Help a soldier out
Read the whole story ! ! !
OPERATION "CANCUN HONEYMOON"
Let's Send Purple Heart Recipient Cpl. Aaron Mankin And Mrs. Mankin To Mexico!
While serving as a Marine combat correspondent in Iraq, then Lance Corporal Mankin found himself one day in the heat of battle, riding in an assault vehicle and doing his job as the grunts fought, which was to record and write about the war. He was standing up in the open-topped vehicle as the battle raged when a massive improvised explosive device (IED) detonated right beside his vehicle. The blast sent the 26-ton vehicle and 16 Marines inside 10 feet into the air.
Six Marines were killed instantly. In the thick, black smoke of the totally destroyed "trac," Cpl. Mankin knew he was badly wounded: he could see the flames covering his body and feel the searing heat as his skin melted from his face, neck, arms, chest and back. Hurling himself out of the wreckage, he landed on the dirt and began rolling to try to put the flames out, but they would not go out. He rolled and rolled and rolled, all the while thinking he was about to die. His final thoughts that day were of hearing his brother Marines from other vehicles shouting "Put him out! Put him out!"
Then, darkness.
As the blackness enveloped the young, perpetually happy, outgoing Marine, God checked his master plan. Turning to the chapter on Cpl. Mankin, he read that the Marine's life was incomplete, that the Marine journalist had more work to do and things to accomplish, and that he was scheduled in the master plan to raise a family.
God brushed the darkness away and switched on the light.
Cpl. Mankin opened his eyes so see his mother. He was in a special hospital that specializes in massive burn injuries, and Cpl. Mankin had those. His face was criss-crossed with scars. His throat was burned away so he had a breathing tube. The skin on his arms had melted away and his right hand was almost unrecognizable. His ears were almost gone, leaving a hole in each side of his head. His nose was a charred lump of remnant flesh.
In the many months and seemingly countless surgeries that followed (he has many more to go, too), hideous pain would be Cpl. Mankin's constant companion. That pain is physical as well as mental, and he knows that when people see him for the first time, they are stunned. Some gasp. Some cry. Some pray. Some look away. But Cpl. Mankin doesn't feel sorry for himself. He decided one day in the hospital that he would never feel sorry for himself, and no matter of how much pain he was in and how tired he was, he would press on, because that's what Marines do.
Cpl. Mankin is married and he and his wife have one daughter (15 months old) and another child on the way. Because his wife was also a Marine when they got married, they never got a honeymoon.
Go to KOA in Denver's website for the rest of the story!
Read the whole story ! ! !
OPERATION "CANCUN HONEYMOON"
Let's Send Purple Heart Recipient Cpl. Aaron Mankin And Mrs. Mankin To Mexico!
While serving as a Marine combat correspondent in Iraq, then Lance Corporal Mankin found himself one day in the heat of battle, riding in an assault vehicle and doing his job as the grunts fought, which was to record and write about the war. He was standing up in the open-topped vehicle as the battle raged when a massive improvised explosive device (IED) detonated right beside his vehicle. The blast sent the 26-ton vehicle and 16 Marines inside 10 feet into the air.
Six Marines were killed instantly. In the thick, black smoke of the totally destroyed "trac," Cpl. Mankin knew he was badly wounded: he could see the flames covering his body and feel the searing heat as his skin melted from his face, neck, arms, chest and back. Hurling himself out of the wreckage, he landed on the dirt and began rolling to try to put the flames out, but they would not go out. He rolled and rolled and rolled, all the while thinking he was about to die. His final thoughts that day were of hearing his brother Marines from other vehicles shouting "Put him out! Put him out!"
Then, darkness.
As the blackness enveloped the young, perpetually happy, outgoing Marine, God checked his master plan. Turning to the chapter on Cpl. Mankin, he read that the Marine's life was incomplete, that the Marine journalist had more work to do and things to accomplish, and that he was scheduled in the master plan to raise a family.
God brushed the darkness away and switched on the light.
Cpl. Mankin opened his eyes so see his mother. He was in a special hospital that specializes in massive burn injuries, and Cpl. Mankin had those. His face was criss-crossed with scars. His throat was burned away so he had a breathing tube. The skin on his arms had melted away and his right hand was almost unrecognizable. His ears were almost gone, leaving a hole in each side of his head. His nose was a charred lump of remnant flesh.
In the many months and seemingly countless surgeries that followed (he has many more to go, too), hideous pain would be Cpl. Mankin's constant companion. That pain is physical as well as mental, and he knows that when people see him for the first time, they are stunned. Some gasp. Some cry. Some pray. Some look away. But Cpl. Mankin doesn't feel sorry for himself. He decided one day in the hospital that he would never feel sorry for himself, and no matter of how much pain he was in and how tired he was, he would press on, because that's what Marines do.
Cpl. Mankin is married and he and his wife have one daughter (15 months old) and another child on the way. Because his wife was also a Marine when they got married, they never got a honeymoon.
Go to KOA in Denver's website for the rest of the story!
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