My husband, my hero

Five years ago today, an Iraqi man strapped dozens of pounds of scrap metal to his chest and encased it with explosives. Over that he layered himself in clothing, then walked down a busy road patrolled by American marines and active with civilians.

That man tried to murder my husband.

He blew himself up within feet of Corporal David McCallen, Fifth Marines, from Camp Pendelton, Calif. (but born and raised in Central Ohio)...otherwise known as the love of my life.

I hadn't even met David yet, so I did not wake in the middle of night in a cold sweat, filled with an acute fear that something terribly wrong had happened. You hear all the time about wives and mothers who just KNOW when their loved ones serving overseas are injured or worse. I was lucky to be spared that feeling.

I didn't meet David until four months later, when he was still recovering from his wounds and living with his cousin, whose apartment door faced mine.

David unfolded to me the story of April 10, 2003, in one of the first days I met him. We spent a lot of time in those early weeks talking for hours, late into the night. He told me in cautious tones as much as he could at the time—and as much as he wanted... I still don't think he's ever shared it all, whether to protect me or his memories—and I listened in part awe and part horror of what he endured that day. If I were in his place, I would have been scared shitless (there just isn't a better word than that).

He was literally patrolling the street, gun in hand, with other marines from his unit. He has said that one of the challenges he faced was not knowing who was friend or foe. Iraqi militants don't dress in uniform, and suicide bombers don't wear signs that say "I'm a bad guy." So instead our marines (and soldiers) do their job, always waiting for the ball (or bomb) to drop. I can't imagine that feeling... knowing your life is constantly hanging in the balance.

And in David's case, the bomb DID drop, or rather, it exploded...into millions of pieces.

My husband may not look like an injured war veteran at first glance. Oh sure, he has the cantankerous personality of someone who's gone through something insane and lived to tell the tale... but you have to look closely to see the damage. He's happy to show you, too. The biggest pieces of shrapnel (some the size of a quarter or larger) are lodged in his thigh, which means he gets to strip for you to get a good look.

If you get kiss-me close to his amazing eyes, you can see that a large piece of shrapnel grazed his left eye, taking with it a chunk of eyelid and permanently removing 15 or so of his eyelashes. He was lucky he didn't lose that eye altogether.

Stare at his arm and elbow, and you can see what looks like pepper (pre-grinder) dotting the surface of his skin. It's metal...dozens and dozens of pieces of metal. Metal that doctors didn't remove for fear of nerve damage. Instead, the pieces start working their way to the skin's surface on their own. Some have come OUT since I've met David. It's unreal to see it.

Should you have had the honor to glimpse his lower-lip tattoo (on the inside!), you may have noticed that some of his teeth look different. That's because they're fake. The impact of the explosion blew out several of his teeth. He didn't lose them hitting the ground like other accident-prone young adults; air and metal blasted them out of his mouth. I just can't fathom it.

Of course, this is just some of the physical residue of a suicide bomber attack. The other side—just as dark and certainly just as unfair—is the the memory of that moment that David has to cope with every day of his life. I never did and never will know how to kiss that wound to make it all better. It breaks my heart.

Everyone has an opinion of this war we're waging in Iraq, and there are no right answers. I, in my endless optimism, hope for a quicker solution and a safe journey home for the troops over there fighting for our country.

I am proud, so proud, of my husband for nearly giving his life for our freedom. Even without his Purple Heart, he is a hero to me. He signed up for the Marines eagerly. He served four years and was part of the unit that was FIRST into Baghdad, securing bridges, roads and towns for the citizens of Iraq. He spent weeks fighting that war, and left that battle exactly one day after he was to be honorably discharged (his four years were up)... but instead of flying home to a hero's welcome, he flew on an enormous military plane to Landstuhl, Germany, to a hospital for American soldiers and marines. Sometimes life can be so unfairly ironic.

It doesn't matter... he is amazing. He is a pillar of strength to me and our little family. There isn't a better man for my son to look up to. I am honored to be David's wife.

On this day, I hope he knows how much he is appreciated, loved and respected. Thank you, Corporal, for everything you have done for this country and for this family. I love you.