d be happy.
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
I checked the rest of my body over. My manhood was still intact. I moved my chest and shoulders under my body armor. Everything felt intact.
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
The seconds ticked by like minutes as I waited for the medic to arrive. For a split second the thought of dying went through my mind.
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
No way. No fucking way am I dying here. Not here, not now, not in this country.
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
And that was the last time I ever thought about dying. pic.twitter.com/pGwwAvmzpg
— J.R. Salzman (@jrsalzman) December 20, 2013
All around awesome dude. RT@StevieJWest: Hero —> @jrsalzman
— Jules (@juleslalaland) December 20, 2013
@jrsalzman It is an honor to know you. Thank you for sharing your story.
— Jimmy (@JimmyPrinceton) December 20, 2013
https://twitter.com/dani_g_3/status/413902256505757696
@jrsalzman I don't know you but you are an inspiration to all. Thank you.
— Deborah FrmHell (@DebFrmHell) December 20, 2013
https://twitter.com/EayaReynolds/status/413903919786385408
@jrsalzman that was horrific and amazing. I am beyond words to convey to you my gratitude for your service and sacrifice. May you be blessed
— Iris Webb (@iriswebb) December 20, 2013
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