The National Guard invited Dathan return to his job asa recruiter

Tag : rolled bronze
John Kriesel hadn’t seen his “guys” since he lost hislegs in a roadside bombing in Iraq. Now, finally, on this brightJuly day at Volk Field in Wisconsin, the soldiers who served withhim — several of whom he had known since high school —were home after a 22-month tour of duty, including 16 months inIraq.
And he was there to welcome them.
Wearing shorts, sunglasses and bright yellow running shoes andstanding firmly with his prosthetic legs, Kriesel beamed as a longline of soldiers formed, snaking from the plane’s stepsacross the tarmac.
One by one, Kriesel greeted them with hugs, hand shakes, smiles andjokes.
One soldier carried his battered M-4 weapon that survived the IEDattack. “Is that my rifle?” Kriesel exclaimed, touchingit again.
“You look good!” another friend said. “You lookbetter than me.”
“No, I don’t,” Kriesel replied. “YOU lookgood. You got legs, bro.”
Staff Sgt. Tim Nelson, who was Kriesel’s roommate in Iraq andsquad leader, jumped ahead in line and the two men embraced,holding each other tightly. Nelson was in the Humvee seat behindhim when it ran over an IED.
Nelson flew with Kriesel to the military hospital in Balad, Iraq,and held his hand when Kriesel’s survival was in doubt.
“Good to see you, dude,” Kriesel said to Nelson.“I heard you yelling and I wasn’t going to letgo.”
Staff Sgt. Todd Everson was also there. He was one ofKriesel’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 atFort 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 at the formation, andhis battalion commander pinned the Combat Infantryman Badge and theBronze Star on his chest.
For Kriesel and others who were part of the 1st Brigade CombatTeam/34th Infantry Division, the summer of 2007 was a time ofreunions and readjustment. Most had been gone nearly two years;their children had grown, their parents had aged, the world theyleft behind was different — and so were they.
When Janelle Johnson ran off the bus at Camp Ripley in LittleFalls, Minn., she was amazed to see how big her two daughterslooked. Emily, who’d been just 6 months old when she left,didn’t want to come to her mother or pose for a family photoand when the little girl relented, she clung to her father.
A general watching the scene put a comforting hand onJanelle’s shoulder.
“It’ll get better,” he whispered.“It’s going to be a long haul.”
And it has gotten better. Over the last year, while continuing towork for the Guard, Janelle has settled back into motherhood,reading bedtime stories to her girls and celebrating birthdays withthem, not missing them anymore.
Seth and Alicia Goehring, who got married by proxy, are expandingtheir family. They’re expecting their second child in August,a girl they’ll name Audrey Florence.
Others have picked up where they left off.
Dr. Joe Burns went back to the emergency room of a Fargo, N.D.,hospital, though he probably will return to Iraq next year.
Cassandra Houston entered a nursing program in college —something she postponed when she went to Iraq. Seeing so many needypeople in Iraq inspired her. She wants to work for a humanitarianorganization.
She had to adjust, too, to changes at home. During her 22-monthabsence, her son, Josh, turned 16, got his driver’s licenseand his first car. He proudly picked her up in the dented 1997Sunfire to take her home.
Chad Malmberg came home to glory.
On Sept. 22, 2007, hundreds of friends, family and dignitariesgathered to watch him receive the Silver Star for his braveryduring a January firefight.
Malmberg “deliberately and courageously exposed himself toenemy fire in order to prevent the enemy from assaulting throughthe kill zone and overwhelming his convoy,” the citationread. “His selfless actions prevented the enemy from turningthe tide of the battle and undoubtedly saved the lives of hissoldiers.”
The medal now hangs on the wall. And the hero has gone on withlife. He finished Minnesota State University at Mankato with a 3.4average and will enter the St. Paul, Minn., police academy inSeptember. For now, he works for the department, issuing parkingtickets.
In his first few days this spring, he was cussed out a half-dozentimes.
It didn’t upset him. He has been in tighter spots. Transitioning back to civilian life
For Dathan Gazelka, it wasn’t easy to put aside militaryrigor when he returned home and went to rejoin his wife, Mandy, inthe real estate business.
He hated wearing a coat and tie, wasn’t sure what to say, anddidn’t like Mandy being the boss.
He likes clear rules. Yes or no. Not maybe — or, I’llthink about it overnight.
He had an unorthodox sales pitch to prospective home buyers:“Listen, we’re going to look at three houses today andyou’re going to buy one of them.”
Made perfect sense to him. Mandy, of course, found herself doingdamage control.
And so, when the National Guard invited him to return to his job asa recruiter, Dathan (and Mandy) quickly accepted.
