Wounded Warriors: Marine Paul
by Jim Miller
My father served in the United State Navy from the inception of World War II, and for a distinguished career thereafter. He did not spent much time talking about war stories, and to the extent he did, the stories were history, seeming to me to be far in the distance. But now, working with the Jimmy Miller Memorial Foundation’s (JMMF) Ocean Therapy program for the Wounded Warrior Battalion-West at CampPendleton, we hear a lot of war stories. They are fresh in the telling. The wounds are new; the healing only having just begun when we meet the Marines who join our program. It is a therapy program, after all, and therapy is supposed to lead to open discussion, and the discussion to help in the recovery.
But if you’ve never listened before, you’ve never observed before, meeting our brave Marines with fresh wounds and devastating injuries is a life changing experience for both the wounded and their new friends. And it is an inspiring experience because overriding all the wounds and injuries is the remarkable determination and the fervent desire to recover and rehabilitate.
Sometimes words don’t tell the story. That’s the case with Marine Paul. He joined Ocean Therapy three years ago. Our therapy at its core is based on surfing. Our volunteers are mostly surfers and lifeguards and beach people, working as a team with our professional staff of occupational, physical and psychological therapists. We work our program on the beach and in the surf at a spot called DMJs. The surfers all know it — Del Mar Jetty, on the very south end of theCampPendletonbase. The walk from the parking lot is a couple of hundred yards across the sand.
That first time Marine Paul approached our group at the water’s edge, he struggled toward us on crutches, dragging both legs. We rushed to help him through the sand. He didn’t want any help. If he was going to surf, he’d better be able to get to the surf. His left leg below the knee was useless—his word “useless.” It had no feeling, no ability to order its movement. It dangled, lifeless.
That day Marine Paul surfed. It took five volunteers to place him on the board, push him out through the waves, turn the board, and then guide him into some small white water. He felt the surge of the water and the force of the wave. He raised himself up on his elbows. He surfed, and he smiled, and he was stoked.
Marine Paul has been a steady participant in Ocean Therapy ever since. He’s gone through some ups and downs. He talks a lot now. He shares his joy of the ocean with us. And he shares his continuing challenges. Last month Paul came down to the ocean side again. He was once again on crutches. This time he dragged his one leg behind him. His left leg below the knee had been amputated. The stump of leg was wrapped in bandages. He couldn’t go in the water. The wounds from the surgery would have to heal first. But Marine Paul was there for the therapy, the discussion, the healing. And he’ll be back in the water soon. He’s looking forward to it because, as he has explained to everyone sitting around our talking circle — what the Marines have named the Kumbaya session — the next time Paul won’t have to contend with a useless leg. He will have a new, state of the art, water compatible artificial limb. He will be able to stand up on the surf board. The healing waves of Mother Ocean will crash all around him. We all will be stoked. DZ