Charlie Potter doesn't wear a cape.
Charlie doesn't possess super-human strength. He can't leap tall buildings in a single bound. And he can tell you from experience that he is far from bullet-proof.
Charlie is, however, an Iraq war veteran, a Purple Heart recipient twice over and, along with the officer who initially recruited him, part of the team representing the Wounded Warrior Project in this year's Iron Dog Classic snowmobile race. The longest, toughest snowmobile race in the world, according to Iron Dog Executive Director Laura Bedard, the Iron Dog covers over 1,970 miles of Alaskan wilderness in 5 days, from Wasilla to Nome, then over to Fairbanks. Sub-zero temperatures are a matter of course, and racers routinely hit speeds of close to 100 mph.
Each team consists of two racers, each with their own snowmobile. Competitors must plan for every contingency imaginable, from weather conditions that can go from sunny and clear to whiteout in a matter of hours, to low-grade octane fuel, to being stuck in the middle of nowhere with no access to parts, equipment or extra fuel.
"The Iron Dog is a two-person team event, with 'team' being the key word," said Bedard, herself a member of the first all-woman team to compete in the Iron Dog in 1997. "Just being fast does not get you across the finish line. To finish, it takes a lot of preparation, and to win takes experience."
Like many young Alaskans, Potter, 24, grew up on a snowmobile, competing regularly on the Snocross circuit as well as in a number of cross-country races. By his junior year in high school, Potter knew he was looking for a challenge.
He found it with the Army Reserve. Potter enlisted right out of high school, despite knowing that his chances of being shipped overseas were better than average. He deployed to Iraq in 2004 with the 793rd Engineering Detachment, operating as a combat engineer.
"It was a shock when I found out I'd have to go," Potter said. "It was kind of rough for a day, but the reality was that I'd signed up for this, so it was time to take care of business and pay my dues."
In July of 2005, as Potter manned the .50-caliber machine gun atop his Humvee, a rocket-propelled grenade fired from the top of a building struck Potter's machine gun turret, nearly destroying his left arm. Shards of shrapnel also tore through his head and face, requiring plastic surgery; a titanium rod now occupies the space vacated by the crushed bone in his upper arm.
Two Purple Hearts and several reconstructive surgeries later, Potter returned to Alaska, determined not to let his injuries define him. He went to work for Sergeant First Class James Hastings, 40, the former Airborne Infantryman who had enlisted him, now recruiting for the Army National Guard. The two had become close during Potter's recruitment and discovered a shared passion for snowmobiling, which only strengthened their friendship.
Throughout his rehabilitation, Potter was aided by the Wounded Warrior Project (WWP), an organization that, according to its Web site,
www.woundedwarriorproject.org, "…provides programs and services to severely injured service members during the time between active duty and transition to civilian life." The Alaskan chapter of the project is sponsored by the Alaskan State Elks Association, of which Hastings is a ranking member. He now serves as the central Alaska district director. The WWP has been there for Potter and Hastings; the Iron Dog is their way of giving something back.
"This is about vets helping vets," Hastings said. "We're the shoulder to lean on and the hand on the back to help our buddies along."
That's not to say that a subtle push in the right direction isn't called for now and again.
"There comes a time when you have to take the hand off the back and put a boot in the butt," Hastings added. "It's a fine balance. I've led a soldier or two in my day, and I know what it takes to get me moving some days."
Potter agreed, attributing his faster than expected recovery to actively pursuing his rehabilitation, rather than passively accepting it.
"I'm an active person, I had to be out there doing stuff," said Potter. "I couldn't imagine just sitting around, playing on the computer all day when I could be out tearing it up on a snowmobile or doing something else I enjoy."
Looking for a way to raise money and awareness for the WWP, Potter and Hastings decided to use their love of snowmobiling as a way to get the word out. The Iron Dog, celebrating its 25th year as the toughest cross-country race in the country, seemed the ideal choice. For its part, the Iron Dog is honored to have them.
"Of course we appreciate the exposure that Charlie and James bring to the event," Bedard said. "But we appreciate more what they represent… the military uniform that gives all Americans freedom to participate in events like the Iron Dog. They are a reminder that we shouldn't take these privileges for granted."
Initially looking at running the shorter (but no less grueling) recreational Trail Class, the team decided to run the Pro Class, the result of a little good-natured ribbing on Potter's part.
"I'm beginning to think that maybe this was Charlie's way of getting back at me for enlisting him," Hastings said. "That pretty much sums up our relationship. I'm the slow-going big brother, I guess, and he's the fun, daring one."
The pair used Ski-Doo REV XP 600s for the bulk of their training, but opted for the Renegade 600 for the actual race, willing to trade a shorter track and smoother ride for a more lightweight machine that Hastings believed might prove to be a little more trustworthy when it counts. A typical training day began at 6 a.m., and the two would try to knock out at least 100 miles. That's followed by a physical fitness regimen, though it's the muscle between the ears that Potter and Hastings focused on the most.
"We're both pretty tough physically," Hastings said. "The hardest part is wrapping your head around just how far 1,970 miles is on a snow machine, and how hard that it is to do in 5 days on the trail. Being too sore, tired or sick just won't cover it."
Potter and Hastings will both admit to being very competitive, though they were realistic about their chances of finishing in the money on their first attempt.
"I honestly don't care if we finish last, as long as we finish," Potter said. "I'm the kind of person that wouldn't be able to live with myself if I let down the guy that made it possible for me to do this."
Unfortunately, Potter and Hastings ended up scratching in Skwentna due to mechanical problems and engine failure, but they put up a good fight.
In an event where colorful characters and inspiring stories are rarely in short supply, Potter and Hastings are proud of their affiliation with the WWP, and hope that their story will inspire those soldiers that are struggling with the acclimation process to keep the faith; help is there when they need it.
"Charlie is, and represents, the soldiers who volunteer to take their turn to serve so that others can enjoy their lives without fear or interference," Hastings said. "I am, and represent, the rest of us who can enjoy that freedom provided by our troops.
The bottom line is that if Charlie can do this, he can do anything. We want others to adopt this motto and reach for their goals."
Potter agreed.
"It's not easy, after being wounded, for a soldier to get back in the game," Potter said. "They just have to do it. Don't say you can't do something unless you've tried to do it. If you've tried it and still can't do it, try again."
For Hastings and Potter, a journey that started 6 years ago in the halls of the local high school has led them through the hell of war and back again to face new challenges.