And he has a second job now: being a father. Mandy gave birth toNyah last July.
J.R. Salzman was relieved to be back in Wisconsin after nine monthsat Walter Reed Army Medical Center.
His wife, Josie, was happy to be back in her own bed, sitting onher own couch, watching her own TV. But she worried, too. When theytraveled to a Minnesota veterans hospital, she noticed that herhusband — who had lost his lower right arm — was theyoungest patient by far. She wondered whether the government wouldbe there helping them for the next 50 years.
Both Salzmans enrolled quickly at the University of Wisconsin-Stoutin Menomonie.
But college life wasn’t easy for J.R., who had stopped takingmedicine that made him groggy. He couldn’t sleep more thanthree or four hours a night.
His memory failed him often. He missed classes because hecouldn’t remember his schedule. He had trouble focusing. Thenone day, while researching a paper he read a report about traumaticbrain injury.
He reviewed the symptoms — confusion, anxiety, memoryproblems — and realized he had every one of them. Then hediscovered from his Walter Reed records there was something he hadbeen unaware of: He had minor traumatic brain injury. Bingo. It allmade sense.
As the months passed, Salzman improved. His memory got better. Andhe took a big step toward returning to his old life.
It happened last summer when he and Josie visited Lumberjack Daysin Stillwater, Minn. — trailed by an ESPN crew chroniclinghis recovery.
“You’re going to log roll,” Josie told him.“You’re done putting it off.”
She tied his tennis shoes and watched.
Wearing his prosthetic arm, he stepped onto the log. Firsttentatively, then more confidently, he took a few steps. He rolledfor a few seconds, stopped, then rolled some more, getting into therhythm.
He smiled broadly.
J.R. Salzman had to relearn how to tie his shoes, to write hisname. But log rolling? It came back naturally.
Just like he never was away. Remembering the fallen
In the year since he arrived home, Col. David Elicerio has traveledto several states, advising Guard units, telling them what toexpect when they are deployed to Iraq.
In May, the colonel was on hand for the unveiling of a“Fallen Heroes” memorial to Minnesota soldiers whodied. A sculpture of a helmet, a rifle and combat boots stands atopa granite slab inscribed with their names.
Elicerio also carries his own personal memorial: a chain withreplicas of 21 dog tags, each bearing the name of a 1st Brigadesoldier who died in Iraq.
Every time a soldier in his command was lost, Elicerio wrote thefamily a letter, vowing to remember their sacrifice. In a smallway, he feels those tags are holding up 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 callor walk into the room.
Their home is filled with memories of Josh. Outside, there’sa bench a friend made, with “Remember Sanchez,” hisnickname, carved in it. His old room remains the way it was when heleft it. The stuffed bass he caught as a boy, the Minnesota Twins1987 World Champion baseball pennant, the taekwondo belts.
His military medals rest on a corner table in the dining room,illuminated with a prayer candle.
On Aug. 30, the second anniversary of Josh’s death, a picnicshelter at Maplewood State Park, where Robert Hanson is a ranger,will be dedicated in Josh’s honor. Much of the work on theshelter was done by Josh’s Guard friends.
It will have a polished black granite marker inscribed with thewords: “YOU WILL NOT BE FORGOTTEN.” Moving forward
John Kriesel knows how close he came to death. He’sdetermined to savor every minute of life.
In December, he, Katie and the boys moved into awheelchair-accessible house — built by a construction companyfor cost and paid for with two fundraisers.
Kriesel is taking broadcasting classes at a local college. Heinterns at a sports radio station, where he’s on the air onemorning a week.
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 onhis 26-year-old face. And sometimes, he has tingly phantomsensations as if his feet were still there. He realizes, of course,he’ll never have the feel of walking on freshly cut grass ora plush carpet. He does not dwell on the past or his injuries
He is a grateful man. Every night, he kisses his two sons as theygo to sleep. Every morning, he hops in his wheelchair, showers andputs on his prosthetic legs.
There’s no time to waste. He’s got lots of plans. Evenfor next summer. That’s when he hopes to start running again.
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NOTE: The story of 1st Brigade Combat Team/34th Infantry Divisionof the Minnesota National Guard and its tour in Iraq wasreconstructed from scores of interviews with more than 20 soldiersand members of their families. Most quotations are as remembered bythe speakers. In addition, the series draws upon numerous officialdocuments, including after-action reports; videos of newsconferences; correspondence provided by the families (includinge-mails and letters); television coverage of the unit’sreturn; personal journals and blog postings. Related reading: Part I — Unit prepares to deploy Part II — Guardsmen arrive in Iraq Part III — Milestones made and missed Part IV — Devastating injuries Part V — Joy and tears Part VI — An ambush produces a hero